Put Your Curse in Reverse

by frombluetored

Scorpius Malfoy knew his fifth year would be challenging- but he hadn't expected this. Between his impending O.W.L.s, his new relationship, Quidditch tryouts, the public eye, and the Slug Club, he can hardly catch his breath. Meanwhile, Harry Potter discovers that being a professor at Hogwarts is very different from being a student there. (Sequel, switches POVs)

7. Baby

Lily Potter
Year Three
Defence Against the Dark Arts

Counter-curses

I am most looking forward to learning about counter-curses. Almost everybody in my entire family has been cursed at one point or another. I would like to learn more about how counter-curses are created and who massively mucked up and failed to create them for some of the worst curses. It makes no sense! Why do jinxes that are harmless fun have counter-curses but curses that will actually murder you completely have none? Our book says that the Killing Curse does not have a counter-curse because there is no counter-curse for death. I say: let's fix that! What a terrible idea. Just because there has never been a counter-curse before does not mean somebody can't make one. I want to make one and I want to learn how. If somebody had been brave enough to do it, the world would be very different. For one, Lord Voldemort would probably be dead right now or at least very old with no friends and only one talent (talking to his pet snakes). I would have four grandparents instead of two. My dad, Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World, best dad and treacle tart maker, would not have his wicked scar, but he would probably still have plenty of other ones because he is always doing brave and reckless things. My mum would have six brothers instead of five. My almost-brother Teddy Lupin would have parents. Many of my classmates would still have family members, too.

In summary, I would like to learn how to do what all the past incompetent wizards failed to do. There is always a way and I think wizards gave up too soon. I think everybody just started to say 'a counter-curse is impossible', so everybody just stopped trying. If everybody (witches) tries really hard again, someone (a witch) will figure it out. And then nobody has to be murdered again. I also think Dark Magic should be taxed. It would help many of the problems that our Minister for Magic, Hermione Jean Granger, complains about over dinner.

---

"Should you be marking Lily's essay while you're furious with her?"

Harry looked up. He watched his wife cross over to him, her eyes exhausted, her arms crossed tightly.

"How'd you know it was Lily's from all the way over there?"

"She's got distinctive handwriting," Ginny answered. She sat down beside Harry on the uncomfortable sofa. She looked around the quiet reception area. "You ran away to the labor and delivery ward. Interesting choice. Probably says something, but I'm too tired to even try."

Harry shrugged. He bowed his head back over his daughter's essay.

"I don't have long," Ginny continued. "My mum is with Al. His arm finally stopped bleeding. I just sent James, Lily, and Scorpius back to Hogwarts. But I wanted to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine," he answered automatically. Ginny gave him a dry look. He tried again. "Okay. I'm…frustrated. Worried. Frightened," he admitted.

She examined his eyes and he examined hers. She nodded once. He smiled softly as she reached over, pried his quill from his hand, and laced their fingers together.

"She's not doing too well, is she?" Ginny asked lightly, and at first, Harry thought she meant Lily. He sighed.

"No, and frankly, Gin—"

She wasn't talking about Lily. She was staring at a terribly young woman sitting across from them, in the throes of a contraction, rocking back and forth in her chair while repeatedly telling both Merlin and Dumbledore to do something vulgar to themselves.

"She's got to be younger than eighteen. Where are her parents?"

"I don't know," Harry said. He waited a few more moments. Ginny was still watching the girl in concern. He had such an intense tangle of emotions bearing down on his heart that he wasn't sure where to start; he wasn't even sure he wanted to talk about it yet. And yet… "Is she all right?"

Ginny looked back to Harry. "I don't know, it looks like her baby's about ten minutes away from crowning, I don't understand why she's still out here…"

Harry furrowed his brow. "What? No. Not that girl. Our girl. Our daughter."

"Oh! Right, sorry," Ginny said, giving her head a shake. She shifted in the seat to face Harry. Her knees brushed his. "She's fine. And do you know what else?"

"What?" he sighed.

"I'm really proud of you. I came here to tell you that I'm really proud of you."

She squeezed his fingers affectionately. He didn't feel like she had any reason to be proud of him, but his heart automatically lightened at those words. When she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth, he felt a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Why?" he finally demanded. "I screamed at our daughter and nearly reduced her to tears—again."

The heaviness was back on his heart. He realized it was guilt and shame.

"Because you recognized that you were getting too angry and instead of remaining there, at the risk of saying something you didn't mean, you walked away. I've been trying to teach myself how to do that for ages."

Harry almost didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't keep anything from her.

"I only left because I was about to cry."

"Because you were getting upset. My point still stands."

Harry studied her tired eyes. He looked around them, and when he felt certain nobody would overhear, he lowered his voice and continued. "I feel like I'm losing her. Lily. I feel like…our relationship is breaking apart, and I don't know what to do. I feel like the harder I try to keep her safe and keep her close, the riskier and more withdrawn she gets. And the thought of her…the idea that she could end up…"

His eyes burned so intensely that he had to squeeze them shut. His throat seared. His little Lulu—not so little anymore. When had that happened? His little Lulu, who didn't want to be his little Lulu anymore. Harry didn't know what to do with that. There were few things in life as jarring as the experience of raising a daughter. To him, it felt like it was only yesterday that she'd been sitting atop his shoulders, proclaiming to anybody who would listen that her daddy was her best friend. Now, she kept things from him—frightening things. Dangerous things. She wouldn't let him protect her. She sought out the things that she needed to be protected from. And Harry couldn't understand it. It felt like the shift had happened overnight. He felt like she had changed at a speed he couldn't touch. She no longer identified as Little Lulu, but Harry still saw her that way. Harry still loved her that same way—he loved her like shoulder rides, butterfly kisses, giggling Sundays, 'you're my best daddy' 'you're my best little girl'. When he looked at her—fierce, clever, proud, arrogant at her worst and larger than life at her best—he saw the same things he'd seen the first time he'd held her: goodness and hope. So how was he meant to cope with the thought that he could one day be without her, despite how desperately he tried to keep her safe?

Ginny saw the tears building before Harry could do much to blink them back. He bent forward, sinking into her embrace as she pulled him into it. He hid his face away in her hair and breathed. Nothing could calm him quite as well as her flowery scent, so he remained in place and repeated the cycle until he felt less liable to publically break down in tears.

"I know. I know, Harry. It terrifies me, too. And that's why I'm really glad that you yelled at her, because you're right: she's got to learn this lesson. It doesn't have as much of an impact when I do it; she used to me yelling. She listens when you scold."

"Not well enough, obviously. Where did we go wrong, Gin? Why can't she just…be a normal, safe thirteen-year-old girl? She shouldn't be smuggling dragons or pulling dormitory heists. She should be…I dunno…practicing Quidditch and playing Chess or—whatever normal kids do. All I ever wanted for our children was the luxury of a normal life—something we never had. The blessing of being normal children! And our kids are…not normal."

It was a mildly hilarious understatement, but Harry still felt too ill to laugh. Ginny leaned back and looked at him.

"No, they're certainly not," Ginny agreed. And then, without any additional words, she reached up and lightly whacked Harry's head.

"Oi!" he complained automatically.

"That's for saying you wish our kids were normal—how boring, don't wish that on me. They'd be miserable; we'd be miserable; three normal kids and two mad parents? We'd have nothing in common. Face it, Harry. They never had a chance at being normal anyway with our genes."

"But if they were normal, they wouldn't keep getting themselves into these dangerous situations."

"If they were normal, they wouldn't be James, Albus, and Lily. That's just it, Harry. Lily is Lily. Lily is exactly what she is and that's all she'll ever be. We can't change that—I wouldn't want to. And I know you wouldn't want to, either. It isn't our job to change who she is. It's our job to teach her better ways to deal with her frustration and her drive. And we're going to fail her if we keep insisting that she just 'be normal' because that's never going to happen. I knew that from the first time she kicked, honestly."

"So what do we do?" Harry said miserably. Frustration was overtaking his guilt. "How do we keep her from getting hurt? Because that's all I want. I just want her to be safe."

"Me too. That's all I want for all of them," Ginny agreed. Her eyes shifted back to the woman across from them. When Harry followed her gaze, he saw the pregnant teenager was now digging her nails into the arm of the chair, hard enough to leave marks. Ginny continued. "I don't know what the answer is. We've got this same problem with all three. How do we find the balance between protection and trust? How do we give them space but also keep them from being harmed? I don't know, Harry."

He didn't know, either. Just when he thought he'd finally gotten the hang of the parenting thing, something new happened that made him feel sick with worry and generously incompetent.

"This is difficult," he found himself saying. His voice was nearing a whine. "Being a dad is so difficult."

"Yeah, so is being a mum," Ginny agreed.

The pregnant girl gave a sudden, loud, and devastating whimper as if she too agreed. Harry instinctively flinched, his mind flying back decades to the times it'd been Ginny in that much pain. Ginny shook her head, her eyes on the girl as well.

"This poor girl…where is her mother?" she hissed.

"She's been alone the entire time I've been here," Harry shared.

Ginny looked horrified, and without another word, she stood. Harry watched with intermingled disbelief and faint affection as she promptly crossed over and sat beside the girl, her hand landing lightly over her spine. "You've got to breathe with the contractions, not against them—let me show you."

While Ginny coached the stranger through contractions, Harry tried to return to marking Lily's essay, but he wasn't getting very far. He kept thinking about Ginny's words. You've got to breathe with them, not against them. And he certainly wasn't a young girl about to birth a tiny human being. But the words held meaning for him, anyway. Was that the answer? Instead of finding a balance between over-protection and negligence, were they supposed to…work with their kids, instead of against them? Work with their secretive schemes and plans, instead of trying to stop them entirely?

Harry's musings were interrupted by a loud sob from the pregnant girl. He looked over to her. She was now sobbing directly into Ginny's breasts, all semblance of personal space forgotten in the throes of her pain and anxiety. Ginny patted the girl's hair, a bit taken aback.

"It's all right, Mara," Ginny said.

The girl cried even harder. "What if it dies?!"

The words were muffled into Ginny's top, but they were shrieked so loudly that Harry made out every word with no issue. Ginny looked alarmed.

"Oh, it won't! Don't say that! Don't even think like that. You're going to give birth, the baby will be fine, you'll be fine. You'll read a book, take a bath, take a breath, and before you know it, your baby will be jumping from broomsticks midair, starting student organizations, kissing boys, smuggling dragons, going back in time...you name it, your baby will do it…you won't believe some of the things it'll do…bit maddening, really…"

The girl lifted her face. She hiccupped so hard that her hair slipped from its messy ponytail.

"But my baby's a boy," she finally said.

"Yeah, I can tell from the way you're carrying," Ginny said, with a comforting pat to the girl's back. Harry wasn't following the conversation as well as Ginny was; he wasn't sure why the girl was arguing about her baby's sex. Ginny seemed to understand, though. "My baby that grew up to kiss boys was a boy, too."

Harry snorted. The girl was not comforted by Ginny's words.

"Oh, I c-c-can't do it! I don't know how to be a mum!"

A bit late to consider that now, Harry thought. He made a quick correction to Lily's essay.

"Neither do I, and I've been one for seventeen years. I managed all right. All three of mine are healthy, happy, and well-adjusted. Well, okay…two out of three are healthy…one nearly died...but he's almost recovered! And…I'm positive that at least one is genuinely happy. And…you know, all three are…moderately well-adjusted…some more than others…"

The girl gave a loud wail. Ginny winced.

"Look, the only thing you've got to know how to do is love your child, and judging by how worried you are for your baby, I think you've already managed that. Just love them and you can get through everything else, I promise." The girl's cries broke off as another contraction overtook her. Ginny continued patting her back. "Is there somebody I can Floo? Somebody who can be here with you?"

Because he was her husband, Harry was able to easily read the subtext to that. Is there somebody to take care of you so I can go take care of my baby? She was beginning to look anxious and antsy, the way she'd been getting anytime Albus was 'alone' for more than five minutes (because, in her mind, being with anybody but her made Albus 'alone'—Harry was working on that).

"My m-m-mum is here," the girl responded.

Both Harry and Ginny turned and glanced around the room. Just like Harry had thought, there was nobody else.

