Disclaimer – JKR and several other companies etc owns the characters that you recognise

0o0o0o0

Harry watched with slightly sorrowful eyes as Brightfeather stumbled through a landing and then limped slowly towards him. Despite his best efforts and Hagrid's best advice, they had been unable to heal all of the damage to the Hippogriff that Harry had met on his first field trip to Egypt. Once healed Brightfeather had indeed flown away a free Hippogriff, but he had kept track of Harry and stopped by the green eyed mans dig sites from time to time.

Sometimes he brought Harry meat, as if to repay the man for feeding him when he'd been unable to hunt for himself. Sometimes he grabbed the other by the back of the neck and threw him onto his back, taking him up into the air to show him something. Harry had thwarted a poaching ring, a smuggling ring, and a rather nasty Dark Rite that way. He and Brightfeather made a fantastic team in the air; Harry's innate understanding of flight making him the ideal passenger.

Thinking that Brightfeather was here about Greywings, Harry turned and summoned the feathers that the foal had left behind, moulting in reaction to the illness she'd suffered through under Harry's vigilant eye. His team thought it odd that Harry spent as much time as he did with the animals they encountered, but he knew that was Hagrid's influence on him. The half giant had a soft spot for just about every creature in the world, the more dangerous the better, and Harry had come to appreciate the beauty of several of those beasts. He still hated Blast Ended Skrewts though, and he wasn't too keen on Acromantula's either.

"Hello Brightfeather," Harry bowed solemnly, though not as deeply as usual. His baby belly was starting to get big enough to interfere with that sort of thing, and Harry found it a bit disconcerting to have to factor in his added girth to his daily activities and movements.

Brightfeather made a soft noise and bowed back regally, and when Harry straightened, the Hippogriff limped forward and gently nudged the rounded tummy that Harry's robes still hid. He smiled and put a hand to his belly, resting it beside the razor sharp beak that could disembowel him in an instant. He wasn't at all worried about the Hippogriff hurting him, though he thought that Francesca was hyperventilating behind him.

"It's a… well I suppose you'd call it a foal, though we call it a baby," Harry spoke as if the beast could understand him perfectly, another habit that he'd picked up from Hagrid. The half giant had always spoken to the creatures he taught them about as if they understood him.

Brightfeather nuzzled the bump and Harry smiled, reaching over to stroke the Hippogriff's crest in response, the gentle touch a reciprocation of the beasts'. Brightfeather stepped back and craned his neck around to a spot between his wings. When he brought his head back, something was dangling and squirming from his beak, though Harry could see he had it in a very careful grip. He put his hands out obediently and deftly caught the small thing, bringing it up to his chest where it latched on with a frightened sound.

"What is it Harry?" Francesca called from her safe distance, and Harry craned his own neck to get a clear look at the thing before it tucked itself under his armpit for safety. Brightfeather made an approving noise and blinked sedately at him before nudging his belly again and then his armpit. Harry blinked as he made the connections and then beamed.

"Thanks, Brightfeather, the baby will love it I'm sure," he said quietly and the Hippogriff nodded before limping back a step and turning carefully, trying not to bump Harry. Harry stepped back, out of its way and got an approving cry, before the Hippogriff lurched into its uneven canter and flapped powerful wings, taking off in a flurry of leaves and dust.

"Harry?" Francesca reminded him she was there by poking him in the arm, "What did it give you? And why did you let it so close to the bambina?"

"Brightfeather would never hurt me or mine," Harry said confidently, clasping his hands across his tummy. It was an oddly comfortable posture and it never failed to make his team smile or snicker.

"What did it give you?" Francesca evidently decided not to argue the point now, though Harry was likely to get an earful from Elaine and Armando about this. Harding and Trinket at least knew that he was completely competent when it came to judging the dangers presented by the magical creatures and beasts they encountered.

"It's a juvenile Emperor Tamarind monkey. They have sort of grey/black/ brown fur, and these beautiful big white moustaches," Harry lifted his arm to give her a glimpse of the shivering monkey that was clutching him, "I'd imagine that Brightfeather or a member of his flight has eaten the rest of its family. He must have detected that I was expecting a foal from when he picked up Greywings. I guess he thinks it will be good practice for me to care for it."

