Chapter 10

Harry woke up the next morning feeling more content and rested than he had been in a long time. He luxuriated in the serene silence, feeling the rays of sunlight warming his cheek.

The previous day had been more fruitful than he could have ever expected, and meeting with George had been an added bonus. Everything that had occurred in the last year had come spilling forth from Harry with little prompting, from the Horcrux hunt to the revelations at Gringotts earlier that day. The only omission had been his status as Master of Death because … well, that wasn't the sort of thing one blurted out in casual conversation, was it? He still had numerous questions for Death regarding the whole situation, and besides, who else other than Ron and Hermione really needed to know? George had interjected the narrative with colourful comments and observations throughout, and it was with a lighter heart that Harry had returned home.

A low hoot broke him out of his thoughts. On the pillow next to his head with its leg stuck out patiently stood a barn owl. Sitting up and unrolling the parchment, he read:

.

Dear Lord Potter,

I am pleased to receive your missive, and would be agreeable to a meeting soon. If it is to your convenience, my office is available at 9 a.m. on Monday, June 8th. Laurel and Hardy Legal House is located at Number 26, Commershee Alley.

Yours sincerely,

Stan Laurel,

Legal Associate, Laurel and Hardy Legal House

.

A prompt and brief response. Well, at least there were only two days until the meeting – hopefully nothing life-altering would happen between now and then.

He grabbed a scrap of parchment from the bedside table and penned a quick affirmative. After tying it to the owl's leg, he stood up and stretched languorously. The smell of breakfast wafted into his nose – mm, pancakes. Casting Cleaning and Breath Freshening Charms in quick succession, he scratched his stomach idly and trailed down the stairs.

"Morning, Andy," he yawned as he entered the kitchen. Seeing Teddy in his crib by the table, he brightened visibly. "And good morning to you too, my little Teddy bear," he cooed, dropping a sloppy kiss on his stomach.

"Aaaa aaa," Teddy burbled happily, his amber eyes sparkling.

Andromeda placed a plate of pancakes in front of his seat. "Good morning, Harry. I didn't hear you come in last night – business went well, I presume?"

Her voice held no sign of reproof, but Harry ducked his head sheepishly. "Sorry, Andy, I should have sent a message ahead. I was with Ron and Hermione for a bit, and then with George. It turns out that matters regarding the Black Lordship were the least of my problems …" he began, explaining the eye-opening events of the previous day.

That his penchant for seeking out libraries was borne out of desperation didn't take away from the love he had for the dusty abodes of knowledge. Whether he was hiding from Dudley and his goons or searching urgently for a way to overcome dragons for the Triwizard Tournament, they had always been an invaluable and welcoming refuge.

For all its notoriety, the Black library was a truly magnificent spectacle. Contrary to the dark gloom of the rest of the manor, the room was airy and open, with tall windows lining one wall facing the morning sun. Rows upon rows of shelves were filled with books on a range of topics from housekeeping to the darkest of the Dark Arts, and in various stages of disrepair.

Harry was leafing keenly through a worn copy on the subject of British wizarding genealogy. When he had asked her what she knew about the Greengrasses' connection to the Potters, Andromeda had directed him here and suggested looking for a familial link before exploring other possibilities.

Ollivander … Parkinson … Peverell … aha, Potter! His triumph was swiftly erased at the very sobering sight. What was once a veritable legion of Potters had been decimated to the lone name in elegant print that remained at the bottom of the page: Harry James Potter. He felt a sudden and unexpected rush of gratitude to the Mirror of Erised; if not for the image that had been reflected back at him those precious few nights all those years ago, these names may very well have been the only knowledge he had of his family.

Shaking himself from his maudlin thoughts he traced back up the tree with his finger, noting the differences between the generations as he went.

It seemed that prior to his father, there were always at least two Potter scions at any one time. In fact … He paused at Charlus Potter. Next to his name was Alexandra Potter, his sister, and joined to her name was Damon Greengrass.

Suppressing the urge to whoop, Harry quickly flipped back to the Greengrass page. Finding Damon Greengrass, he followed the line down to Philander Greengrass, and further down, finally, to Daphne and Astoria Greengrass.

He stared at the names in shock.