"Er…yeah? She is?" Ginny asked. She looked over and met Harry's eyes, hers widened. He grimaced. The girl was clearly delusional.

"Y-yes, only, she's giving birth right now! I c-couldn't stay back with her, I got too scared," the girl continued.

What the hell? Harry was still trying to wrap his head around the logistics of that while Ginny replied.

"Oh. Oh, I see. Er. Both having babies at the same time…exciting? Er—"

Ginny was interrupted by the opening of the double doors behind them. A Healer stepped out.

"Mara? Your mum is done and ready to see you."

Mara jumped up immediately.

"Thanks," she told Ginny. She crossed towards the door. And then she stopped. She stood still for a moment and then turned around, an incredulous expression on her face. "Wait. Are you…" her eyes scanned the room, landing at once on Harry. They swelled to three times their previous size. "You are! And there's Harry Potter! Have you been here this whole time?!"

"Oh, look at the time, Harry," Ginny said quickly. Harry was already scrambling for his items and cramming them back into his bag. Mara was still staring blankly, and she probably would've continued to, if another contraction hadn't overcome her. Ginny walked over and helped Harry finish gathering his things, they waved, wished Mara luck, and then they ducked quickly into the safety of the lift before word got around that they were in this reception area. They'd managed to stay relatively unbothered by leaving places quickly—before too many people noticed they were there—and Harry wanted it to remain that way.

As soon as the lift doors shut, Ginny turned to Harry.

"I'm really concerned about that girl," she said.

"I'm concerned about the parents. Two newborns in the family at once? No, thanks anyway."

"Ugh, that reminds me: yesterday James said he and Nora decided they want eight children."

"Eight," Harry deadpanned. He truly couldn't imagine. He was overwhelmed with three. "He's either joking or mad."

But at the same time, he was thinking about those days—the early days of parenthood. That wondrous rush of perfect joy at the sight of a new baby. As traumatizing as the newborn experience could be at times, there were few things quite as special. He reached out and wrapped his arm around Ginny's waist; she leaned against his side.

"That girl—did you hear what she said when I was reassuring her that her baby would be okay? After all the things I said her baby could grow up to do, it was kissing boys she was the most concerned about. Not a good sign. The prospect of your child smuggling a dragon or going back in time should probably always alarm you more than the prospect of them kissing a boy."

"She was panicking and in pain."

"Eh, I'd argue that makes you even more honest. And that baby's head is huge and her hips are narrow…I should send her flowers and a cheese hamper…maybe that parenting book Hermione gave us that we never read…maybe some of Al's morphine…"

Harry laughed. He gently poked her side. "Are you the baby expert now? You can see the sex and the size of the head without any imaging spells?"

"Yes I am, precisely. She's carrying low—it's a boy. She was so far along that you could make out bits of the baby through her skin—it had a massive head."

"Well, your skills are going to come in handy when Nora has eight babies."

"Oh, Merlin…" Ginny muttered, a haunted look in place. It remained for the rest of the walk.

---

Albus was not in his bed when they walked in. Molly looked up from her place at his side.

"He insisted on walking," she told them, an edge of annoyance in her tone. "I tried to talk him out of it, but that proved to be more difficult than I'd anticipated."

Their son was leaning heavily into Molly's side, pale-faced and panting. It was clear that he wasn't so much walking as being dragged. But his jaw was set in familiar determination, and after a few moments of catching his breath, he unsteadily straightened up to stand on his own. Harry's stomach churned as his legs began visibly trembling. Ginny flinched at Harry's side and took a half-step forward automatically. Molly barely managed to catch Albus underneath the arms as his legs buckled beneath him. Harry hurried over as Molly stumbled. He reached for Albus's waist to pull him upright, but Albus shrugged from his grasp.

"I can do it!" he argued.

"Al, your circulation, you can't—" Ginny tried to say, but Albus interrupted her.

"No, Mum! I can do it, okay?! I'm not a baby!" A pause. "And it's not my circulation that's the problem. The Healers are wrong. Which means I can work through this."

"How do you know it's not?" Harry asked, but the obvious answer occurred to him quickly afterwards once he remembered what had caused Albus's latest arm injury. Oh. He may be right, then…

"Sorry, but yes, you are a baby; you're my baby," Ginny said. Albus managed a half-hearted eye-roll. "And I won't have you injuring yourself on some stubborn whim."

"I am not a baby."

"Yes, you are. You're my baby. I've got scars to show for it. I can do this all day, Al."

Albus swayed weakly. Harry and Molly almost took an automatic step forward but forced themselves not to intervene. Albus ground his teeth and took one shaky step forward. And then he collapsed completely, his legs folding uselessly beneath him, sending him falling hard onto the tiled floor.

"Damn it!" he cried, frustrated and nearing tears. Harry edged forward, but once again forced himself to stop short of his son. Albus pressed his palms to the tile and tried to push himself up, but his entire body was trembling now. Whether from weakness, over-exertion, or embarrassment, Harry wasn't sure. But he couldn't bear to see Albus that way.

Albus tried a few more times to stand but gave up a moment later. He leaned forward.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked tearfully.

"Nothing," Molly said instantly. Ginny was already at Albus's side. She kneeled down and sat beside him on the floor, her arms wrapping around him. Harry had to look away and clear his throat as Albus sank into her embrace, because he immediately began crying, and the sight made Harry want to cry, too.

"You can't expect yourself to be better overnight," Ginny was whispering. "Think of what you're recovering from."

"I need to be better!" Albus sobbed. "I want to be better now! I'm tired of it! I want to be at Hogwarts!"

It was something Harry never thought he'd hear his son say. He couldn't even appreciate it, given the circumstances.

"You will get better, but you've got to give it time. Are you hurting again? Is that was this is about?" Ginny asked.

Ordinarily, Albus would've lied, so when he nodded against his mum's shoulder, Harry knew he was in extreme pain. Ginny looked back at Harry and met his eyes. He immediately moved forward and leaned over; they both helped hoist Albus back to his feet. He was still sniffling as he reclined on his bed. Ginny and Molly sat on either side of him.

"Just a little longer and you can have more medicine," Ginny murmured, her hand brushing comfortingly through Albus's untidy hair. Molly was fussing with his tangled IV lines, mumbling about messy muggle medicine. It occurred to Harry—with a rush of gratitude—that Albus had at least been spared some of the pain that Harry had been through in his childhood; the sight of his son sandwiched between two Weasley mums made Harry feel reassured and comforted on Albus's behalf. At least his son would never know what it felt like to be suffering in a hospital bed without a mum present, and the pain of that could sometimes be worse than the physical.

Albus's eyes landed on Harry. Harry met his gaze.

"Dad," he said. Harry waited, but Albus didn't say anything else. He approached and sat at the end of Albus's bed. His hand fell to rest over his son's calf.

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

Molly immediately crushed Albus to her bosom in a tight, suffocating hug.

"Oh, Al!" she cried tearfully. "You're going to be okay. I promise!"

Albus hugged his gran back, but he looked a bit winded from the pressure of her hug.

"Mum. Too much love," Ginny hissed.

"No such thing," Molly snapped back. But she loosened her arms a bit.

"What are you scared of, Albus?" Harry asked, concerned. "About not getting better? About the man that died?"

"No. About Scorpius and James and Lily."

Oh. Of course. As soon as Albus said it, Harry realized he ought to have realized that already.

"I hate being here when they're there," Albus continued. He hid his face into Molly's shoulder. "Especially Scorpius."

"I don't think anybody will hurt Scorpius," Ginny said gently. "He is a Malfoy. I don't think his association with you entirely overwrites that."

"They wouldn't care about that," Albus immediately said, voicing what Harry had been thinking. "They'd see Draco Malfoy as the ultimate traitor. Scorpius even more. He's not supposed to be there without me. At Hogwarts."

Harry could feel Ginny's eyes on him, and when he glanced at her, she was imploring him silently to do something. But what? What did she want him to do? He couldn't exactly follow Scorpius around all day and all night. Harry stared right back, frustrated and baffled. After at least a minute of their intense eye contact, Molly cleared her throat.

"Something you two want to talk about?" she asked.

Ginny didn't lower her gaze. "Harry, Albus is worried that somebody will hurt Scorpius at Hogwarts. His boyfriend. Albus is somewhere other than Hogwarts, and he's worried that somebody at Hogwarts will hurt Scorpius, at Hogwarts."

Was she having a stroke? She was looking at him like he was being purposefully daft.

"Blimey, if only you knew what that felt like!" she continued sarcastically.

His mind immediately flew to the year he'd spent looking for the Horcruxes, when Ginny had been stuck at Hogwarts. Oh. Oh.

"Oh," he said.

"Yes. Oh," Ginny repeated.

Albus and Molly were lost. Harry smiled.

"Right," he said. He stepped down from Albus's bed. He crossed over to his bag and began withdrawing items—books, essays, ink, quills, sherbet lemons, sugar quills, his wife's lipstick (what was that doing in there?), an old Prophet—

"Ah ha," he said. He grabbed the worn parchment and walked over. He lifted Ginny's ankles, so he could sit beneath her legs, so he'd be closer to Albus. He dropped her legs back down onto his lap and produced the map. "Here you go, Al."

Albus didn't take it. He stared.

"The Marauder's Map."

"Right. I was going to give it to you anyway once you were back at Hogwarts, but you've got better use for it now, I think. Here you go. Do it. Go for it." He waited. As the silence stretched on, his smile lessened. "Er…do you remember how to—"

"I haven't got my wand," Albus told Harry. He still looked a bit stunned. "I don't even know where it is."

Harry hesitated. "We didn't think to look for it soon enough, with you being so injured and all…it got kicked down the corridor and stepped on."

Albus sighed. "I've broken another wand?"

"I'm afraid so. But Ollivander's son says he feels confident that he's got a grasp on what wands work best for you at this point; he's going to come by at some point with a few for you to try."

"I really liked that wand," Albus frowned. Harry could somehow still remember the sting he'd felt when his own wand had been temporarily broken during the Horcrux hunt, so he sympathized with his son.

"Sorry, Al," Harry said gently.

"Here," Ginny passed Albus her own wand and nodded towards the map. Albus pointed the Yew wand at the parchment, murmured 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good', and watched with his parents and grandmother as ink bloomed across the parchment.

Molly had seen the map only one time prior. She examined it this time with the same look she'd used then: intrigued distrust. Molly and Arthur Weasley had never quite moved past their fear of things that 'think without a brain' and the map was no exception; Harry's father being one of the creators only slightly softened their opinion on it.

"Oh," Ginny said happily. She pointed, smiling. "There's Jamie! And—oh, for the love of Dumbledore—"

"Ooh," Albus said gleefully, his eyes dancing with amused malice. "That certainly looks like James and Nora in the boys' dormitory. It certainly looks like they're on the same bed…wonder what—"

"Albus!" Molly scolded. Albus fell silent, but he and Harry exchanged amused looks, their lips pursed against the urge to laugh.

"Well," Ginny finally said, only the slightest twinge of disgust in her voice, "at least we know he's safe."

"They really should update the rules in Gryffindor Tower…why Godric Gryffindor ever thought only banning boys from going into dorms of the opposite sex was effective I'll never understand…honestly, boys that age are far too nervous to initiate things anyway; the girls are the gutsy ones…" Harry mused. He tried not to, but his path of sight crossed with Ginny's. They looked away from each other and tried not to laugh. They failed. Molly scowled.

"I'll thank you two for not saying anything about why you're laughing; I've heard way more than I ever wanted to know about my daughter's Hogwarts years as is."

"Ugh," Albus muttered.

Harry shrugged. He certainly didn't think the memories were gross. Ginny winked at him.

"I don't get it," Albus said, drawing their attention back to him and the map. Harry glanced back at the hundreds and hundreds of moving dots. "It's nice. The map. But it doesn't change the situation."

"It does, though," Harry said. When Albus failed to look reassured, Harry realized he'd have to explain a bit more. "You can…you know. Watch. Keep an eye out. When I was…when your mum was…" his cheeks were already burning. "Er. You know, when we were apart—and things were so awful at Hogwarts—I used to…watch. Her dot, you know. To make sure she was okay." Albus continued staring at Harry. He was feeling frustrated and a bit embarrassed. "It helped. To watch her walking about, living her life. To know that she was all right, that she was okay, that she might even be thinking of me—"

Ginny teasingly mimed vomiting. Harry struggled to keep his face impassive.