"He didn't take her feathers," Francesca realised, "But they're quite magical. You could make a fortune selling them to a wand maker or a potions master."

"Armando has his brewers licence, and it was his potion that helped Greywings to heal, so here, give them to him for me, would you?" Harry handed them over without second thought, and Francesca rolled her eyes at him. His team thought he had no respect for the power of money, but Harry knew full well that good will was more important at the end of the day.

"Well, good luck with it… what will you call it anyway?" Francesca turned with him and headed for the row of tents lined up behind the communal marquee.

"Madge," Harry murmured, wondering what the monkey ate and if he had anything in the tent that would tide it over until they got appropriate food for it.

"Oh it's a girl?" Francesca winced, no doubt at the name. Harry flashed her his best cheeky grin, pausing outside her tent and holding back the flap so she could enter without dropping her handfuls of feathers.

"No idea," he shrugged one shoulder, "It's short for Your Majesty."

Francesca groaned and then laughed, ducking inside her home.

0o0o0o0

"Hmm," Harry squinted at the map for a moment and then looked over at the notes he'd made on the last frieze, "You know, Trinket, I'm beginning to think that this particular symbol here has nothing to do with language at all."

"Vecchio disagrees," Trinket grunted and Harry sat back, winced as his back protested and altered his posture obediently. Four months into the pregnancy, his back had started to protest just about everything, as the baby belly that Harry was carrying around began to grow beyond easy concealment in his robes. The Goblin reached over and patted his arm without thought, turning his own attention to the symbol that Harry had been pointing at. Ever since he'd become pregnant the Goblin had been a lot more… gentle in his approach to his 'owner'. Madge stirred from her – she had proven to be a girl – place on Harry's shoulder and chattered for a moment.

"I know she does," Harry sighed, scratching the little monkey to settle her again, "But there is no reason that the word 'turtle' should be included in this tomb. There were no turtles in this part of the world when this guy was buried. I think its actually the shape of the next tomb."

"What makes you think that?" Trinket frowned, "If there were no turtles…"

"Anacosta was not from around here," Harry reminded the Goblin, "In fact he was one of the biggest travellers of his time, which is why his work has survived so well; there are so many records of him all over the world. He'd seen so many animals that less travelled people would have thought impossible…"

"This tomb is not shaped like a turtle," Trinket objected, "Anacosta liked to use familiar shapes and materials in his building."

"True," Harry shook his head, "I think we need to have another look at this from the air. You up for a short flight?"

"Are you?" Trinket gestured eloquently to the baby belly, and Harry grimaced. The thought of straddling a broom with a beach ball shoved down the front of his pants was not appealing.

"Good thing I've got a flying carpet," Harry hauled himself to his feet and rolled up the diagrams they'd been looking over. Ferdinand was in Lima for the next week, seeing to the security of the site for the next month and a half. The team was due to pull out from the site and return to Rome and the huge library concealed there at the end of the week, as Harry's due date got closer and closer. Elaine was also due not long after him, and Harding was visibly pleased that his wife wouldn't have to give birth in a tent. Francesca had announced her pregnancy a week after the Ritual, and Armando was both elated and concerned to discover that his wife was bearing quads. Harry suspected that the fertility part of the ritual had boosted Francesca's…

"A carpet?" Trinket sounded intrigued, "I've never flown on a carpet before."

"This is a nice little one," Harry paid attention to the Goblin with him instead of his musings, "Seats four, very sturdy. It makes an excellent platform for map work, and it holds up well under spell casting."

"Oh, you used it on Dupree's last site in Malaysia, when the tomb guardian turned out not to be as mythical a beast as everyone thought," Trinket realised, "Didn't it spew fire and poisonous gases?"

"Yup," Harry shuddered and ducked into his tent, heading for the cupboard where he kept the three flying carpets he owned and his broom. Madge leapt down and went to investigate her bowl of fruit and insects, kept freshly stocked by Dobby, "It killed half the team. Francesca was supposed to be there, but she'd been recalled home because of her sisters wedding, thank Circe."

"Dupree died on that one," Trinket sounded pleased, "We all knew he was too old to still be working. From what I heard you'd taken control of his last three digs, though you still gave him the credit."

"Don't speak ill of the dead," Harry said automatically, though it was true, "Dobby! Where are the carpets?"

