Grow Young with Me

by Taliesin19

He always sat there, just staring out the window. The nameless man with sad eyes. He bothered no one, and no one bothered him. Until now, that is. Abigail Waters knew her curiosity would one day be the death of her...but not today. Today it would give her life instead.

25. Chapter 25

"…Harry…"

"…Harry…"

…

…

…

"HARRY!"

"I'm up, I'm up," Harry said, blocking his eyes from the sudden splash of sunlight across the room.

Teddy was standing over by the window with a look of exasperation on his face. "Your alarm's been going off for ages," he said, gesturing towards it. "Didn't you hear it?"

Harry shook his head, feeling a bit disoriented. "Sorry," he said, checking the time next to him as he sat up in bed. "I slept later than usual."

"Clearly," Teddy said. "You look like death."

Harry pushed the covers off and let his feet fall to the floor. Every muscle in his body felt like lead, and as he stood up to stretch, he could hear a series of loud cracks emanating from his joints—as though he'd been sleeping for days instead of hours.

"What were you even doing?" Teddy said, looking at him with a slight grimace.

"The usual," Harry said with a shrug. "Went down to the pub…got pissed…started a few fights."

Teddy rolled his eyes before plopping down on the edge of the bed.

"Anyway…thanks for waking me," Harry said as he went to grab his things for a shower. "Now be useful and get the kids up."

"No," Teddy moaned, falling back hard against the mattress.

He let out a grunt of pain that made Harry look over. But before he could ask what was wrong, Teddy shifted to the side and removed a thick tome from underneath his back—the sight of which caused Harry to tense up at once. It had been lying open on his bed for the world to see, pages crinkled and binding worse for wear after having slept on it all night. And at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to banish it from existence.

"What's this?" Teddy said, flipping through a few pages.

Harry moved forward as the boy glanced at the front cover. "A book," he said. "Surely, you've seen one."

He went to take it from his hands, but Teddy shifted out of the way, his eyes fixated on a particular page. "It's about squibs," he said quietly.

"Yes, now give it here," Harry said.

But Teddy made no move to do so. Instead, he stared up at Harry, lips parted and an odd expression forming on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Harry said, starting to get annoyed.

"It's just…"

Harry crossed his arms, nodding for him to continue.

"I…I saw his name," Teddy said as their eyes locked. "There was a piece of parchment with Al's name on it…in a book about squibs."

A small breath escaped Harry's lips, as though something in him had deflated. "That's nothing," he said, shaking his head.

"It's not nothing. Look," Teddy said, standing up and shoving the book under Harry's nose. "You wrote it down, that's your handwriting."

"I'm aware of that," Harry said, grabbing it out of his hands and snapping it shut. "And it's just a theory. People have theories, Teddy. They entertain thoughts, they consider worst case scenarios. It's nothing."

Teddy opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut him off.

"Just let it go," he said, levelling him with a pleading look. "Just for now. Please."

His words were followed by a tense silence in which Teddy shifted his gaze and stepped away from him.

He paused for a second, though, as if trying to make a decision, and then turned back towards Harry. "I don't know if you know this, but…" Teddy said, starting off a bit hesitant. "He tells me about it a lot…about not being able to do magic. And…I don't think it's nothing."

"That's not—"

"I know that's not what you meant," Teddy said, drowning out his words. "All I'm saying is…he seems really worried about this. So maybe you could just…I dunno…comfort him? You know…instead of just ignoring it."

Harry licked his lips and nodded, staring down at the floor and trying his best to ignore the churning feeling in his gut. "Right, yeah," he said. "Thanks."

"Look, I don't mean to—"

"No, no, you're right," Harry said, giving him a quick smile. "You are so right."

He turned around to pick up his towel and change of clothes where he'd left them, but he could see Teddy staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Right, well," Teddy said. "I'll go wake the kids up, then."

"Thanks," Harry said over his shoulder.

As he heard the door close behind him, Harry let out a heavy breath and sat back on his bed.