When he had examined the Black family tree with Sirius, he had become peripherally aware that he was related to most pureblood families in one way or another. However, it had not occurred to him that he had any other close family relations except for Andy, Narcissa, and – he shuddered – Bellatrix. Yet Daphne and Astoria, two girls he had shared the halls of Hogwarts with for several years, were related to him to the same degree – though neither had betrayed a hint of familiarity. And their father, Philander Greengrass, had an even stronger tie to him, as James' cousin. True, cousins didn't always have the best of bonds – his rather precarious relationship with Dudley was a case in point – but his parents would hardly have named the Greengrasses in their will without sufficient reason, would they?

Looking back at the book, he felt a thrill of excitement. He had actual family! People who not only shared his blood but may also have been friends with his parents! As the realisation sunk in, he lurched to the nearby desk and fumbled for a piece of parchment. A quill was poised over it when it struck him that he had no idea what to write.

The giddy anticipation seeped out of him. What could he say? 'Hello Mr. Greengrass, I'm Harry Potter and by the way you are my closest wizarding relative, hope you have a nice day'?

No, a little more … finesse was required. Silently bemoaning Hermione's confinement, he began to write.

.

Dear Mr. Greengrass,

.

Ack – was he even correct in using 'Mr.'? Maybe it was supposed to be addressed to 'Lord' Greengrass instead? He groaned in dismay. Three words in, and he was already having problems.

This was going to take a while.

A foot-high book on wizarding etiquette lay open in front of him, surrounded by numerous crumpled parchments filled with frustrated scribbles. He looked down at the latest revision of his letter.

.

Dear Lord Greengrass,

You may be surprised hear from me, as we have never met, nor have we become acquainted in any other manner. Indeed, I find myself in much the same situation, as I had not ever anticipated the need of writing to you. However, at the recent reading of my parents' wills, it came to my attention that my parents held you and your wife in high regard. Curious, I not help but delve further – and in doing so I discovered that you are my late father's cousin. It came as quite a shock, naturally, as I had assumed that the Blacks and their relations were all the family I had left.

In light of this revelation, I hope you will be amenable to meeting with me sometime in the near future. Forgive my forwardness if I have presumed incorrectly.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter,

Lord Potter-Black

.

That sounded adequate, didn't it? Formal without sounding like Professor Binns' idea of a good essay.

Well, alright or not, it would have to do. Nodding decisively he rose from his chair, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders. The motion caused his joints to pop so loudly that he almost didn't notice Kreacher's appearance.

"Mistress Black wishes for Master to be ready to leave," the house elf informed him.

"Oh." Harry frowned, trying to recall anything Andy had said about going out. Surely they weren't spending another luncheon at the Malfoys? "Did she tell you why, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher is not privy to the plans of Mistress Black," he clucked disapprovingly. "Master's clothes are laid out on his bed. Would Master like Kreacher to owl his letter?"

Before he could change his mind, Harry handed the parchment over. "Yes please, Kreacher."

When he had finished changing and arrived downstairs, he found Andy humming and rocking Teddy in her arms in front of the Floo.

"Hey, Andy. What's all this about?"

She looked up at him in surprise. "Why Harry, I thought you knew. We're visiting the Weasleys, of course. Since yesterday's plans came to an unfortunate end, it becomes incumbent upon us to fulfil our commitment at the earliest convenience." With that, she firmly called out "The Burrow!" and pushed him into the fireplace.

Spat out at the other end, Harry looked up to find everyone frozen comically mid-action and staring at him. A split second of stunned silence was all the warning he had before the redheads descended upon him, their animated greetings lost in the chaos. He was crushed into several bone-breaking hugs and had his back thumped enthusiastically, not unlike the aftermath of a Gryffindor Quidditch win.

Molly Weasley's voice rang through the din. "That is quite enough, boys!" The hand ruffling his hair stilled, but someone was still relentlessly pinching his cheeks. "And girl," she added sternly. The fingers on his face retreated reluctantly.

Opening his eyes warily, he was gratified to note that everyone had taken a step back. However, the expectant gleams in their eyes were starting to make perspiration collect at the back of his head. "Er … hello?" he ventured hesitantly.

Ginny snorted. "Hello, he says, the prat."