"Master Harry called?" Dobby appeared, trying to look innocent and unaware, which meant that he and Winky had hidden them and his broom 'for his own safety'. There was a fair bit of that going on at the moment, and Harry did his best not to get too cross. After all, they wanted the best for him.

"Trinket and I need to take a quick look at the tomb from the air. I'm looking for the Scarab," Harry put his hands on his hips. He'd bought a larger twelve seater Persian carpet with a beautiful geometric design, and a mat so small that it would only seat one, and even then, you had to sit cross-legged. It had a dolphin on it, and was such an unusual mixture of blues and green that he hadn't been able to resist. The elves hated the flying carpets, because they'd been raised to see brooms as the proper form of flight, and anything else was likely to be unreliable. Harry wasn't in any shape to get on a broom though and he certainly didn't want to have to argue with Dobby in front of Trinket, because the elf was likely to punish himself.

"Dobby is getting it for you, Master Harry," Dobby promised with drooping ears and Harry made a mental note to reassure both his elves, again, that he was not interested in doing anything dangerous or stupid at this late stage of his pregnancy.

"Thank you Dobby," Harry smiled and turned to Trinket, "If you like it, you can have a loan. I don't fly them as often as I used to, and the spell work likes to be refreshed by flight now and then."

Trinket looked agreeable to this, and Dobby reappeared with the carpet floating behind him. Getting on was a bit tricky, but Harry managed and Trinket was fairly quivering with pleasure as they moved slowly to the correct height and took a slow turn around the camp before heading over the tomb. Elaine waved at them from the path as they went overhead, and Trinket called down in an excited manner entirely unlike his usual self.

It didn't take long to get the carpet in position and Harry sent down the spell that would illuminate the wards designed to protect the structure of their discovery. They flared up in a pale blue, which told Harry they were stable. He'd been concerned about letting his team wander through the tomb, as it was so very old and the magic that had been protecting it had been deactivated. He'd cast a few wards of his own, but there was no guarantee that they were perfect.

"Great googamooga," Trinket sounded disgusted, "It is an animal."

"Monkey?" Harry mused, "No, wrong body shape…"

"Kangaroo," Trinket snorted, "I guess Anacosta did curse that rock formation in Australia after all."

Harry tilted his head, and the shape came into focus for him.

"Looks like we've missed a branch off that corridor then," he pointed to the correct place and annotated the map that he'd brought up with them just in case. He also made a mental note to fly over all of Anacosta's sites once the wards were deactivated. It seemed that the sorcerer had concealed some things in the Muggle way as well.

"Looks like Vecchio is going to be annoyed too," Trinket rubbed his hands together and Harry swallowed a grin. The Goblin had been involved in a spectacular swearing contest with Francesca, which he had lost. It was hard to compete against someone who knew so many different languages. Armando had put a stop to it, telling his wife he didn't want his children to hear that sort of language.

"Trinket, would you like to steer?" Harry invited, packing away the map, and the Goblin with him grinned in reply. Harry made sure that he had a good grip on the carpet and let the Goblin assume control of the spells.

The cackling from his new pilot wasn't at all reassuring.

0o0o0o0

Extract from 'Harry Potter: The Man Behind the Legend. An Unofficial Biography'

The birth of his first child did little to change the way Harry Potter worked, though it is believed that his eldest son was initially a fussy sleeper. According to sources close to the family, the new father would read aloud to his son from the reference books and maps that he was working on as he tried to soothe the babe to sleep, which may explain why David Potter went on to become a librarian, with a depth of knowledge that rivalled that of many Oracles.

In addition to the on-going quest to locate and free the children trapped by Sorcerer Anacosta, it is believed that it was at this time that Harry Potter began to think about the working arrangements that later became known as the City of Tents. This became a veritable city of people working in support roles for the families of curse breakers that Harry Potter eventually came to employ. To this day, there is prestige in being known as a member of the founding family of the City of Tents, and the Guild that it came to support.