He could feel his blood pumping in his ears as he stared at the wall opposite him, his hands absentmindedly running through his hair.

Every day, it seemed, he was uncovering more reasons to be ashamed of himself. But this was definitely an all-time low.

He resented his own godson.

Envied him.

For a split second, was even outraged by him, for knowing Albus more than he ever did.

His fourteen year old godson.

Harry reached over to pick up the book Teddy had been looking through and stared at it for a moment, his thumb brushing over the last word of the title.

Overlooked and Outnumbered: A Comprehensive Guide to Understanding Life as a Squib

He'd checked it out of the Ministry library on a whim last Friday along with several other books currently hidden beneath a floorboard under his bed. The last thing he wanted was one of the kids running around and finding them by accident. Too many questions would be raised, and he sure as hell wasn't prepared to answer any of them.

Ever since Ginny's birthday, he'd found himself obsessing over Al's magic, spending every available moment scouring his memories for some incident he may have overlooked. A misplaced toy or book being found, vegetables being banished off a plate, a favourite pair of shoes never growing too tight.

But there was nothing—not while he was scared, not while he was angry, not ever.

The fact that Al had done magic as a baby wasn't enough to ease Harry's mind, either. In fact, it only made things more complicated. There were plenty of late bloomers—the books had been adamant about that—but there were hardly any examples of children losing their magical abilities.

But then, perhaps he was just looking in the wrong spot.

The thought made him exhale loudly as he dropped his head in his hands.

He had to get through the rest of the books as soon as possible; an answer would surely pop up somewhere. He'd go through the whole damn library, if he had to. He'd talk to Hermione, he'd go to St. Mungos. He'd do anything it bloody took to figure this out, but he was not going to ignore it any longer.

He couldn't bear to let Al down again.

'Just think on it later,' a voice sounded in his mind, drowning out all other thoughts. 'Take a break and think on it later. It'll come…it always does.'

A deep sigh escaped Harry's lips as the words rang in his ears.

Even now he could picture Ginny, hands on hips and a look of exasperation on her face, standing outside his study and watching him pore obsessively over his work.

'Have a glance in the mirror while you're at it,' she'd say. 'You look a fright."

And he would.

Of course, he would.

The thought made Harry smile despite himself as he shook his head.

Taking one last glance at the book, he returned it to its hiding spot for now, feeling confident that he'd figure everything out soon enough.

When he finally got up to shower, he was relieved to find that he still had plenty of time to get ready for work—something he'd have to thank Teddy again for later.

His morning routine still progressed quickly out of habit, his mind jumping from one thought to the next as he went through things in a mechanical sort of way. But as he got out of the shower, he finally took a moment to pause in front of the mirror for the first time in what felt like weeks.

And to be perfectly honest, he did look a fright.

His hair was a mess, his beard was all patchy, and he was even more disheveled than usual. But more than anything, he just seemed…older, somehow.

So much older.

Even the few frown lines on his forehead seemed to stand out. They were barely visible, but there—etched permanently into his skin. And though he'd never given them much thought before, it was all he could do not to stare at them now.

"You look shit," he said aloud, leaning over the sink as he brushed his fingers lightly across the side of his face. "Absolute shit."

"You're not wrong there, petal," the mirror replied.

Harry rolled his eyes as he dug out his wand from the pile of dirty clothes on the floor and brought it up to his face, intent on making himself more presentable.

But even after several grooming spells and one of his more durable combs, he only just managed to receive a "that'll do" from the mirror. Nevertheless, he felt satisfied with his reflection, running a hand through his much shorter hair before stepping into his room to get dressed for work.

"All right, you lot," Harry called from the sitting room sometime later. "We've got to leave, let's go!"

The kids appeared in the kitchen doorway, dressed and ready to leave, but with a pang, Harry noticed that Teddy wasn't with them.

Vowing to speak to him later, he brushed the thought aside for now.

"All right, best be off," he said, as he gathered everyone around the fireplace. "Please don't give Nana any trouble. James…that means getting started on your summer homework, school will be here before you know it—"

"Dad."