"Why I did that…sometimes I wonder…" he deadpanned. Ginny elbowed him in the ribs and grinned. He beamed back. It was all too much for Molly Weasley. She was teary-eyed as she seized Harry in a sudden and somewhat aggressive hug.

"The sweetest boy, the kindest man, I always knew, Harry, I knew what a brilliant boy you were, so sweet to my daughter, so good…"

"Yeah, yeah, all right, Mum," Ginny said. "Don't praise him too much. He still conveniently "forgets" to put his clean clothes away and he – " Molly leaned back and leveled the angriest look that Harry had ever seen Ginny's way. Ginny's words crumbled. "…it's a joke, Mum. I'm just joking. It's—it's our Potter thing, we banter…Harry knows…he's not offended…he knows he's a great husband…his quiches are to die for…" Molly didn't let up. Ginny hesitated. "And…and he always smells good. And, you know, I love him."

Harry was glad James wasn't there, though he heard the words his eldest child would've inevitably said regardless. "Ha, ha, Mum, you love Dad, you want to marry him again, you want to have his babies, you want to make him another singing valentine! You're in love!". The room almost felt empty without James's ridiculous taunts and Ginny's inevitable responding laughter. There was an audible pause in the conversation as if everybody in the room were waiting for it anyway.

"Yeah," Harry hurriedly said, breaking the silence. "I don't mind at all, Molly." Molly still didn't look convinced. "Er…she worships me and I know it?"

"Ew," Albus repeated, his head still bowed. When he continued, his voice sounded a bit distressed. "Dad, I don't see Scorpius anywhere on here. Will you help me?"

"Of course, Al, we all can," Harry said quickly, hoping to break the potentially budding argument between Ginny and Molly. Ginny hurriedly leaned over to peer at the map. Harry batted at her hair so he could see, too. He looked automatically to the Slytherin dorms first, but the only names he saw in the fifth year boys' dorm were Saul Montague, Sigmund Stone, Omri Bigelow, and Malcolm Bletchley. He moved his eyes to the library next. Two of Lily's friends (Evandrus Davies and Quinton Bell)...a few of Harry's second year students were grouped together…Louis and Clementine Clearwater…Evvie Wilson and James's friend Ben…Vann Fredericks…Madam Pince and Peeves, she was most likely running him off…

"I can't find him either," Ginny said.

"Don't worry," Harry reassured Albus. "I'm sure James just has him sleeping in the Room of Requirement again…it doesn't show up on the map….what are Lily, Aster, and Emi Crescent doing roaming the halls at this hour? Look at that!"

Harry pointed incredulously at the tightly grouped dots. Lily Potter, Aster Boot, and Emi Crescent were creeping down towards the Entrance Hall.

"They're going to get caught, look," Albus said suddenly. He pressed his finger to another dot—McGonagall. The four of them waited nervously as the dots drew closer and closer.

"They're not turning back. They're going to approach her head on!" Molly said, aghast.

Harry recognized the scene easily. "She's stolen the Invisibility Cloak. I'm sure of it."

Sure enough, McGonagall's dot passed right by the three delinquents. She kept walking, her pace not slowing.

"What are they doing?" Ginny breathed.

With an intensity not unlike the way Muggles watched films on their televisions, they sat in silence and watched Lily, Aster, and Emi weave through corridors.

"They're going to the staffroom," Harry finally realized.

"Did you tell her the password?" Ginny asked.

"Of course not. But that doesn't mean she didn't figure it out some other way..."

"The gargoyles won't let her in, surely…" Molly muttered.

But they did just that. Lily, Emi, and Aster went into the staffroom. Harry and his family watched the three roam around for nearly fifteen minutes before concluding that they were most likely just snooping.

"And I'll bet she's stealing sweets," Harry added. "Oh, if she takes Slughorn's pineapple he's going to blame the Divination professor and that will not be good." He made a mental note to avoid the staffroom tomorrow.

Molly waited until Albus's next round of medicine was set up (fussing with his hair the entire while, much to Albus's annoyance) and then she kissed them all and made her way back to the Burrow. Albus shifted from pain to exhaustion as the medicine took effect. He would've denied it until his last breath if Harry ever mentioned it again, but he was quite content to cuddle up to his mum and allow her to stroke his hair as he slipped off to sleep.

"You love this," Harry realized later. They were crammed together in the adjoining toilet, brushing their teeth side by side at the tiny sink. Ginny scrunched up her face in confusion, spat out a mouthful of toothpaste, and then looked at him as she ran her toothbrush under the flowing faucet.

"Sorry, what? Love what, exactly? Brushing my teeth? Standing so close to you that our pelvises are going to fuse into one giant pelvis? Sleeping in St. Mungo's?"

"You love being able to coddle Al."

She rinsed her mouth out, set her toothbrush down, and then turned, so the front of her body was pressed against the side of his and they were no longer standing side-by-side. She wrapped her arms around his waist. It was much more comfortable that way, without their hipbones digging painfully into each other. It was certainly not a toilet made for two. Harry let his free arm rest along her shoulders as he finished brushing his own teeth.

"Do I love the fact that Albus is in enough pain to feel the need to be coddled? No. Not in the slightest. I feel sick over it all day, every day. But do I love being able to baby him like he's three years old again? Do I love the fact that he's asking for comfort instead of suffering alone? Wholeheartedly. I only wish he'd never grown out of it in the first place."

"Funny..." Harry said. He set his toothbrush down and turned around to face Ginny, both his arms lowering to wrap around her waist. "I seem to remember a certain young mother bombarding me at the door one winter's day, two boys on her heels, insisting that if she didn't get a moment's solitude she would…what was it again? 'Tear her hair out strand by strand'?"

Ginny scowled. "If you're referring to the Year of the Clingy Sons, when both James and Albus wouldn't even let me go to the loo alone, you'll remember that I was quite justified in having that reaction."

He slid one palm up her back to reach her hair. He played with the ends, a smirk cropping up before he could stop it.

"I believe you said…'I can't wait until they're old enough to be able to do things on their own!'."

"And, again, Harry: that was the year that I became a toddler god. James had to have my input on everything…do you remember that? What shade of red to use on his drawing, whether or not he should jump up the stairs or run up them, how many bites of carrot he should eat before one bite of chicken…all day long was a running interrogation. And Albus—"

"Would wander around the house calling 'Mama? Mama? Where go?' the second you disappeared from sight. I remember."

"He did it to you, too! Actually, I still stand by my theory that it started because of you! Remember, you used to come home for lunch, cuddle with Al until he fell asleep for his nap, and then you'd leave while he was still sleeping to go back to work, so the first thing Al always did upon waking was search the house for you. You gave him a complex. Oh, and don't ever forget the Shower Calamity that same year."

Harry laughed loudly. "Oh, Merlin, how could I forget that? Why don't we ever tell that story at parties?"

Ginny snickered. "We really ought to."

"Wasn't funny at the time, though," Harry reminded her. He lifted his hand up and touched over his forehead. "I really thought I'd have another scar."

"Then you had no faith in my healing abilities! I patched you up all right."

Harry lowered his hand. He grinned. "Yeah, you must've. No scar."

She rolled forward onto her tiptoes and rose up. She kissed his forehead, somehow remembering the exact spot he'd split his head open almost fifteen years prior. "No scar."

"Still," Harry said, "I'm really glad they're not toddlers anymore because it's great to not have to worry about sneak attacks in the shower. Even when I didn't fall and split my head open, it was always disconcerting to have those two suddenly run into the shower, usually still half-dressed and shrieking. And then there was the time they brought the cat…"

"Aw, they just wanted to spend time with you," Ginny said. "To them, it made perfect sense: Dad was in there, so they should obviously be in there, too. It was adorable, honestly."

Harry smiled, overcome with a sudden surge of affectionate nostalgia. "We had some pretty adorable kids, didn't we?"

"Oh, the cutest. Without a doubt. I think they're still pretty cute."

"Better not let Lily hear you calling her cute," Harry snorted. "She'll riot."

"She is cute, whether she likes it or not," Ginny said stubbornly. She leaned into Harry's chest and yawned. "C'mon, I'm tired. Let's get out of this tiny room and go toss and turn for five hours before Al's medicine wears off again."

"Oh, well, that just sounds lovely. Really restful."

They changed into the pajamas Molly brought, Harry set his glasses on Albus's bedside table, and then they snuggled down beneath the blankets on their narrow camp bed. Harry exhaled deeply, feeling comfortable for the first time that day, his cheek pressed against the top of Ginny's head and their limbs intertwined.

"I was wrong when I was younger," Ginny whispered. Her voice was so tired that her words sounded mushed together. "I've changed my mind and I wish we could go back to the Year of the Clingy Sons. We could protect them that way. We could keep them from getting hurt. Albus wouldn't be in this hospital…James wouldn't have been tortured…they'd be happy and okay…that's all I want…"

"I know. I wish for that sometimes, too," Harry whispered back.

"How can we keep them safe?" she asked. It was meant to be rhetorical, but Harry couldn't help but reply.

"I think…we've got to breathe with them."

"Er…what? Sorry? Is this something else Dumbledore said because I've said it before and I'll say it again: he might not be the best person to take parenting advice from?"

"No. I mean…I just…y'know…we've been trying to stop their schemes…trying to prevent trouble….what if we didn't?"

"Meaning…?"

"What if we got involved. Stepped right into everything. Helped with whatever they're trying to do. Made ourselves…allies, instead of opponents? Then they wouldn't feel the need to hide things…they wouldn't feel the need to lie…they'd come to us immediately for help…we could keep them safe…" Harry yawned into Ginny's hair. He was slipping off just as quickly as she was. She snuggled closer and sighed; a sign she would be asleep at any moment.

"We could go to Hogwarts…" she mumbled.

To his sleep-soaked mind, it made perfect sense. He smiled lazily.

"Yeah. Hogwarts. We could move to Hogwarts."

"Okay…it's a date…"

"I'll be there…"

He felt like he'd only just fallen asleep when the sound of Albus's whimpering woke him. He rolled over and squinted into the darkness; he could make out the shape of Albus, doubled over at the waist, his breaths leaving him in harsh, pained bursts. Ginny had slept through it for the first time since they'd arrived at St. Mungo's—probably due to the intensity of her sleep deficit at this point—and Harry was reluctant to wake her. He carefully pushed the blankets back, extracted his limbs from Ginny's, and stumbled his way towards the bedside table.

"Al, what's wrong?" Harry whispered. He groped the surface of the table for his glasses. He crammed them onto his face as soon as he located them. Albus came into focus. He looked as bad as Harry had previously thought. Harry climbed up onto the bed and immediately reached for his son. Perhaps it was because he'd fallen asleep thinking about the toddler years. Perhaps it was because he couldn't bear to see his son in this much pain without reverting to the cuddling father he'd been when his children were tiny. Or perhaps it was because he was too tired to warn himself that Albus might not want his affection. Whatever the reason, he found himself enveloping Albus into his arms and pulling him close. Harry was prepared for Albus to push him away and ask for Ginny instead; he expected and accepted it. But Albus didn't.

"Dad," he sobbed, his arms wrapping around Harry, too. He leaned fully into Harry, with complete and utter trust, his body shaking with sobs. "Dad, it hurts so much."

And Harry felt that pain take root inside of him, too. He held his son even tighter and struggled to speak despite his narrowing throat.

"I'm so sorry, Al. I'm so sorry," he whispered. He went to pull back, so he could check the chart Ginny had made to see if the night shift Healers were late with Albus's medicine, but Albus refused to lessen his hold.

"Don't go," he said. "Dad, don't leave. I'm scared. I don't want to die again. Don't leave."

Had he ever heard words that hurt more? He couldn't recall. His chest was gaping now like somebody had carved out a massive chunk of his heart.

"You won't die again, Al," Harry managed to say.

"It feels like it," Albus gasped. He was crying so hard that he could hardly catch his breath. "I'm scared, Dad."