0o0o0o0

Harry dropped back against the pillows with an agonised cry, panting hard, the last of the pain tearing through him and bleeding away. Armando was muttering in Italian, but Harry was too exhausted to care. The little window beside his bed showed the sun coming up, turning the lead lined roofs a fiery copper colour, reminiscent of the exact shade of hair that …

There was a gasping sound and then a wavering cry, and then Francesca was there, tears streaming down her cheeks as she wiped the sweat from his face and patted him on the chest as he struggled to regain his breath.

"Oh Harry," she whispered, "Oh Harry."

Armando appeared with a small red blob wrapped in the soft blanket that Hagrid had brought with him for the birth. The half giant had wanted to stay, but he hadn't been able to deal with Harry's pain and Francesca had ushered the tearful man out of the door. Harry had half wished that he could have gone too, leaving behind the pain to deal with itself.

"Your son, Harry," Armando beamed, "A beautiful baby boy."

Harry let them put the baby on his chest and Francesca helped position the bottle that he would use to feed his son for the next few months. As the baby suckled avidly, Harry unwrapped him and counted his fingers and toes, stroking back the wisps of black hair.

"Hullo," he mumbled his voice a little hoarse, "I'm the bloke you've been kicking."

And then he burst into tears.

0o0o0o0

"Davy," Hagrid smiled, and Harry nodded, hanging over the arm of Hagrid's chair to watch his son sleep in Hagrid's hand. They were in the parlour of the large house that the entire team had rented, choosing to stay together instead of splitting up. After living so closely in the jungle for so many months, it seemed odd that they would be apart in civilisation.

"David Ronald Potter," Harry said it softly, "For…"

"Ah lad, it's a fine strong name," Hagrid approved, "David means beloved, yer know."

"Yeah," Harry smiled and twitched the folds of blanket around his son. His son, who he was responsible for, for the next seventeen years at least. His son, who would be joined by four other siblings in the next five years. It boggled the mind.

"It's not fair," Elaine complained with a smile from her chair by the window, "You got pregnant after me, and you still get delivered before me."

Harry laughed softly and came to stand next to his arithmancer, taking her hand in his.

"Believe me; I have all the more respect for you because of it. You go three months longer than I did, and you've already done it twice before," he bowed elaborately, pleased that he'd regained his waist, and then straightened, rubbing the back of his head where she'd slapped it lightly.

"And don't you forget it," Elaine nodded, "Still he's a beautiful little boy, Harry."

Harry wrinkled his nose, looking back at his son. The baby's skin was still red and wrinkly, and his head was a funny shape, although Armando promised that would pass. He looked rather ugly to Harry, but then again the green-eyed wizard had never placed much stock in looks. He loved Davy with all his heart, and that was all that mattered to Harry.

"If you say so," he shrugged, "New born babies don't look beautiful to me, but then again, I'm a bloke and we tend not to gush over them like you ladies do."

Elaine slapped at him again and rolled her eyes. Trinket came into the parlour, closing the door quietly behind him, and fortunately preventing any further physical abuse.

"Your new tent is here, Potter," Trinket gestured to the closed door, "Your elves are taking charge of it. What do you want done with the old one?"

"I was thinking I'd stick it in a cupboard somewhere, in case we ever need a spare. We can always transfigure some furnishings for it if needed," Harry shrugged, and Trinket snorted, giving him a rather significant look, "Ok, you guys could. I know, I know, I can break a curse that's over a thousand years old, yet I can't accurately transfigure a stick of wood into a dining table for twelve. Woe is me; I'm a disgrace to wizards everywhere I'm sure."

"As long as you're aware of it," Elaine shrugged and Trinket snorted again before walking on the balls of his feet to Hagrid's side and peering into the sleeping child's face.

"He looks like you Potter," that was a comment that could mean anything, and Harry grinned again. Trinket had insisted on presenting Davy with a small charm that would alert Harry if his son was in danger. Ferdinand had managed to locate a clock like the one that Mrs Weasley had, though this one had three faces on it, one on the front, two on the sides. Harry had put the team on one side, their children on the other side, and his baby on the front.

"I need to talk to you, Potter," Trinket sighed, "Can you leave your son?"

"Hagrid? Is it ok with you?" Harry had no doubts that Hagrid would be happy to sit with Davy for a while, but didn't want to take his friend for granted. Hagrid beamed at him and nodded, and Harry followed Trinket out into the hall and across to the study.