"Lily," Harry said, turning to her. "Molly and Lucy are going to be at the Burrow today. I don't want to hear about you fighting with either of them, understood?"

Her eyebrows rose. "I love Lucy," she insisted.

"She's got her fingers crossed," Al said, pointing behind her back.

Lily scowled at him.

"I mean it, Lils, she's only a baby," Harry said, giving her a look. "Big girls don't fight with babies, do they?"

Her mouth formed into a small pout, but she shook her head, nonetheless.

"Good," he said, kissing her cheek. "Now, go on."

He watched as she walked over to the empty grate and stepped inside next to James, accepting the hand he held out for her. They both waved goodbye, then, before throwing down the floo powder and disappearing in a flash of green flames.

Al was just about to follow after them, but Harry reached out an arm to stop him.

"Hold up, mate," he said, kneeling down so they were at eye-level. "I haven't even hugged you yet, come here."

Without waiting for a response, Harry pulled the boy in for a tight embrace, pouring as much feeling into the action as he could before placing a kiss atop his head. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad," Al said, his voice slightly muffled. "But I can't breathe."

Harry let go quickly. "Sorry," he said with a small smile. "I'll, erm…see you later, then, okay? Have fun."

Al shifted his eyes to the side. "Okay," he said. "You, too, I guess."

Feeling a bit daft, Harry patted Al on the shoulder and then watched as he headed toward the fireplace.

"Bye, Alby," Harry said with a small wave as the boy flooed away.

---

As Harry walked into work that morning, he made a conscious effort to greet the people around him, even offering a few smiles along the way. He figured it was the least he could do after the mood he'd put everyone through the last few days.

Last few years, more like.

"Morning, Anna," he said, ignoring the thought.

The girl glanced up as Harry greeted her, giving him a quick smile before burying her head back into her work.

This was usually the point where he'd walk into his office and close the door behind him, but something made him pause today.

"So," he said, clutching tightly at the strap of his bag. "Did you have a good weekend?"

She lifted her head back up, staring at him with a blank expression as if she were having trouble processing his words.

"Er…yes," she blurted out just as Harry was starting to regret speaking. "Yes…it was good."

He nodded slowly, shifting his weight a bit on his feet. "That's good," he said with a small upturn of his lips.

She placed her quill back into the inkwell and folded her hands on her desk. "And you?" she said, eyebrows raised in question.

"Er…good as well, yeah."

"I'm glad," she said with a smile.

There was a small stretch of silence after that, and Harry could feel the atmosphere starting to grow awkward. He assumed he should be the one to end the conversation, but he hadn't the faintest idea of what to say.

Would a simple 'good-bye' sound too rude? Or perhaps a 'see you later'? Should he just walk away?

Maybe he was overthinking this.

"There's a…memo on your desk," Anna said, pulling him from his thoughts. "From Auror Davis. It seemed important."

Harry felt a swell of relief at her words. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Well…I should get to it, then, shouldn't I?"

He turned around and stepped inside his office before she could respond, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment.

Then with a shake of his head, he pulled himself off and went to sit at his desk.

He spotted the memo at once, flittering madly as it tried to escape from beneath a pile of intake forms. He carefully wedged it out and was just about to open it up when a loud knock sounded at his door.

"Come in," he called.

He glanced up to see Davis enter the room, a file held closely to her chest and her expression wary.

"Potter," she said by way of greeting.

"Davis," he nodded in return.

They avoided each other's eyes for a moment, both clearly sensing a bit of tension between them, but neither wanting to bring it up. Their last interaction was still fresh in Harry's mind, and he didn't think he'd be forgetting about it any time soon. It hadn't exactly been hostile—as many of their conversations were prone to be—but had been uncomfortable.

More than he cared to admit.

"Did you read my memo?" Davis said, taking a seat across from him.

Her eyes shifted to the unopened parchment in his hands and then back up to him, pursing her lips as if trying hard to restrain herself from giving a biting remark.