He was terrified, because Albus was showing him complete vulnerability, and he was convinced that he would let Albus down. What was there to say back to that? How could he convince Albus that he wasn't dying when he clearly felt like he was? He couldn't. No matter what he said, he'd never get through to Albus while he was in this much pain. All he could do was what he was doing. He could wait out the pain with him.

He relaxed back against the pillows, bringing Albus with him. He stared up at the dark ceiling as Albus sobbed into his chest, his son's hands clenched into tight fists, his breathing labored. Harry kissed Albus's hair. He hadn't done that in years.

"I won't leave," he said. Somewhere in his frantic, worn-down mind, he remembered little Albus waking from every nap to search the entire house for Harry. "I won't leave you alone. Wherever you go, I go, too."

---

He was burning up when he woke. He groaned, kicked weakly to knock the blankets off him, and rolled over.

"Morning," he heard Ginny say.

Harry yawned, stretched, and then rolled over onto his side. He stared at Ginny. She was dressed for the day with two mugs in hand. She was beaming. Harry looked around, hoping to see Albus in better spirits, but his heart sank.

He sat straight up. His head spun. "Where's our son?"

Her smile only grew. "Harry, the phoenix tears arrived early. He's in the procedure room right now."

Harry stared at her, stunned. "It's…here?"

"Hopefully mending him as we speak."

He fell back against the mattress weakly. "Oh, thank Merlin!"

Ginny sat down on the bed. She passed Harry a mug of tea. He sat back up and took a grateful sip.

"It's a miracle they arrived when they did. The medicine doesn't seem to be working well anymore."

Harry lowered his tea. "It was horrible last night. I didn't wake you. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," she said immediately. "You were with him. And I'm so glad that you were."

"When did you wake up? Did he ever go to sleep?"

"Probably around an hour after you did. Yeah, he did finally fall asleep, for an hour or so. But then Vic arrived with the news and they took him immediately back for the procedure."

"How long should it take?"

"They aren't sure. I already sent an owl to McGonagall; I assumed you'd want to wait here today."

"I do."

---

Harry and Ginny rose as Vic stepped through the doorway. Her exuberant smile told them all they needed to know.

"It worked," she laughed. She clapped her hands together, and in her uninhibited joy, Harry saw a flash of five-year-old Victoire. "It worked amazingly well. Look at these scans."

She withdrew shimmering gold sheets of daintily thin parchment. Harry and Ginny hurried over and peered at each one. Harry hadn't seen the first, but he assumed the smooth lines and absence of internal bleeding were a good thing. Ginny seemed breathless with relief.

"I don't see any damage…even his liver and his heart, look, Harry, not one slice, not one wound. And the pain, Vic? It's gone entirely?"

"He's been begging me to let him walk downstairs for some shepherd's pie if that tells you anything."

Harry immediately turned to Ginny. She turned to him. They threw themselves into each other's arms, laughter leaving them in thrilled peals. Harry gripped Ginny so tightly that it was nearly painful.

"He's better," he choked.

"No more pain," Ginny added, sounding equally teary. She leaned back. "Let's take him to get that shepherd's pie."

---

He ate exactly like one might expect a teenage boy who hadn't seen real food in days to eat. Harry was mildly impressed.

"Another?" Albus asked hopefully, after polishing off an entire shepherd's pie.

"No, sorry, Al," Ginny said. "Vic said you weren't to push it. Are you really still hungry?"

"Not really…I just missed the taste of food so much…" he admitted, his eyes pinned dreamily on the display of cakes and pies.

Harry laughed. He reached over and ruffled Albus's hair. Albus didn't even pull away or scowl, which Harry considered a win for fatherhood all around.

"All right," Albus said. He stood up on shaky but determined legs. "Let's go."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a confused look. "Go?"

Albus nodded. He smiled. "Yeah! To drop me off at Hogwarts. Scorpius is going to be thrilled!"

Harry's heart sank.

"Al…we can't just take you back."

Albus's smile faltered. He looked from Harry to Ginny.

"Why not? I'm fine! I feel better than fine! I feel better than I've ever felt!"

"They just did a procedure that they've never done before; they have to keep an eye on you. Besides, curse damage is tricky. There's always a chance it could come back," Ginny said gently.

Albus stared. A heavy silence settled over them.

"So what? I'm supposed to live here in a bubble for the rest of my life?" he demanded. He was visibly disappointed. Harry frowned.

"Of course not. Just for a week or so, and then depending on how you're doing, maybe another week or maybe—"

"A week?! No. No!"

"Al—"

"That's rubbish! That's rubbish! I'm better! I don't need to be here anymore, I need to be at Hogwarts!"

People were paying close attention to them now. Harry saw a few people pulling out cameras. He quickly stood and approached Albus. He gently grabbed his arm.

"Let's go upstairs and talk to your Healers about it."

"Fine," Albus snapped.

He'd been shaky on the walk down, but that was nothing compared to the walk back. He stumbled stepping into the lift; Harry barely managed to catch him. He heard the sound of a camera clicking behind them before the lift doors slammed shut. Albus slowly stood back up, his hand clenched tightly around the side rail. His legs were quivering.

"I'm fine," he snapped, before Ginny could even vocalize the words that had been building. He leaned against the lift wall the rest of the trip, barely managing to remain upright. Harry and Ginny avoided eyes.

He immediately begged Victoire to let him leave as soon as they returned from the ward. When she told him no, very firmly, his eyes filled with angry tears.

"I just want to go back!" he raged aloud. His legs shook worse than ever. Victoire was frowning.

"Your legs are still weak?"

"No, I'm just reenacting a Jelly-Legs jinx for the fun of it!" Albus snapped.

She was still frowning.

"What?" Harry asked immediately.

She hesitated. "We hoped the weakness was from the pain."

"But he's not in pain anymore," Ginny said.

"I know. Which means the weakness in his legs is most likely from his brain bleed."

Albus threw himself down onto the bed. "Oh, great! So I'm crippled now, too?! Fantastic!"

Victoire scowled. She switched from Healer Weasley to Albus's cousin in a nanosecond. She reached over and lightly smacked Albus's head. "You're not crippled, Albus, stop being dramatic. It's really common after a cerebral hemorrhage. Luckily for you, you're a wizard; we've got a potion for that."

Harry hardly dared to believe it. "A potion? Just like that and he'll be better?"

"Well…potions would be more accurate. He'll have to take it three times a day every day for a month. But after that, yeah."

"A month without being able to walk?" Albus asked, incredulous.

"Oi—be glad you're not a Muggle; they do odd manual labor to try and improve mobility. Physical therapy, they call it," Vic told Albus sternly. "And that can take years to show any improvement."

Albus didn't seem that reassured. He crossed his legs atop the bed, snatched the Marauder's Map from the bedside table, and then stared at it angrily until Ginny tossed him her wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he grumbled.

"Well, at least you're honest about it."

"Not funny, Mum," Albus snapped.

"I thought it was funny," Harry said.

"See? Dad thought it was funny."

"Dad thinks everything you say is funny," Albus muttered. Harry looked at Ginny. They both shrugged.

"Good luck," Victoire told them. "I'll see if I can get an estimate on when he can be released."

"Thanks, but don't rush it just because he's in a mood," Harry said. "We want what's best for his health."

"Absolutely," Ginny echoed. "We can take his surliness. We can't take him getting worse again."

"I don't see him again!" Albus complained. "It's…what? Fifth period? What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Friday," Albus muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the map quickly. "So he should be in Potions right now…Dad, I don't see him!"

His tone went higher in his panic. Ginny sighed and dropped down beside Albus. She pulled the map from his hands.

"Let me look," she said.

Albus fidgeted nervously as she searched. After a moment, she smiled.

"There, see? He's just skived off class. He's in the second-floor corridor."

"What's he doing there?" Albus demanded. "Scorpius doesn't skive off class."

"Hang on, let me just tune into the Scorpius Malfoy radio station I've conveniently got in my brain…ah, yes, here we are…gathering a thought…he's thinking about books…"

"Mum!" Albus complained, but Harry caught his lips twitching for a moment. Harry walked over and sat beside Ginny. He watched Scorpius's moving dot.

"Oh," he realized. "I think he's going to my office."

Albus looked up. "You went there and told him why you wouldn't be teaching today, right? You told him I was getting the phoenix tears."

Harry hesitated. "Er…"

Albus's eyes widened. He looked between them. "Well, somebody at least told him something, right? Because if Dad never showed up to school, he probably thought that meant something bad happened to me!"

Bollocks.

"To be honest, Al…we weren't thinking about much but you at the time. We didn't even tell James or Lily which…I realize now…was a mistake…Harry, they're in McGonagall's office."

"James and Lily?"

"Yes."

"Okay. We messed up."

"Right. We did. Again."

Albus climbed off the bed. He held onto the edge to keep himself steady and upright.

"Well, I guess we'd better go to Hogwarts and explain everything to them!"

"Your dad or I will go to Hogwarts and bring them here. You can't go anywhere yet, Al, and that's that," Ginny said firmly.

Albus glowered, but he reluctantly sat back onto the bed. "You mean Scorpius, too, right?"

"If McGonagall and Draco allow it."

"They'll allow it," Albus said stubbornly.

Harry looked at Ginny. However many days Albus had to remain in hospital…it was going to be a rough ride for everybody.

---

On Wednesday of the following week, Harry arrived at Hogwarts with a massive, inherited cupboard from Percy and Audrey's loft, which the couple swore contained a boggart. Ordinarily, dealing with boggarts was fairly standard, but Harry had been stunned to learn the day prior that only the seventh years had ever been taught how to get rid of a boggart. (And, well…he still hadn't finished marking their essays, and he was becoming rapidly unpopular amongst the students for that reason, so he hoped a "fun day" would lighten everybody up. And give him more time to finish marking those essays.)

"Morning, Harry!" Neville greeted cheerfully. He was reading that morning's Prophet in a staffroom chair. Harry stumbled from the fireplace with the cupboard.

"Morning, Neville," Harry said. Neville looked quizzically at the cupboard. "Oh—boggart."

"Ah. The students will love that."

"That's the plan. Neville, is it…unusual for professors to take over a week returning essays to the students?"

"No, but that's usually when the students start getting restless, so most try to do it before then," Neville said.

"They're certainly…restless," Harry muttered. He dropped the cupboard and levitated it.

"Here, I'll walk with you," Neville offered. He folded up the Prophet and stood. "I was about to head to my office anyway."

They set off together, weaving themselves and the massive furniture piece through the sea of groggy students.

"How's Al? Any news on when he'll get out?"

"Tomorrow, if we're lucky. I think Ginny was praying when I left her this morning…sounded like she was going alphabetically through a mental list of every deity possible…"

Neville laughed. "Ginny? Things must be getting worse with Albus."

"He's acting exactly as you'd expect a perfectly healthy teenage boy cooped up inside a hospital with his parents all day to act. He surly, he's bored, he's desperate for escape. If his legs actually cooperated, he'd probably try to make a run for it." Harry motioned nervously for a throng of first years to jump out of the way. They narrowly avoided being smashed by the cupboard. He continued once their path was clear. "Albus told Ginny to 'go away and leave him alone' this morning."

Neville winced. "Yikes. I'll send Ginny flowers later. How's she handling that?"

"She said: 'mark it down—Albus's brief stint as the Potter Mummy's Boy has ended on this day'. And then she cried for hours…"

"She did not cry," Neville grinned.

Harry grinned back. "No, she didn't. She left. Wasn't even ten minutes before Albus called her back in—said he felt guilty, but I think it was because he needed the loo and he refuses to ask anybody but me or Ginny to help him walk."

"Is he coming back here once he's released? What's he going to do about the walking issue? Hogwarts isn't exactly very accessible…I've had words with McGonagall and the Ministry about it on many occasions, but apparently it's impossible to put in lifts due to the structure of the castle…"

"He gets around all right with a cane and somebody at his other side. I've spoken with all his professors. He'll be given as much time as he needs to get to and from class. And—this will probably make the entire thing worth it to him—I've worked it out with McGonagall for him to have an assistant to help him around who can also be late to class."

"And I'm guessing Mr. Scorpius Malfoy is ready to fill that role."