Channelling a force that seemed unique to the female Weasleys, she placed her hands on her hips, her irate expression reminding him eerily of the time Mrs. Weasley had found Charlie sneaking dragon toenail clippings to the twins. "You have nothing else to say for yourself? After the weeks of silent treatment to your family, all you can say is 'hello'?"

As she advanced on him menacingly, his gaze darted to the fireplace. Where was Andy when he needed her?

Ginny's arm was raised threateningly, and Harry winced; it looked like he wasn't going to escape without bodily harm. However, the next instant she was in his arms, clinging to him with one octopus-like limb while prodding him insistently with the other. "You git! We haven't seen you in ages! I haven't seen you in ages. Charlie's probably the only other one who hasn't seen you since the battle – oh, don't look so innocent, George, I know you saw him yesterday. What? Now that I'm your ex-girlfriend, is our friendship no more as well?"

Harry only just heard the faint tremor in her voice. His arms tightened around her so much that he was almost carrying her. "I'm so sorry, Gin, I really am." He looked up from her hair, addressing the rest of the family. "I know I should have come earlier, if only as support. But, well, you all remember how I was after Sirius died – exploding if anyone so much as twitched. It's hardly an excuse, but I don't deal well with … well, any sort of emotional upheaval, really, and this one was … bloody hell, it was horrible."

The Weasleys remained uncharacteristically silent, eyes fixed firmly on him. Sighing, he released Ginny and wrung his fingers together nervously. "Did Ron or George not tell you what happened?"

Multiple glares in the Weasley brothers' direction was his only answer. "I guess not. Obviously, you know that R-Remus and Tonks died. And on top of that … well, the long and short of it is that when I faced Voldemort" – he rolled his eyes at the collective flinch – "in the forest, I, er … Isortofmaybedied?" The near-incomprehensible statement ended up coming out more as a weak question as he realised that this probably wasn't the best thing to say in Mrs. Weasley's hearing.

And he was right. Mrs. Weasley was in front of him so instantly that he was sure she had Apparated, her hands gripping his tightly as though reassuring herself that he wouldn't suddenly dissolve before her eyes.

A horrified whisper escaped her trembling lips. "Y– you died?"

Her expression of abject terror twisted something inside of him. He knew, of course, that the Weasleys considered him to be one of their own – how could he not when Arthur Weasley had been the one to give him The Talk (a traumatising experience Harry never spoke of again) and almost every one of the Weasley brood had called him their "little bro" at some point or other – but to see the evidence shining from the woman who had selflessly taken on the role of a mother to him for seven years was … extremely humbling, and he found himself blinking back tears.

Hugging her with all the warmth and love he felt, he injected some levity into his voice. "Only for a little while, Mrs. Weasley!" He measured out a small distance between his thumb and forefinger for emphasis. "I came back, didn't I? You're stuck with me now, I'm afraid …"

It was at precisely the moment that Mrs. Weasley had let herself be reassured of Harry's continued existence in the world of the living and began ushering them to the table that Andy made an appearance. Winking discreetly at Harry, she explained that Teddy had had to be changed out of his nappies.

Lunch at the Burrow was loud, boisterous, and full of laughter; in a nutshell, it was exactly what Harry remembered it to be, if it weren't for the missing scratches of 'Perfect Prefect Percy' on the gleaming new table, or the slight pauses after George's words as he waited unthinkingly for his sentence to be completed.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his stomach fit to burst. Snippets of conversations floated in and out of his ears, and he listened in lazy contentment.

At the other end of the table, Bill was telling a serious Percy and Andy of the problems he was having with the goblins.

"They're in a right state at the moment. Will have nothing to do with any of the wizard employees until they tighten up the security further. The hole in the ceiling of Gringotts is a stain on the pride of all the goblins – it's a wonder they're keeping the bank open while they work on it …"

Beside them, Charlie was gesturing wildly as he enacted the escapade that resulted in the latest burn he had acquired, a captivated Ginny and Ron hanging on his every word. Harry ducked as one enthusiastic hand whistled close by his ear.

George, sitting across from Harry, was listening patiently to Mrs. Weasley's concerns about his long hours, which was evidently a recurring topic.

"… come home a little earlier, dear. Why, even Ollivanders closes at nine! At least hire an assistant, George, you're looking far too peaky for my liking."