"I only just got in," Harry said, sitting up a little straighter. "Why don't you go ahead and summarize. Save us both some time."

She gave a small sigh but nodded. "It's the Merchant case," she said, placing the file on his desk. "And before you say anything, I know—we should stop bothering with it—"

"Yes, you should," Harry said, ignoring the weird air between them for a moment. "How many months has it been now, Davis? It's a dead-end, you lot are wasting your time."

"You think I don't know that?" she said, clearly frustrated. "I never wanted to take on this case in the first place, but you encouraged it. So right now, I want you to sit there, and I want you to listen."

Harry let out an irritated breath as he leant back in his chair.

"Right," she said, taking this as her cue to begin. "The other day I went down to St. Mungos to have a look through the family's medical records—just to see if there was any history of trauma or spell damage that could even possibly be attributed to the father."

"And?" Harry said, gesturing for her to get to the point.

"The son's file…it was huge," she said, her eyebrows raised. "There were all these descriptions of… weird experimental procedures and treatments—I'd never heard of any of them."

"Do you have a copy with you?"

"Of course," she said, handing over the file.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he opened it up, letting his eyes scan over a few pages. "Why wasn't this brought up originally?" he said, straining his eyes as he tried to read through the Healer's messy handwriting. "This kid was clearly sick with something. He could've died of natural causes."

"But it wouldn't explain the wife's death," Davis pointed out. "She was perfectly healthy."

"Still," he said, shaking his head. "This is an oversight…"

He looked back down at the page in his hands, taking a moment to read through several case notes that spanned multiple years.

"Buchanan…"

"What?" Davis said, glancing up.

"The Healer," he said, tapping the parchment. "I've heard that name before—Buchanan."

Davis frowned. "It's not that uncommon," she said.

"No, I mean…I've heard of a Healer called Buchanan," Harry said, searching the file for a first name. "Do you know which department he was in?"

She shook her head. "The records aren't even clear which ward the patient was in," she said. "It looks like he spent time on the fourth floor, but they don't label it as Spell Damage. I could just check the directory, though."

Harry scratched his jaw in thought.

He'd heard it recently, he knew that much. But from where?

Was it Hermione? Had she mentioned it? That was where he usually got his sources of information from, anyway.

"Hold on," Harry said, slamming his hand on the desk as a sudden thought popped into his head. "Of course…I'm an idiot."

"Do share," Davis said.

"Buchanan, R," he said, pointing down at the name. "His first name is Richard. I read it in a book the other day."

"Which was about what, exactly?"

"He's a healer who focuses on squib magic. Or…lack thereof," Harry said, wishing he had the book with him now. "He's done experiments in the past. Some ended pretty badly, but they didn't talk too much about it. I definitely remember him, though."

Davis furrowed her eyebrows. "So…you think the kid was a squib?" she said.

Harry stared at the wall opposite him, his thoughts running a mile a minute. "Yeah…yeah, I do."

Unable to sit still any longer, he got up to pace behind his chair, feeling the all too familiar buzz that came with solving a case.

"Just think about it," Harry said, turning to face her. "Merchant sees that his son isn't doing magic, he's worried, he's desperate. He turns to the Healers, and only one guy offers to help—maybe not the best option, but he's all they've got at this point."

"So…he tries treating him, but it doesn't work," Davis continued for him. "Then what? The dad is so ashamed of having a squib for a son that he kills him? Better motive than anything we've come up with so far, I suppose…"

"What? No," Harry said, pausing in his step. "And anyway…we're trying to prove his innocence, not figure out his motive."

"We're trying to find out the truth. Whether he's innocent or guilty makes no difference," Davis said. "A solid motive could help us settle things once and for all."

Harry shook his head as he continued pacing back and forth. "You're thinking about this all wrong," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Enlighten me, then," she said, crossing her arms. "What exactly is your brilliant idea?"

Harry abruptly sat back down in his chair, folding his hands on the desk as he leant in closer. "I don't think Merchant killed them," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "I think his son did."