"Oddly enough, Scorpius is probably who McGonagall would've picked even if he and Albus weren't together. He's perfectly suited for any role that involves helping others."

"Always hilarious considering what his father was like at his age and how much Scorpius physically favors him."

"You're not kidding. I do a double-take sometimes."

More students flooded their path.

"Move, please!" Harry yelled. "I don't want to hit anybody—Rosamund! Move!"

The third-year Gryffindor darted to the right, only to weave back forward towards them. Harry noticed as she approached that she was gripping her left hand. Her fingers were bleeding profusely.

"Professor Longbottom!" she cried. "Professor Longbottom, look!"

She held out her hand. Harry and Neville stopped walking. Harry grimaced. Something seemed to have taken a chunk out of her fingers.

"What happened?" Neville asked worriedly. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and reached forward, gently wrapping it around Ophelia Rosamund's injured hand. He squeezed gently to apply pressure. "Did you keep that illegal fly trap even after I told you to bring it to my office?"

She bit her lip. Her eyes filled steadily with tears. Neville's sternness faded immediately.

"Don't cry, it's all right," he told her kindly. "You're all right; Madam Pomfrey can fix this in a second. Let's go to the Hospital Wing…come along…" Neville gently guided Ophelia forward. "Bye, Harry."

"Bye, good luck with the fly trap."

Harry was nearly to his classroom when he caught a brief glance of red hair. He turned around automatically, following it with his eyes. He stared down towards the end of the corridor. Lily—that had to be Lily, he knew that shade of red anywhere, and she was walking like Lily. But who the hell was the boy with his arm around her shoulders? Harry hardly noticed the students knocking into his wardrobe. He squinted. His heart jumped as he caught the unmistakable flash of Slytherin green as the boy shifted slightly to the right to point something out to Lily. Harry stared dumbly as they disappeared.

He was still shocked as he set the wardrobe down at the front of his classroom. He was pushing desks back against the far walls, his mind a million miles away, when he heard somebody enter. A familiar, flowery scent followed.

"You could use magic to do that," Ginny greeted.

"Need to do it this way," Harry muttered. For a moment, he didn't process that Ginny was there. And then he turned. "Wait—what are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too," she said. She pulled her wand out and sent some of the last desks towards the walls. "I made the mistake of trying to comb Albus's hair. He told me: 'please go away for a few hours before I lose my mind'. He was fairly annoyed. I think he'll actually make it two hours this time before he sends Vic looking for me."

She walked over and sat atop his desk. She swung her legs in a very Lily-esque fashion. Harry remembered why he felt so sick to his stomach.

"Gin, I think Lily's got a boyfriend."

He said it in a way somebody might say I think our child's run away or I think our child's starting a blood supremacists' cult. Ginny didn't seem half as affected by the news. In fact, she only looked mildly interested.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"She was—I saw her—she was walking with a boy! And his arm was around her! And he was a Slytherin!"

Ginny valiantly fought back her laughter. "Are you sure it wasn't Scorpius?"

"No! It wasn't Scorpius! Why are you laughing? This is serious!"

She rolled her eyes. "First of all—just because he's got his arm around her doesn't mean she's dating him. She's Lily. Loads of boys probably put their arms around her."

"Loads of boys try—but she pushes their arms right off! I've seen it!"

"Okay, so, she decided she was all right with this boy doing it. There's nothing wrong with that."

"She's thirteen!" he exploded, horrified, shaken.

"And I'd be very concerned if you told me that she was snogging somebody against a wall. He had his arm around her shoulders, Harry. So what?"

"So—so! Arms around shoulders lead to—other things! Bad things!"

"Harry."

"No, don't…Harry me! You were never a teenage boy!"

"No, but I spent the majority of my life around them. Lily can hold her own. You're really panicking over nothing, you know. And I find this extremely hypocritical considering James and Nora have practically been joined at the hip since they met at King's Cross at age eleven."

"That's different. That's extremely different because I trust James, I know he's good kid and that he would never pressure Nora or anybody else into anything, but this Slytherin boy—"

"Please remember that our son is in Slytherin when you take that tone."

"…Sorry. Sort of," he dismissed. "Look. I couldn't see who that kid was. He could be a Death Eater's son, Ginny!"

"You know who else is a Death Eater's son and happens to be dating one of our children?"

"Scorpius is a shining exception to everything!"

"And this boy could be, too!"

"I'm not willing to wait and find out!"

"Don't you go meddling in her love life, Harry! She isn't stupid and she's going to have a hard enough time when we tell her we're moving here, do you really think having her father interrogate some random boy who had his arm around her will make her any more eager for—"

"Love life?! Love life?! She's thirteen! Thirteen! Lulu! Thirteen! Baby! Our baby!" His face was throbbing in his anger. He was getting a headache. "Thirteen! Lulu!"

"…I see now that you've honestly lost it and there's no point in arguing with you."

"Oh, just—just—go back to St. Mungo's!" he raged, without thinking it through. "I'll handle this myself!"

He regretted the words not even two seconds after he'd uttered them. His heart plummeted with nauseating speed—mostly because he hadn't meant that at all. His wife was staring at him, her eyebrows lifted in affront.

"Sent away again," she finally said coolly. "Fine."

She slid off the desk. Harry watched her walk to the door. Wait, no, was building up his throat when she stopped walking and turned, her eyes flashing.

"Merlin forbid—if there is ever a day that I'm not here to be sent away—I think you and Al might both come to appreciate my meddling a bit more."

Harry cursed loudly after she walked off. He aimed a kick at the wardrobe. He heard somebody clear their throat. He turned around to see Aster Boot watching him curiously.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked innocently.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just wishing I couldn't speak."

"That's an odd thing to wish for. What's the wardrobe for?"

"Boggart," Harry said shortly. He watched Aster walk over to the spot her desk normally was. She sat down on the ground. Harry swallowed his angry tears.

"Where's Lily, Aster?"

Aster didn't meet his eyes. "Oh…here, there, everywhere, nowhere…who can tell with her?"

"You could tell. You're her best friend."

Aster looked up. She mimed locking her lips shut. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Who's she with?" he demanded.

She busied herself with pulling items from her bag. "No idea what you mean, Professor."

"I saw her walking with a boy."

"We walk with loads of boys. They're funny."

"A Slytherin boy."

She didn't look surprised. She gave him no reaction at all. "Well, one-fourth of the boys in our year are in Slytherin."

"Aster!"

She looked up at him. Her dark eyes held nothing but brave determination.

"Professor Potter, I will not betray my best friend. Would you like to give me detention for that?"

Harry took a moment to silently bemoan the fact that Lily always seemed to find the sassiest peers to associate herself with.

"You know I'm not going to give you detention," Harry finally grumbled.

"Oh, good, because I really didn't want it."

Harry turned back around to his desk. He pretended to sort through papers. He closed his eyes tightly. He was filled with so much regret that it made him ill.

"You know," Aster said, "when my mum and dad fight, it's always over really silly stuff. Crossword puzzles, work things, one time they got into a fight over the history of candlelight...one time my dad said 'Padma, I can't even be in the same room with you right now!'. It was bad. They hurt each other's feelings. Then my dad went and he bought ten roses for every mean word that he'd said. And it worked. So you should do that, too."

"I'm not fighting with Lily's mum," Harry muttered.

"You are so! She stormed right out of here! I was standing outside the door!" Aster paused for a second. "When Leo's mums fight they write songs for each other—"

"Aster, I'm not talking about marital disagreements with you."

"Fine…only trying to help…Lily wouldn't live through a divorce, I just know it."

"Nobody's getting a divorce."

"Statistically, somebody definitely is right as we speak."

Harry sat down in his seat. He lowered his forehead down onto the desk. That's where he stayed until the rest of his students began filing in, and after the last entered, Lily still hadn't arrived. Harry was beginning to panic, though he was trying his hardest to hide it.

"Hi. All right. So."

"Do you have our essays to hand back?" Evandrus Davies asked.

Harry sighed. "No. I don't. I will soon. Today we're going to do a practical lesson—we're going to learn how to get rid of boggarts."

A thrill went through the classroom like a shock. Students perked up and began whispering excitedly to their peers.

"If we have time afterwards, we'll continue working on our Patronuses. Okay. What we're going to do is very simple…-"

The classroom door opened. To Harry's intermingled surprise and joy, his two favorite girls in the entire world walked in. His heart skipped a beat as he briefly locked eyes with Ginny. She had Lily sternly by the upper arm.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said stiffly. "Just returning a wayward student to you."

The classroom had erupted into excited whispers again at the sudden appearance of Mrs. Potter. Harry arched an eyebrow at Lily. She crossed her arms and refused to meet his eyes. Ginny gently nudged her forward.

"Go on," she told their daughter.

Lily stomped her way over to Aster's side. Emi Crescent leaned forward and patted Lily's hair. Ginny turned to leave, and Harry's stomach rolled again—

"Wait. Stay."

She paused, but she didn't turn around. Harry swallowed and shot a quick look at his eavesdropping students. He walked over and stood beside Ginny, so both their backs were to his students. He stared at his feet and whispered his words so quickly and quietly that even Ginny might've missed them.

"I didn't mean it. Please stay."

Ginny didn't say anything for a moment. And then:

"I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings like that."

He could tell regret had been eating her alive, too. He hesitantly turned to the side. She did the same. They locked eyes. She was the first to give a halfhearted smile, one Harry returned as a bright beam. Relief nearly floored him.

"Okay?" he asked. He was asking many things within that one word: are you okay? Are you okay to stay? Are we okay?

She nodded. Her eyes shifted to the wardrobe. "Boggarts?"

"Yeah. Want to help?"

"All right," she agreed easily.

Harry felt much lighter and more confident as he walked back to the front of the classroom. He smiled at his students.

"Okay, before I get into the spell itself, I see a few of you look nervous. If you don't want to do this in front of the class, that's perfectly all right. You may sit along the wall and observe. We can set up a time for you to come by my office and do it on your own. Is everybody okay with that?"

Murmurs of agreement spread across the classroom. Lily walked forward, grabbed Ginny's hand, and pulled her over to stand with her and her friends. Harry was still grinning as he began instruction on the spell itself. By the time he finished, students were fighting over places in the queue. Harry stood beside the wardrobe.

"Remember," he instructed. "Don't let the fear take over. Force your mind to see it as something funny—something funny enough to make you laugh as we discussed, that's the most important part—and then cast the spell. Don't panic if you don't manage. Just move to the back of the queue; it'll take the form of the worst fear of person behind you and you can try again. Ready, Cresswell?"

Leo Cresswell nodded. He looked every inch a Gryffindor, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, his shoulders squared, his eyes locked on the wardrobe. Harry was marveling his nerve. And then Harry opened the wardrobe, released the boggart, and it turned…into a brown rabbit.

Leo let out an almighty shriek. For his classmates' benefit, hardly any of them laughed; most of them managed to contain it.

"Okay, er…make it funnier…" Harry advised. But how did one make something as innocent as a rabbit funny?

"O-okay…okay…I can do this…" Leo said, trembling. He took a deep breath. He shot a quick, self-conscious look Lily's way, but Lily was involved in a whispered conversation with Aster and wasn't even paying attention. Harry saw Ginny nudge Lily and point towards the front.

"Riddikulus!" Leo cried.

Nothing happened. The rabbit hopped closer to Leo. He shrieked again.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no…"

"Put it on a broom!" somebody called out.

"Put it in cute clothes!" somebody else said.

"Make it sing!"

Leo screwed his eyes shut. "Riddikulus!"

There was the sound of a crack. The rabbit found itself wearing women's high-heel shoes. Leo gave a shaky chuckle. It wasn't near enough to finish the boggart off, but Harry had expected (and counted) on that; he wanted every student to have a try.

"Nice work, Leo!" he praised loudly, hoping to boost Leo's confidence for the next round. Harry could feel Ginny's eyes on him, and when he met her glance, she was smiling at him with a familiar intensity in her eyes. His ears burned. He cleared his throat and ushered Leo back to the end of the queue.