George rolled his eyes. "Mum, I hardly need another assistant when Verity's doing a perfectly good job. Lee's also been dropping by when he can, and besides," he added casually, "there's another kid that's going to be helping out in the evenings from next week."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed, her motherly senses tingling in warning. "Which poor child have you roped into your shenanigans now, George?"

He shot Harry a dirty look at his sniggering. "Just the kid that runs the junk shop by Flourish and Blotts. Y'know, that little hole where you found Auntie Muriel's birthday gift a few years ago? Bayern's Bits and Bobs, I think it's called. Anyway, he closes shop at five, and wanted some extra work. He came to me," he stressed again, making sure his mother didn't think he'd just up and kidnapped a new victim – er, employee.

Harry frowned. Bayern … where had he heard that name before?

"And his parents have approved?" Mrs. Weasley asked sceptically.

"Er, the thing is … he's an orphan, Mum. From what I gathered, he wants to earn money so he can go to Hogwarts."

"Oh!" Harry blushed under the quizzical looks he received at the sudden exclamation. "Max, isn't it? His name, I mean."

George raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"He, er, saved me from the swarming crowd that was chasing me yesterday. Showed me his shop." He didn't exactly get a grand tour of the place, but he saw a fair bit. "I apparently have the questionable skill of stepping on every uncomfortably personal issue he has," he added dolefully.

"How so?"

"Well, let's see," Harry said, ticking off on his fingers. "First, I asked him where his parents were." George winced. "Then I asked him who he was staying with. And then, if that wasn't enough, I asked him if he was coming to Hogwarts next year."

George gaped at him, before breaking out into disbelieving chuckles. "M'boy, you have talent. Even Ronniekins couldn't have done worse – or better, I should say – if he'd tried."

"Oh, the poor boy, he must be dreadfully alone," Mrs. Weasley fretted. "Bring him over when you see him next, would you dear? A nice, hot meal would do him a world of good."

"'Course, Mum," he replied. "Mind, he's a bit … prickly about being given things for free. Nearly bit my head off when I said he could take home some of the Wheezes merchandise, until I told him it was just a perk of working there."

Mrs. Weasley waved away his concerns. "You just bring the child here, I'll take care of the rest."

George raised a hand to his chest in mock-reproach. "Mum! Think of the example you're setting! Telling your innocent and virtuous son to snatch away an unsuspecting little poppet for your wicked plans! Whatever will everyone say?"

Harry coughed pointedly, grinning at Mrs. Weasley's fondly exasperated expression. 'Innocent' and 'virtuous' certainly weren't the words he, or anyone else, would use to describe a Weasley, especially this particular imp of a Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley suddenly rounded on him, and Harry leaned away unconsciously at her fierce glare. "Don't think I haven't heard how little you've been eating, young man. Skin and bones, that's all you are now. Some fattening up will do you good too."

Harry glanced around for some help. He certainly wasn't going to get it from George, who was guffawing loudly at his alarm. Thankfully, Ron came to the rescue.

"Leave off, Mum. Harry ate quite a bit today – he even had seconds, which he usually has to be forced into eating. I'm sure with a few more of your delicious meals, he'll be back to his usual midget-y stick-like form in no time."

Harry opted for the mature route and stuck out his tongue. "Like you have room to speak, you overgrown giant. Where does all that food go anyway?"

"Hey, I'm a –"

" – Growing boy, yes, we know. …"

The afternoon passed in a similar vein with much light-hearted banter and ribbing, mixed with delighted coos and hums from a cheerful, bright-eyed Teddy.

A/N: This chapter is finally up! I've had over half of it written for about a month now, but for some reason I just wasn't able to get the reunion with the Weasleys right until yesterday.

This is quite late, but my condolences to the families/others affected by the Charleston shooting - I almost cried when I read about it. It breaks my heart that this kind of thing is still happening in 2015, and nothing's being done. However, in happier news, same-sex marriage is legal in America, yay! Good job, neighbours, it's been coming for a while. I've been amusing myself reading tweets of people who apparently want to pack and move to Canada because they're offended by this, when it's been legal here for a decade now ...

Knowing that there are people interested in reading what happens next is my main motivation for writing, so thanks for the lovely reviews!