The words caused her to draw back a bit.

"How could—" she said, before cutting off and shaking her head.

He waited as she took a moment to process this, her forehead creasing in thought.

"An accident?" she said with a troubled look on her face. "Some sort of…magical outburst."

Harry nodded, casting his gaze down to his tightly clasped hands. "Magic is volatile even at the best of times. Especially in children," he said, a heavy weight settling in his chest. "You shouldn't mess with stuff like that."

"Shouldn't you?" she said, causing him to look up. "I mean…wouldn't you want to do anything?"

It was Harry's turn to draw back in surprise. "No," he said, feeling insulted. "If there was even the slightest chance of a hair on his head being damaged, I would tell the healer to fuck off. Squib or not, he's still my son."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Look, that's not the point," Harry said, waving the matter away. "The point is we need proof—whether he was squib, whether he was deficient in magic in any sort of way. We can't move forward until then."

Davis sighed, bringing her fingers up to massage her temples. "That'll be difficult, though, won't it? Most families like to keep it hush-hush," she said. "There's no real way of knowing until the child doesn't get their Hogwarts letter."

"And he died before he was eleven," Harry finished for her, shutting his eyes as he leant back in his chair. "There must be another way…"

He covered his face with his hands and let out a soft groan, desperate to figure out the answer.

"Well…I suppose there is," Davis said after a few seconds of silence. "Another way, I mean. An obvious one."

"Being?" he said, looking at her.

She shifted forward in her seat, folding her arms on top of the desk. "Hogwarts letters get sent to every school-aged child in the country based on a list, right?"

"Yeah…" he said.

"Which means," she said with a smug look. "Any child not on the list is non-magical."

"But he wasn't school-aged," Harry said.

Davis gave a half-shrug. "Doesn't matter. They're written from birth," she said. "Haven't you ever heard of the Quill of Acceptance?"

Harry swallowed hard, shifting his eyes away and gazing at a spot on his desk for a moment.

"I'd just have to look his name up…" he said quietly.

"Well, I mean…I could do that," Davis said. "We can't have royalty doing peasants' work, can we?"

"No, I'll go," Harry said, ignoring her remark as he stood up and started to gather his things.

The grin slipped off Davis's face as she watched him. "Whoa, Potter," she said, straightening up in her seat. "What's the rush? We're not even done discussing this."

"What else is there to discuss?"

"A lot of things," she said, looking at him as if he were mad. "Namely…what the hell is wrong with you?"

Harry made his way around the desk and motioned for her to get up. "Nothing," he said. "I just need some fresh air, all right? I'm stuck in this office all day, and I want a change of scenery. Now go and tell Savage he's in charge until I get back."

She stared up at him with a scrutinising look, clearly not buying his excuse.

For a split second, Harry thought she might have pieced something together, but then she shook her head and stood up, as if deciding against it.

"Fine, whatever," she said. "Have fun doing whatever you're doing."

She walked towards the door and closed it behind her only for Harry to follow after a moment later, exchanging a few words with his secretary before making his way toward the lifts at the end of the corridor.

He knew there was no reason to hurry, but that didn't stop him from continuously pressing the lift button as he waited for it to arrive.

One way or the other, he'd be getting an answer today. And even though he knew there was a 50:50 chance that it wouldn't be the one he was praying for, his heart was still pounding away with anticipation.

He just couldn't believe he'd never thought of this before. It was so simple. Almost too simple. It made him wonder if there wasn't some sort of catch.

Harry brushed the thought away as he stepped into the lift. There was nothing to lose by trying. And at the very least, he'd get to visit Hogwarts. It wasn't exactly a lie when he said he needed a change of scenery.

"Hogwarts," Harry said, a sudden thought popping into his head as the golden grilles slid open to reveal the Atrium.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he stepped out into the large hall. Without wasting another second, he quickly made his way to the apparition points and disappeared out of sight.