Quinton Bell turned a manticore into a house cat that remarkably resembled McGonagall's animagus form; Emi Crescent turned a vampire's fangs into butterflies; Aster Boot turned a churning, raging sea into a wading pool complete with Muggle rubber ducks. When Lily stepped forward, Harry was confident that he already knew what the boggart would turn into. When she was six-years-old, a boggart had moved into the space beneath her bed while they were gone on a month long holiday. They'd returned late at night and had immediately sent her to bed, only to hear her hysterical shrieks only moments later. Harry had sprinted up the stairs in record time, blasted Lily's bedroom door open in a panic, only to find her hopping around with her eyes shut, trying her hardest to beat a basilisk to death with her stuffed dragon.

He was prepared now. He moved around to be closer to the class in case the appearance of the giant serpent caused a panic (Quinton's manticore had nearly caused a Ravenclaw boy to pass out). Lily stood firmly in place, wand held ready, eyes fiercely locked on the cupboard doors. She had the stance of somebody ready to square off against a basilisk. But when the boggart shifted shape, it didn't turn into what Harry had expected.

It split off into many different parts, and everybody watched as those parts morphed into people. Slowly, they took the form of her family and her friends. The class was silent as one by one every person Lily cared about began to laugh. It was clear after a moment that it was aimed at her.

Harry was taken aback, but not nearly as taken aback as Lily.

"Pathetic, the youngest Potter, helpless and frail…" said Teddy's boggart form.

"She's such a baby, my baby sister…useless…" said boggart-James.

"Can't even protect herself," boggart-Ginny sang, "because she's so frightened all the time…"

And worst of all was boggart-Harry, who sneered at Lily and said: 'You may have everybody else fooled, but I know, deep down, you're just a weak little girl—"

Lily was at a loss of how to make this funny; it was obvious she hadn't anticipated it. Her wide eyes flickered from face to face as they continued undermining Lily's ability and power, reminding her of how 'weak and frightened' she was until she actually began to look both weak and frightened. Harry was preparing to jump in front of her, but Ginny beat him to it.

The figures vanished. The boggart seemed to pause, as if unable to decide what form to take, until: James was curled up on the floor, sobbing so hard he sounded near hyperventilation—but then: Hagrid was carrying Harry's limp body from the Forbidden Forest—but no, the boggart changed its mind again: Albus was lying alone, shivering, calling for his mum in a broken, pain-soaked voice—Lily was screaming in pain and writhing—

"Oh, would you hold still, you evil, nasty creature—Riddikulus!"

Crack. Two figures split from Lily. James and Albus reappeared, but this time they hoisted Lily into the air until she began laughing. James cracked a silly joke, one he used to tell all the time when he was younger about a garden gnome and Father Christmas. Ginny gave a slightly exaggerated laugh; the boggart disappeared, though Harry was certain it'd be back soon.

Silence settled over the classroom.

"Well that was emotionally violating," Ginny finally said. A few students laughed. Ginny pointed sternly at the class. "If any of this ends up in any magazine or tabloid, I'll know exactly who to find. I never forget a face."

"Damn," somebody hissed.

"Er," Harry said, before any of his students thought challenging Mrs. Potter on that was a good idea, "anyone else?"

Nobody dared to take a step forward, obviously worried they'd end up vulnerable and embarrassed in front of the entire class like Lily had been. Harry glanced Lily's way. Her expression was already hardened defensively as if daring anybody to tease her.

"Er…sometimes, if the boggart can't decide what your worst fear is, it sort of…you know…hobbles together a…universal fear…" he was lying. He didn't want to lie. But he wanted to save Lily's reputation.

"That's not what the book said, Lily's Dad," Evandrus Davies argued immediately. "In fact, the book said if it can't determine your worse fear, it will rotate through all of them! Like we saw with Lily's Mum."

"Ginny," Harry corrected automatically. "Or—Mrs. Potter."

Like every other correction on titles, Evandrus ignored him. Harry sighed.

"All right, we're done for the day. Those of you who didn't go—stay behind so I can schedule a time for you to come by my office."

Lily stood by Ginny's side in the back of the classroom as Harry scrawled down the students who hadn't gone and the time for them to meet with him. Once the last person left, Lily huffed.

"Your boggart's broken, Dad."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that.

"It's not broken and there's nothing wrong with your fear," Ginny said immediately.

"Yes there is. I really thought it'd be something else."

Harry walked over and joined them. He pulled Lily into his arms. She sniffled into his cloak.

"You can't expect your fears to remain the same as they were when you were six, Lulu," he said gently.

Lily leaned back and looked up at Harry. "What?"

"The boggart underneath your bed when you were six. Turned into a basilisk. Remember?"

Lily blinked. "Oh. I'd forgotten about that. That wasn't what I thought it'd turn into."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "What did you think you'd see?"

She sniffled. "I thought—I thought it would show me Opal in a tiny cage."

"Oh, Lu," Ginny said gently. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Lily and Harry.

"I was g-going to make him burn the cage open and breathe glitter."

"That would've been a good one," Harry said soothingly. "Don't worry, Lily—they don't always show what you think they will. You're not the first person this has happened to."

Lily looked up at Ginny. "Did you know, Mum? Did it show what you thought it would?"

Harry was certain that it had—Ginny hadn't looked shocked at all, merely distressed. Ginny managed a smile.

"No—I thought I'd see James's eight future kids," she teased. Harry and Lily both laughed. Ginny tapped Lily's nose. "C'mon, I'll walk you to your next class. Charms, right?"

Lily sniffed and nodded. She took her mum's hand. They set off towards the Charms classroom while Harry shut the wardrobe doors. Just as he'd suspected, the boggart had only retreated back inside; he heard the trademark scratching soon after Ginny left.

---

He was growing anxious. Nearly every fifth year Hufflepuff and Slytherin was in the classroom—except for Scorpius. He hovered nervously near the classroom door, peeking out to scan the corridors every few moments, in case somebody had stopped Scorpius on his way.

"Are you okay, Professor?"

He wasn't even sure who asked.

"Perfect," he lied, without even turning back around.

"Do you have our essays—"

"No, I do not have the essays. You will be the first person to know when I do have the essays."

He hadn't meant to sound that harsh. He turned around.

"Erm. Everybody queue up in front of the wardrobe, please."

At the very last moment before the lesson was due to begin, Scorpius and Ginny entered. They were laughing, so Harry took that to mean nothing dangerous had befallen Scorpius. He wasn't even sure when somebody would've had the opportunity to hurt him, anyway; James, Nora, Ben Wood, and Evvie Wilson had taken a personal interest in Scorpius's wellbeing. It was rare to find Scorpius in the library without one of them nearby. And he was still sleeping in the Room of Requirement, something McGonagall and Slughorn were turning a blind eye to. Harry supposed he was just paranoid, and really, he had every right to be.

Scorpius went to stand at the back of the queue. Ginny approached the front and gently grabbed onto Harry's arm, tugging him a few steps to the side. He studied her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Scorpius wants to do his boggart in your office, not here," Ginny whispered.

Harry nodded. "I assumed. Are you staying?"

"For a bit, yeah." She reached up and patted his cheek. "Let's see you do your thing, Professor Potter."

She had the audacity to wink, and Harry's students didn't miss it. Cackles and whistles flooded the room. His cheeks burned…but that didn't stop him from grinning soppily at her as she walked over and sat along the far wall. He gave himself a moment and then shook his head.

"All right, today we're—all right, that's enough! Seriously, stop. Stop whistling!"

"The Boy Who Sh—!"

"Finish that sentence and enjoy spending your Saturday nights with me, Bigelow."

Everybody quickly quieted.

"Right. We're doing a practical lesson today. I'm sure many of you raised within wizarding families have already learned how to do this, but I know for a fact that a good portion of you have never had the opportunity, so today we're going to learn how to banish boggarts."

A few students groaned, but the majority looked excited. Harry came to stand in front of the wardrobe. He gave his instructions, instructed those who didn't wish to do the activity publically to go sit along the wall, and then pulled the wardrobe doors open again. Rina Matthewson turned a werewolf into a Golden Retriever puppy; Malcolm Bletchley made his centipede breakdance; Sigmund Stone's boggart morphed into lightning which he then (annoyingly) turned into Harry and his trademark scar. The class was laughing raucously now, working quickly through the boggart, passing it from one person to the next at a dizzying rate. A Slytherin girl was the first to falter; her boggart turned into a massive rat, and instead of trying the spell, she shrieked and ran over to the back of the classroom. The boggart followed. People were laughing, Harry was encouraging her to stand her ground and try, classmates were calling out suggestions, and in the midst of the chaos, Harry failed to notice where she was leading the boggart.

She was terrified. When she dove behind Iset Goyle—who was sitting along the wall, opting out like Scorpius—he couldn't really blame her; she had shut down in fear. But what happened next made everybody jump. Suddenly, when faced with Iset instead of the Slytherin, the giant rat morphed into a massively beefy man. His hands were clenched in meaty fists. His body was curved forward, bearing down over Iset. Adult Gregory Goyle opened his mouth, and at once, horrible things came out in a harsh, vicious bark: Worthless, stupid, I never wanted you, I told your mother to get rid of you, disgusting—

Everybody was so shocked by the nastiness of it that nobody moved. That is, except for Scorpius. Before Harry or Ginny could say a word, he rose from his seat and stepped in front of Iset.

Harry didn't know how he knew, but he did. The second the boggart began to swirl and shift, he sprinted across the classroom. He was just a moment too late. It sank down to the floor and took form. It became Albus— Albus lying on his back on the floor, in a deep pool of blood, dead.

Harry pushed Scorpius back into his chair and took his spot. He couldn't care about what his own boggart would show because he was still reeling from the sight of Albus's blood-soaked, lifeless form. His hands were shaking. He felt liable to vomit. He just—needed that to go away. He couldn't see Albus like that. Not ever again. It had to go away.

The boggart decided what Harry's worst fear was.

He was looking at himself.

Rapid, confused whispering spread across the classroom. Harry stared at his boggart. And his boggart stared back at him. Harry examined his double's form as his heartbeat pounded out an anxious rhythm. Lightning scar, glasses, unruly hair, I must not tell lies. Nearly everything was the same—except for his boggart's left hand. Harry instinctively lifted his own. He touched his wedding band. And he understood with a wave of fear exactly what he was seeing in front of him.

Focus…funny…something funny…it's not real. It's not real. They exist. You aren't alone. It isn't true. You do have a family. You're not alone anymore. You're no longer the only Potter. It isn't true…

"Riddikulus!"

There was a ripple in his double's form as the Boggart split off into four new pieces. Boggart Harry was enveloped in hugs as his family appeared suddenly behind him. Harry's laugh was one of relief more than anything else, but his spell had done the trick. The boggart dissolved and sped back towards the wardrobe. Harry could feel every set of eyes on him.

"Er…so…did everybody get a go?"

Murmurs of affirmation. Harry realized his wand hand was trembling slightly. He pushed it into his pocket. So much for his fun, lighthearted practical lesson; nearly everybody looked a bit disturbed.

"I…incorrectly assumed…that we would be dealing with loads of boggart spiders," Harry finally said. Thankfully, a few students laughed. "But this is the reality of boggarts. They can be horribly nasty. You have to be prepared to face whatever it is that frightens you the most. You all did really, really well."

Gradually, the students' expressions shifted to something a bit more pleased.

"You can leave if you wish. Don't forget the homework due Monday."

"Professor Potter—"

"Yes, I will have your essays back to you by then."

"About time," somebody murmured. Harry resisted the urge to glare. The students gathered their bags from the back wall and began migrating towards the exit, but Ginny stood and called them to a stop.

"Wait a moment," she instructed, and immediately, everybody froze. "Please don't let me catch any of you selling information from this lesson to trashy tabloids. I work with the Prophet, you see, and when they say 'a confidential source'? It's not always confidential. Everybody in our world would do well to remember that."

A few Hufflepuff boys made a suggestive comment that sounded suspiciously like we'd do anything you asked of us, Mrs. Potter. Harry did glare this time. They had the decency to pause their snickering and look moderately contrite.

"Don't worry, we're not idiots," Sigmund Stone spoke up. He gestured around at his fellow fifth years. "We don't want to get on the Potters' bad side. Look what happened to Rita Skeeter."