He sat behind the desk and watched Trinket fuss into the chair opposite. Winky popped in with a tea tray and a pointed look, and Harry poured for them both, obediently picking up one of the pastries and sinking his teeth into it. He'd come out of pregnancy slightly underweight, and his elves had been horrified to think that all of the meals they'd made for him hadn't done him any good as his body had passed a lot of it on to the baby. Armando didn't seem too concerned, and Harry wasn't either. He'd felt healthy all through the pregnancy, and had even managed to avoid the worst of the morning sickness, much to Elaine and Francesca's disgust.

Harry sipped at his tea and watched as Trinket fussed with his teacup and nibbled on the ginger biscotti that Hagrid had made yesterday. The ginger was very strong, and the biscotti were rock hard, so Harry and Trinket were the only ones that ate them beside Hagrid, though they ate them for different reasons.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Trinket?" Harry asked after a moment and Trinket sighed, putting the half-gnawed biscotti down on his saucer.

"My father has been in contact with me," he muttered, and swore under his breath for a moment. There was no love lost between Trinket and his estranged Clan, especially as they'd disowned him instead of fighting for him when he was 'cursed' for so many years. The fact that Trinket's Clan had not contacted Harry at the same time as their son was something of a deliberate insult, as Harry was not well liked for redeeming the son they'd thrown away. It pointed out that Trinket's Clan had made a serious error in judgement, something that wouldn't sit well with the Elder of that Clan, or Trinket's father.

"What does he want?" since Harry was Trinket's 'owner', anything that his Clan wanted the Goblin to do had to be approved by Harry first. It was an odd arrangement, and Harry wasn't comfortable with it. He and Trinket were working towards a good friendship though, and that helped ease the tensions. His team also accepted the Goblin and his sometimes-strange worldview, which made Trinket more secure.

"He wants me to marry," Trinket shrugged, the motion not quite disguising his unease, "He has arranged a marriage with a minor daughter of a silver smith."

"Minor daughter?" Harry asked, hoping that she wasn't underage or something.

"Insignificant," Trinket bared his teeth, "Old enough to marry but not of any great value to her Clan, except for the husband she could get them."

"And this will do what for your Clan?" Harry had a feeling there was more to the story and Trinket bared his teeth again, though this time it was in approval for his recognition of Goblin politics. Funny how Harry had learned to tell the difference.

"The marriage will seal a lasting trade agreement for the Clan," was the bald reply, and Harry sighed. He didn't believe that you should marry for any reason other than love, though he was well aware that this was not the case in many different cultures. He focussed on the Goblin opposite, absently noting the difference in appearance from when they'd first met. Trinket had been shabbily dressed, and a little stooped. Now his clothes were well tailored without being gaudy, and his bearing was as proud as any Goblins ever had been. They'd made a small fortune in their latest endeavour and this helped increase Trinket's standing among the rest of his Society, which was probably how his Clan had come to the decision to marry him off.

"Trinket," Harry put the teacup down, "It is entirely at your discretion if you marry this person. If you don't want to then I'll tell your Clan that it is not convenient to me that you marry at this time. Whatever it is you decide I'll back you."

Trinket sat back, a shocked look upon his face.

"You would allow me to choose? You would deceive the Elder of my Clan and my father at my request?" he spluttered, and Harry nodded, shrugging. People tended to forget how much he'd done in his life, especially his team who'd spent six months watching him struggle with an unexpected pregnancy.

"My loyalty is to my team, Trinket. I am in a rather unusual position of power when it comes to you, but at the end of the day all that matters is that my team have what they need, and are able to conduct their affairs without undue harassment. I will back your decision in this matter," Harry's voice was cold and firm. He could see that the Goblin in front of him had suddenly remembered that the man in front of him had commanded an army of his peers in a battle before reaching his majority. He also commanded a significant amount of personal magical power, which he had used to dispatch an ascendant Dark Lord without once using the Killing Curse.

"I… thank you Potter," Trinket got up and offered him a sweeping bow, "I will consider this matter seriously and let you know my decision. You honour me with your trust."

"I look forward to hearing your decision," Harry nodded and let Trinket leave before sealing the door with a privacy spell and letting his breath run out in a whoosh of air. He shook his head and refilled his teacup, judging that it would best if he calmed down before going back to his Davy.

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