As soon as he reappeared in his back garden, Harry made a dash into the house—going up the stairs and straight into the boys' room. He got on his hands and knees and reached for a box underneath James' bed marked 'keep out or suffer!' which held a variety of WWW products that Harry usually chose to overlook. Spotting the sweet he was looking for, he pulled it out and placed it securely in his pocket before dashing back downstairs.

---

Abby yawned, struggling to keep her eyes open as she brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

The morning rush had come and gone, and she was left with nothing better to do than look busy—a difficult task considering she'd gone through all her duties at least twice, already.

"Waters," her boss said from across the room. "Clean the machines."

They were spotless, but Abby didn't bother mentioning that.

"On it," she said, making a show of grabbing the spray bottle and a rag.

As soon as Ms. Appleton disappeared into the back room, Abby tossed both items aside and sat down at a table, resting her head against her arms.

She knew it wasn't the best idea to do so considering her eyelids were growing heavier by the second and her boss had a habit of breathing down her neck. But Christ, was she tired. Her shift had been dragging on for what seemed ages when it was only nine o' clock. And right now, all she wanted was a nap.

Just a small one.

Five minutes wouldn't kill anybody…

"Abby."

"I'm awake!" she said, standing up so quickly that she nearly stumbled over the foot of her chair.

A hand came up to steady her, and she turned to see Harry staring back at her with amusement. "Only just," he said, letting her go. "Lucky I found you."

"Yeah…yeah, lucky," she said, pressing her palms against her eyes for a moment. "What brings you here?"

Harry shrugged. "Just popping in," he said, glancing around the room.

It took a second for Abby to get her bearings straight before she focused her attention back on him. The sight that met her when she did, though, was enough to make her pause.

He looked different. She noticed that, at once.

His hair was shorter, his beard was gone, even his clothes were neater on him, somehow.

It was an only a slight change—maybe overlooked by most—but to her, it was as clear as day.

"You look…" Abby said before trailing off.

A few words came to mind—some she felt more comfortable sharing than others. "Well," she said with a small smile. "You look well."

Harry seemed confused for a moment before giving a short nod "Right," he said, gesturing towards his face. "Thanks."

She nodded in return.

"So, erm…" he said, glancing around once more. "Are you busy?"

"Do I look it?"

"Is your boss in?" he clarified.

Abby made a small noise of disgust and nodded. "She's in the back. Why?"

Harry waved her question away. "I have somewhere to go," he said, his voice lowering a bit despite the empty room. "And I'd like you to come with me."

She raised her eyebrows a bit in surprise. "Oh...erm…"

"If you wanted."

"I do," Abby said before she could stop herself. "I mean…I think I do. But I'll need more details, of course."

She didn't, really.

In fact, she'd probably go just about anywhere with Harry if he asked. But she wasn't going to admit that anytime soon.

"Right," Harry said with a nod. "Only…it's sort of a surprise."

Abby wrinkled her forehead.

"A good one," he added. "I'm sure you'll like it—in fact, I know you will."

She smiled in amusement. "Rather confident, are we?"

"You're not that hard to please," Harry said.

This was true.

Still, she pretended to consider it for at least a few seconds more before nodding her head. "Sure," she said. "When do we leave?"

"Now."

"What?" Abby said, a bit louder than she meant to. "I mean, I can't. I'm…well, I'm at work, aren't I? I thought you meant like…later, or this weekend or something."

"No, I meant now," Harry said.

She watched in confusion as he dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a sweet, holding it up between them meaningfully as if it was meant to answer everything. Before she could ask any more questions, however, the bell on the shop door chimed signaling a new customer.

Abby sighed as she saw her boss re-enter the room. With or without any customers, there was no chance she'd be allowed to leave. She didn't know what Harry was playing at.

"Eat this," he said quietly, placing the sweet in her hand. "But only the orange half."

"What—?"

"Go on," he said. "I'll explain everything later."

She looked down at it, and then back up at him, wishing just for once that he could be straightforward about something.

But there was no time to dwell on that. Ms. Appleton was approaching them wearing a familiar look of disapproval on her face, and Abby knew that she had to make a choice quickly.