Conversation bloomed amongst the standing students. Harry's eyes automatically sought out Saul Montague.

"Yeah, funny what happened to her," Saul said, his eyes locking with Harry's. "She—like many others—dared to speak out with an opinion opposite from Harry Potter's, and lo and behold, she found herself in Azkaban."

Harry's hand clenched into a fist inside of his pocket, but he forced himself to maintain a calm outward expression. Ginny sounded amused.

"Saul Montague, I'm assuming," she said.

"Yeah? And?" Saul challenged.

"Oh, nothing. I just find it beneficial to know the names of people who openly imply that Death Eaters shouldn't be in Azkaban."

Harry had really hoped to get through this lesson without having another argument with Saul Montague, but judging by the way everybody was paused and staring, another one was building.

"There are more of us than you know," Saul finally said, in a decidedly threatening tone. Ginny lifted her eyebrows. "More of us here than you could imagine."

"Yeah, sorry, but you won't intimidate me with that. I was here during the real Death Eater reign, not this silly Junior replay. And…not to discourage you or your mates…but we won back then, too. And we were only sixteen and seventeen."

A Slytherin girl, Claire Theva, came to stand beside Saul. She appraised Ginny with cold eyes.

"Let's go, Saul," she said. She turned him. As they were walking, she distinctly mumbled to him: if we're not a threat, then how did we almost murder her son? They both sniggered quietly. Iset, who was standing close enough to overhear, audibly gasped.

Harry could've reached out and taken Ginny's hand to prevent her from blocking their exit, but he was hoping she'd Scourgify their mouths out. She stepped in front of the two students and stared hard at them; Saul automatically retreated two steps.

"That's funny, is it? Killing your peers? Your fellow classmates? Hey—who here thinks that's funny? No, honestly. Raise your hands and face me. Who thinks it's hilarious that Albus almost died?"

Nobody moved an inch, including Saul and Claire.

"Oh, see, this is funnier," Ginny continued, her eyes landing back on Saul and Claire. Her voice had turned cold. "You've got the guts to whisper it to each other, but you don't have the guts to say it to his mother's face. Here's a bit of advice from somebody who knows Death Eaters a hell of a lot better than you two ever will: a real Death Eater would've killed my 'blood traitor' son and made me watch. A real Death Eater would've tortured him for hours before finally letting him die. A real Death Eater—no, where are you going? You ought to know exactly what you're modeling yourselves after." Saul and Claire froze again in the process of stepping past Ginny. "A real Death Eater would find no objection to killing an infant all because of a hypothetical prophecy that they hadn't even heard in full. A real Death Eater would murder their own family. All these tragic, lost Death Eater parents, who never got to raise their poor children due to imprisonment or death, they would've killed those same children in the blink of an eye if Lord Voldemort suggested it."

Nobody was breathing. Claire looked close to tears.

"You're all so young. You don't understand," Ginny continued. "You didn't see what it was like. Time has dimmed the horrors for you because you don't have any personal memories of it. All you have are personal recounts from biased family members and what's written in history books, and I'm sure you've convinced yourself the history books are biased in Harry Potter's favor. But if you'd like some solid evidence—if ever you find yourself wanting to know the real truth—I, Professor Longbottom, and many others have got plenty of scars we can show you. You can look at ours. And then you can ask your ex-Death Eater relatives how many scars we gave them. I think you'll find that says it all."

For an extended moment, nobody moved. Finally, Saul and Claire fled the classroom, walking quickly, their faces burning in embarrassment. One by one, students trickled after. Ginny caught Scorpius before he ducked from the classroom. She pulled him into a tight, affectionate hug, one the boy immediately sank into.

"When I said real Death Eaters," she whispered gently, "I meant those who wanted to be there—not those forced to be there because of their parents or because of Voldemort's threats. Do you understand?"

Scorpius nodded against her shoulder. Harry turned to give them a moment because he could tell Scorpius was upset. His eyes fell on the last lingering pupil—Iset. She almost always lingered at the end of lessons, taking ages to pack up her parchment, her quills, her books. Harry was certain there was something she wanted to talk to him about, but she never could work up the nerve to do it, no matter how many conversations he started or how many gentle prods he gave.

He walked over and sat down in the seat beside the one her bag was resting in. She glanced up at him.

"Your boggart reminded me of my Uncle Vernon," he said. "Looks like they share a similar parenting style."

Iset pursed her lips. Her shaky hands fumbled with the zipper on her bag. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Harry said. He watched her struggle with the zipper for another moment and then he leaned forward to do it for her.

"Thanks," she said, but she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Iset, is there something you want to talk to me about?"

She met his eyes. And up until the moment she spoke, he was certain she was finally going to come clean; the look in her eyes begged for help.

"No, Professor."

He frowned. "Because if there was…you could. Whatever is wrong…it isn't too big to deal with."

"No, Professor."

"If you want to talk to somebody…if you need help…but you can't talk to me, for whatever reason…my son, James. James Potter—well, that's obvious, sorry. He's Head Boy. He would help you. He would do everything he could. And I promise that if you told him not to, he wouldn't tell me. He's always in the library a little after six. Near the reference section, I believe."

She nodded, but Harry could tell it was mostly to appease him. She stood.

"Thanks," she told him.

Scorpius and Ginny were chatting quietly now—Scorpius was laughing, so Harry assumed he felt all right. He walked over to join them.

"And he split open his head?" Scorpius asked.

Harry looked between them. "Are we talking about the Shower Calamity?"

"A funny story was needed," Ginny explained. "Anyway, so the two were supposed to be asleep—Harry and I were so proud because they'd both actually slept in their own beds then night prior, which was a feat, I'm sure you understand—and I went downstairs to take over breakfast duty so Harry wouldn't be late for work. He got into the shower—Harry, actually, maybe you should tell this?"

Harry found it easy to recall the story. "Well, I was in the shower. Everything was quiet. I thought the boys were asleep. Gin was downstairs making some horrid pregnancy-induced concoction—"

"I was not! It was breakfast!"

"It was squares of cheese floating inside cold porridge."

"It was delicious."

"Not the word I'd use to describe it…I was thinking: disturbed…unsettling…"

"Oh, would you get on with the story, Disturbed and Unsettled?"

Harry grinned. "Fine. I was showering when I heard this sudden clang. I assumed something fell downstairs. Being the concerned and loving husband that I am…I continued showering." Ginny elbowed him. He continued. "I was washing my hair when I felt cold air. And then—James and Albus appeared out of nowhere, ran right into the shower, grabbed onto my legs, and sent me jumping up in fright. The problem was, I'd just washed my hair, so soap was all over the floor. I slipped and slammed my head on the faucet and my head was bleeding profusely. They didn't care. James said: 'oh, we're taking a bath in the shower! Yay!'. Albus said 'Dada? Wake up? Good morning?' and decided sitting beside me and repeatedly swatting at my face was helpful. It wasn't."

"James ran downstairs to find me," Ginny added.

"But not before he'd gathered all the toys from the bathtub and thrown them into the shower."

"He said 'Daddy's bleeding so much, wow! And we're playing bath in the shower!'." Ginny recalled. "A sentence I never thought I'd hear."

Scorpius laughed.

"In James's defense, he sat beside Harry and kissed his head while I healed him."

Harry looked at Ginny, amused. "What was it Albus kept saying?"

"He kept throwing toys onto your chest."

"No, he kept saying something else—"

"Oh: 'you okay, Dada'. He thought you were being overdramatic. 'C'mon, you okay'."

Scorpius fell into a fit of giggly sounding laughter. Ginny and Harry were laughing along with him, too. Ginny observed Harry with fond eyes.

"Lord Voldemort couldn't kill you, but your three-year-old and toddler nearly had a fighting chance."

"And if three-year-old James and toddler Albus had been the Chosen Ones, Voldemort would've died in half the time."

"Oh, certainly. Without a doubt," Ginny agreed. "And they'd say 'whoopsie' after the murder and try to prop Voldemort's body up for an impromptu tea party."

Overcome with affection, and still absolutely brimming with relief that his life was his life, Harry threw caution (and routine) to the wind.

"Why don't we go to the hospital and have lunch with Albus? All of us. Scorpius, Lily, and James, too. If we're late coming back, we're late."

Scorpius grinned. "Yes! Yes, I think that's a brilliant idea, Harry!"

"As do I," Ginny smiled. "Albus will be thrilled to see a face other than mine."

Scorpius was still grinning. "He'll be thrilled to see my face!"

"Beyond thrilled, I'm sure," Ginny said. She and Harry shared a look. The boys were as inseparable as ever. Albus's near-death experience had only served to make their bond more concrete, not that Harry had expected anything different.

---

James and Lily were happy to get a "lunch trip". James had been especially pleased with the spontaneous lunch plans, and going by the particularly sweet way he was treating both Harry and Ginny, Harry suspected he'd either gotten into trouble or was avoiding something that was supposed to happen during the hour they'd pulled him away from school.

"I wouldn't send you away, Mum," James scoffed, after hearing all about Albus's grumpy morning.

Lily snorted. Harry rolled his eyes. Ginny leaned over and accepted the arm James slung over her shoulders. They walked side-by-side towards the lift at St. Mungo's. James continued as they stepped on.

"Albus is lucky," he said, affronted, as if Albus had somehow personally insulted him. "He has no idea the sort of mums people have…there's a girl in fourth year whose mum forgets her birthday every year!"

"Oh? That's sad," Ginny said.

"And another boy whose mum calls him all sorts of names. And we got you, which was, you know, the ultimate jackpot."

"How sweet," Ginny said. She looked up at James. "What did you do?"

He blinked. He widened his eyes innocently. "What? What did I do? Nothing. Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're being so sweet you're giving me cavities. What did you do?"

"Nothing! I just wanted to make it clear to you, Mum, that out of all your kids, I love you best, and I don't appreciate Albus invading my place in our family dynamic and then being rude to you on top of it."

"Your place?"

Harry thought it was fairly obvious. James looked like he felt the same way, too. But Ginny looked genuinely confused.

"Er, yeah, Mum. My spot."

"His spot as the big, pathetic Mummy's boy," Lily piped up. "Honestly, Mum, he takes that role very seriously."

"Not Mummy's boy," James argued. "Mum's boy."

"Is there…a distinction there?" Lily said.

"Yeah, of course there is," James said.

Lily waited. When James failed to say anymore, she stepped in front of Harry and jabbed James's side. "Which is?!"

The doors opened to the appropriate floor. They headed towards the Dark Magic ward.

"A Mummy's boy is a silly, spoiled kid, but Mum's boy just means I'm Mum's boy. It's different."

"You're clearly still 'my boy', James. But Albus is, too," Ginny said.

James grinned. "Yeah…but…I'm more your boy."

"Meaning?" Ginny demanded. "If you're implying I play favorites, I do no such thing!"

"Meaning I wouldn't send you away," James answered simply. He walked through the doorway. "Albus, did you know that some people have mums who don't even hug them?"

Harry stepped into the ward after James. Albus was sitting weakly on the edge of the bed.

"Okay? And? What are you talking about, James?" Albus demanded, confused. Everybody else filed in. Albus beamed. "Mum! Dad! Scorpius!"

Scorpius bounced over to him. The boys stood and just smiled dopily at each other for a moment. Lily sighed.

"Why do I even bother coming to visit when Scorpius does? Might as well be wearing the Invisibility Cloak."

"How has he been this?" Ginny asked. Harry turned and saw she was addressing her dad. Harry hadn't known he was visiting. Arthur folded up his newspaper and rose from the sofa along the far wall.

"Great!" he smiled. He frowned. He stepped in closer and lowered his voice. "A bit…surly. But great! We tried muggle crutches—I found the pair at a flea market! Luckily, there weren't any fleas on them."

Harry scanned the perimeter of the ward until he spotted the dingy pair of crutches.

"How'd they work?" Harry asked.

"Oh, awful. Just awful. I've been trying to get Albus to have another go at it, but he's refusing."

"Why not, Albus?" Scorpius asked. He stepped over to his right and grabbed the crutches from the wall. "These might be easier than a cane."

Albus eyed the crutches warily. "No. I fell last time."