"Just trust me," Harry said quietly.

She did. Probably more than she should.

So, squeezing her eyes shut, Abby braced herself and took a bite.

It was sour.

Almost uncomfortably so. And a bit difficult to chew, at that.

But that was all, really. Nothing strange, nothing magical, nothing—

"Oh…" Abby said, clutching her stomach as a sudden wave of nausea hit her out of nowhere.

She grabbed onto a nearby chair for support and looked up at Harry, breathing heavily through her nose and trying her best to keep down the contents of her stomach. "You…you…" she said, pointing a finger at him. "You little—"

But what he was, Harry never did find out, as Abby vomited rather violently on the floor that very next second.

"Waters!"

Both their heads whipped around to find Crab-apple rushing towards them.

"What is going on here?" she hissed quietly so as not to attract any attention. "You came to work to sick?"

"Ms. Appleton, I—"

But Abby's words were cut off as she vomited once more, this time falling to her knees and hunching over.

"Up. Get up," the woman said. "You're going home this instant. I can't have you spreading your germs about the place. You—get her out of here."

Abby felt rather than saw Harry carefully lift her up and manoeuvre her away from the mess on the floor. She heard him mention something about good work ethic, but the rest of his words were drowned out by a loud "Out!" that caused him to half-drag, half-carry her towards the door.

Once they were outside, Harry led her towards an alleyway near the shop where she proceeded to throw up once more before resting her head against the brick wall behind her.

"Here," he said, giving her another sweet, this time purple.

Abby felt her stomach roil at the mere sight of it. "Don't want it," she said, shoving his hand away.

"It'll make it stop," Harry said, moving it up to her mouth.

She clamped her lips shut and shook her head.

"Abby…" Harry said, speaking to her as if she were a child. "I promise you'll feel better. Just please eat it."

He looked her in the eyes, willing her to believe him, and she hated that it was so easy to give in considering what he'd just put her through.

"Fine," she said, her voice thick.

Not wasting another second, Harry took her face in one hand and popped the sweet in her mouth with the other, staring her down until she chewed every last bit of it.

"There we go..." he said, dropping his hands to her shoulders. "Feel better?"

She did. In fact, she felt better than she had all morning. But that certainly didn't mean she was going to let him off easy.

Abby wiped at her mouth, accepting the goblet of water that Harry offered her. "I do, yeah," she said, looking back at him. "But what the hell? Was that really necessary?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said at once. "Really, I am. But…I had to get you out of work, somehow."

"And this was the only way you could think to do it?" she said, placing a hand on her hip.

Harry shrugged, looking a bit helpless. "It was the first idea that came to me," he said. "It'll be worth it, though. I promise."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'll be the judge of that," she said, sounding a bit rude even to her own ears. "How are we getting there, anyway? Wherever 'there' is."

Harry cleared his throat.

"What," she said, not liking the look on his face.

"Well...the easiest way would be to apparate."

She felt her stomach protest once more. "That's the teleporting one, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"Oh, bloody hell."

He gave her a look of sympathy. "They say most people only vomit their first time," he offered.

"Just get it over with, please," Abby said, holding out her arm and shutting her eyes.

She felt Harry lock his arm around hers and then his voice close to her ear.

"I'll make it up to you," he whispered, causing an entirely different sensation in her stomach—this one not entirely unwelcome.

"I promise," he said.

And a second later, they were gone.

---

The first thing Abby noticed was the noise.

Or rather, the lack of it.

Coming from a busy London street, the silence here was almost deafening.

But as her ears adjusted to the change, she began to pick up on new sounds around her: dozens of different birds chirruping above them, the rustle of leaves on trees in the wind, even the faint sound of a stream trickling somewhere in the distance.

The temperature was different here, as well. She could feel a slightly cooler breeze sweeping through her clothes, making her wish that she was wearing more than just her thin work blouse.

But she brushed that thought aside, for now. It was hardly her main concern.

"You can open your eyes, you know.."