Scorpius went to try the crutches himself, but being adjusted for Albus's height, there was a huge gap between the top of the crutches and his armpits. He bent over until his arms were resting on the crutches and tried to move forward, but trying to hop forward with bended knees didn't work very well. He tilted forward and landed against the side of Albus's bed. Albus stroked his back.

"See? Told you."

"You've got to practice at it," Arthur told Albus. "You nearly had it that last time."

"They hurt!"

"You've got to get used to them," Arthur countered. "Just one more go."

"No." Albus rubbed over his knees. "I hurt my knees last time."

Scorpius propped the crutches up, turned, and hopped up to sit beside Albus. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and grinned. "'You okay, Albus'," he cooed, mimicking little Albus's voice as Ginny had done earlier when they'd told Scorpius the story of the Shower Calamity. "'C'mon, you okay'."

Albus stared at Scorpius like he'd gone mad. Harry burst into laughter, followed shortly by Ginny, and finally Scorpius.

"Have you gone mad?" Albus demanded.

Scorpius was still laughing. He knocked his knee against Albus's. "'You okay, get up'."

Realization drew over Albus's features. He turned and huffed. "Mum! Stop telling people that story! I wasn't even two yet!"

Ginny approached. She patted Albus's cheek. "You okay, Albus."

Everybody was laughing now, including Albus—though he didn't look happy about it. It took encouragement (harassment) from everybody in the room, but eventually, Albus agreed to give the crutches another go. It didn't go very well. Harry had a feeling Albus would be forced to use a wheelchair tomorrow.

While Scorpius and Albus 'did homework' (something that was rapidly turning into a poorly-disguised excuse to cuddle), Harry dug Lily's essay from his bag.

"Here you go," he told her.

Lily eagerly took it. She unrolled it.

"An E?! I refute this! I deserved an O!"

"You were supposed to discuss two things you wanted to learn, not just one."

"But mine was a big one! A big thing! With many little parts to it!"

"So? Lily, you've got to follow directions. And speaking of following directions. Do you want to tell me what your mother caught you doing while you were attempting to skive off my class, or do you want me to wait and ask her?"

Lily crossed her arms. "You can ask her if you want because I wasn't doing anything wrong. She found me going to the library."

"What were you doing going to the library?" he pressed, suspicious.

"Trying to skive off class! It's honestly unfair that other people can but when I try my mother finds me and personally delivers me back to class!"

"Well," Harry said cheerfully. "Get used to it, Lulu. Because Mum and I are moving in."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "What? Moving in where?"

"Hogwarts. And guess what else? I'm your new Head of House."

Lily wasn't freaking out. In fact, she was smiling.

"Very funny, Dad," she finally said. "Ha, ha. Good one."

"I'm not joking. We're moving in tomorrow evening."

"WHAT?!"

---

"Mum, Dad, are you sure about this? Because…because there are other solutions."

James was walking backwards ahead of them down the Hogwarts' corridor, his arms laden with bags and boxes. Ginny was carrying five cats, the owl cage, and a cage full of Pygmy Puffs. Eoforwine was riding on Harry's shoulder because he was frightened of the cage and the cats. Harry wasn't sure how this was going to work.

"Like what?" Ginny challenged.

"Well…you could…er…"

"Exactly. As long as our children are getting Unforgivables used on them, and as long as our children's classmates are dabbling in Dark Magic, this is where your dad and I will be."

"But—"

"Hey, James, what happened to your role as my boy? What happened to I would never send you away?"

"…These are peculiar circumstances, Mum."

"Jamie, we're only here to protect you; we're not here to meddle. We don't care that Nora sneaks into the boys' dormitory. You're both of age. Just…respect your dormmates and do not get an early start on your eight babies goal. "

"Oh," James said brightly, relieved. "Okay, noted. And in that case: welcome home, Mum and Dad!"

Harry paused and glanced behind him to check on Albus's progress. He and Scorpius were a bit behind. Albus was walking slowly, using his cane to support most of his weight; he'd refused the wheelchair, but Harry brought it just in case. Harry watched the candlelight catch the golden cane and shook his head again, amused. He heard the cats meowing loudly as Ginny approached him.

"I still can't believe he's using that," she whispered.

"I still can't believe Draco Malfoy thought a gold cane was a casual gift."

"I think he's running out of things to do in his alchemy room. He was trying to transform nickel buttons into gold last time I was there," Ginny said. Harry snorted. "Still, it was kind of him to think of Albus. And it had to have been really difficult to make that cane. I just hope Albus isn't bullied mercilessly…"

"Don't worry," Harry told Ginny. "I brought the wheelchair and the cane St. Mungo's gave us, in case he changes his mind. But I think he genuinely likes it..."

Albus and Lily had both been begging to spend at least one night in the Room of Requirement, so James finished carrying the last of the items to the living quarters attached to Harry's office and then set off that way with the boys and Lily. Harry stepped into their new, temporary home and looked around. The sitting room and kitchen were one, large room. The kitchen was very small and only contained a cool box, a cupboard, and a wood-burning stove, though Harry guessed they had little need for a kitchen while at Hogwarts.

The sitting room portion had a small dining table (it only had two chairs—they'd have to get more), an ancient sofa covered in faded, embroidered tropical fruits, two matching side tables on either side of the sofa, and a bookshelf containing what looked like the rejects of every past DADA professor's collection. The window drapes looked like old bed hangings from the Gryffindor dorms. The carpet beneath their feet boasted an eclectic design made up of handstitched crowns and tiaras. The tops of the walls were lined with one long row of tall, golden candles, each glowing with a magically steady flame.

Harry sought out Ginny's eyes once he'd examined the room. They held their gaze for a moment.

"It's perfect," they said in unison. They grinned.

Ginny set the cats down to roam, freed the Pygmy Puffs, and let their ancient owl ('Egg', confidently named such by James aged one) out of the window to hunt. Harry levitated the boxes for the bedroom through a door beside the bookshelf.

"Yeah, this is the bedroom!" he called to Ginny. He stepped in, let the boxes fall to the floor, and then stared. "The bedroom is even weirder."

He carried Eoforwine over and set him down on one of the pillows. They'd brought their own bedding—and luckily they had; the bedding supplied was sickly-pink and velvet. The Pygmy Puff seemed to like it. Harry decided they could use it to make little nests for them and the cats. All the many…many cats. He grimaced.

The bed itself was quite smaller than he'd anticipated, but then again, their bed at home was large. The wardrobes may or may not have contained more boggarts. The dressing table mirror called out 'nice eyes, handsome' to Harry as he passed by; that would have to be moved. He didn't even want to think about some of the things it might decide to call out to them if they left it beside the bed…

But the most offensive things in the room were the matching carpet and bed hangings.

"Oh," Ginny said in surprise, stopping in the doorway. She immediately laughed. "Oh, Merlin. Are those babies on the carpet and bed hangings?"

"They certainly…certainly are."

Both the carpet and hangings donned thousands of chubby, naked babies holding handfuls of bright pink flowers. Harry was confused and mesmerized by their horridness.

"Those…have got to go," Ginny finally said, her laughter pandering off.

"I feel like they're watching us," Harry shuddered.

Ginny walked over. She tapped her wand against the hangings and murmured an incantation. Nothing happened.

"Seriously?" she muttered underneath her breath.

"Nice legs, madam," the mirror drawled.

"Thanks," Ginny said offhandedly. She paused. "Wait."

"The mirror," Harry explained.

She turned around. She leaned down and peered into the dressing table mirror.

"Oh my. My dear lady, might I suggest spotted eel oil for the lines beside your eyes?" the mirror said.

Ginny scowled.

"Yeah, that's got to go, too," she decided. "I don't even want to hear what it's got to say about my arse."

"Only good things, I'm sure," Harry said on instinct. "Did you find the bathroom? Is there a storage cupboard?"

"Bathroom is probably that door," she pointed at a narrow door beside the bedroom fireplace. "Not sure on the cupboard. I got distracted in the spare bedroom. Wait till you meet the portrait on the wall. He told me some things about myself that I never knew before."

Harry couldn't say he was particularly looking forward to that.

He went out into the sitting room to begin unpacking. Ginny gasped a moment later.

"Harry!" she called from the bedroom. "I found the bathroom!"

"Oh, good. Is it the door beside the fireplace?"

"Yes. Harry."

"What?"

"The bathtub."

A moment later, the sound of rushing water echoed out into the sitting room. Harry looked up from the opened box. Well…they'd have plenty of time to unpack tomorrow. He closed the lid back and stood up.

"Oi! Wait for me!"

"What—do you think the bathtub is going somewhere? Hurry up."

"If I catch that mirror ogling at us…" Harry eyed it suspiciously as he crossed into the bedroom. He narrowed his eyes at it as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Don't flatter yourself," the mirror said. "Your eyes aren't that nice."

"The mirror is rude and he lies," Ginny said, appearing at the bathroom doorway. She pulled Harry's cloak off as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. "Your eyes are that nice."

Harry resisted the sudden, childish urge to stick his tongue out at the mirror.

"I never lie," the mirror scoffed. "It's against my very nature."

"And he's argumentative! He's going first thing."

"Good luck," the mirror snickered. "Toad-face tried for months to get rid of me."

Harry couldn't care less what the mirror was saying. He heard it and then promptly forgot about it. There were more important things in this moment: namely, the massive, pool-like bathtub with dozens of faucets.

---

"I'm not kissing you," Harry said.

"You're being ridiculous. It's a mirror. We've pulled the hangings shut."

"No—I can't, it just feels creepy with it listening," he shuddered.

"I'm not telling you to loudly and graphically shag me, Harry! I'm only trying to kiss you goodnight."

"Nice try. We were only going to kiss each other goodnight the night we made Albus, too."

"…Okay, you've got me there." She turned over onto her side, facing the closed bed curtains. She yawned. "'Night, Harry."

Harry waited. He waited for a sneak kiss. But it never came. He opened one eye and rolled over onto his side, so he was facing Ginny's back. He stared at her form in disbelief. She was going to sleep! He had never really intended on going to sleep without a goodnight kiss. Unbelievable!

He crossed his arms and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear the faint murmurings of the portrait in the guest bedroom singing a wizard nursery rhyme. He sneaked another glance at Ginny. Had he hurt her feelings? No—she would've told him if he'd hurt her feelings. Why didn't she realize he didn't really want what he thought he wanted?

With a sigh, he scooted over, closer and closer, until the space between them was eliminated. He tucked his body around hers. And then he leaned over her and kissed the corner of her mouth.

"'Night," he finally said. He could feel the rise of her cheek as she smiled.

"Knew it. Knew you couldn't do it."

He grinned. He kissed her cheek.

"Don't get a big head."

"Mmm…I'll consider it."

She rolled over to face him. He was content to share quiet, sleepy kisses. His heart warmed to the temperature of a comforting bath. He didn't even find the creepy babies on the hangings as distracting as he'd thought he would; they quickly became part of the background. After all…every DADA professor had had to deal with them…unless the last had added them…though who would ever like something as unpleasant and sickeningly sweet as those? No one, Harry thought, except maybe—

Toad-face. Toad-face. Toad-face!

Harry jumped back from Ginny, horrified.

"No!" he shouted.

"Er…did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, Merlin…oh, God…"

"Oh 'god'?" Ginny repeated, quizzical. "Blimey, what did I do to deserve that?"

Harry rolled over onto his back. He itched at the phantom-bugs on his arms. He shuddered.

"Umbridge. Umbridge slept in this bed, Gin!"

Ginny was quiet. He glanced over at her. She was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

"Right. DADA living quarters. 'Toad-face'. Umbridge. She slept…right where…we are right now?"

"The babies, Ginny. These foul babies. Who else?"

The mirror gave a sudden cackle. "Toad-face showed me much worse things than a goodnight kiss."

The Potters shot off the bed like they'd been shocked.

"Ugh!" Ginny cried. She jumped up and down in place as if trying to shake off the creepiness. Harry dusted his pajama bottoms off as if he'd sat in dirt. Ginny reached over mid-hop and snatched up the pillow she'd brought from their house. "No. No! I'm sleeping in the bathtub!"

"Hang on, wait for me. I'll get our bedding from the box in the sitting room."

"Ugh!"