Abby started at the sound of Harry's voice, forgetting for a moment that he was right beside her. "Yes, I know," she said. "I was saving that bit for last."

"Of course," Harry mumbled.

She ignored him, spending a few more seconds with the rest of her senses before taking a deep breath and opening her eyes.

"Do you know where we are?" Harry said, watching her as she observed the scene around them.

"Er...the countryside?" she said, seeing rolling green hills in the distance.

"Which country?" he said.

Abby turned towards him in confusion. "We're not in England?"

He shook his head. "More north."

"Iceland?" she said, eyes wide.

Harry chuckled. "Back up a bit," he said.

Realisation struck her then, and she felt her heartbeat quicken in excitement. "Scotland…" she breathed, her mind working a mile a minute, now. "You went to boarding school in Scotland."

He gave a short nod. "I believe I did, yeah," he said.

"So...that means we're gonna see it," she said slowly, trying to gauge his reaction. "Like...your proper wizard school. Where you learned actual magic. That's the surprise?"

Harry stared at her for what seemed an age before his face split into a wide grin, causing her to nearly squeal in response.

She threw her arms around him and hugged tighter than she'd ever done before. "You were right. You were so, so right," she said, voice muffled by his shirt. "It was all worth it, everything. I'm sorry I ever doubted you, you're amazing!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Harry said, sounding amused. "Let's actually get there first, and then you can decide how amazing I am."

"Right," Abby said, letting go at once. "Lead the way."

Harry took his wand out and held out a hand to stop her. "I, er...have to do something before we go," he said.

Abby paused, staring at his wand and then back up at him. "What?"

"Nothing bad," he said, sensing her anxiety. "Just a change of clothes. You know...to fit in better."

Before she could say another word, Harry pointed his wand at her, his face set in deep concentration as he moved his arm in a complicated gesture that she assumed took a lot of skill to master.

"There," he said once he was done. "That'll do."

Abby looked down at herself and frowned. "Blimey," she said, smoothing her hands over the thick black fabric that reached all the way down to her feet. "Bit like the books, isn't it?"

"Books?" Harry said, transforming his clothes as well.

"About sorcerers and magic and things," Abby said. "They wore those robes. You know…like Merlin?"

Harry nodded in understanding. "You'd be surprised how accurate some of that stuff is," he said, pocketing his wand. "Even Merlin."

Abby gave him a sceptical look. "He was real?"

"Mhm."

"You're having me on."

"I'm not," Harry said with a pleased look. "Went to this school, even."

"Oh, shut up," she said.

"It's true!"

"Yeah, and you two shared a dormitory, as well, did you?"

Harry let out a small laugh and shook his head. "Come on," he said, gesturing for her to follow him. "See Hogwarts for yourself, then you can be the judge."

"Gladly," she said with a smile.

They walked in silence for a bit after that, and Abby was beginning to miss the clothes she'd been wearing when they'd arrived. The mid-morning sun was beating down against their backs with the black of their robes absorbing the heat fully. She couldn't imagine having to wear these things in the height of a London summer.

"Why couldn't we just teleport into the school?" she said.

"Apparate," Harry corrected. "And you can't. The school grounds are blocked off."

That made sense, she supposed.

"Anyway, we're nearly at the gate," he said. "It's just up there."

Abby glanced over to where he'd pointed, squinting her eyes from the sun. "I don't see anything," she said.

"Just follow me," Harry said.

They made their way over to what looked like an ancient stone archway—overrun by vines, and chipped and cracked in several places. It seemed like it could fall apart at any second, and Abby was surprised when they stopped in front of it.

"What are we—?"

"You'll see," Harry said, leading her through the archway.

They continued walking for a bit, the sight of a stone building coming into focus as they passed over a small hill.

'Building' was perhaps too generous a word. It was more like a ruin, decrepit and old, weathered by years of sun and storm, and looking even more worse for wear than the archway they'd just passed through.

"Erm," Abby said, feeling very lost now.

Surely, this wasn't…

"How bad does it look?" Harry said.

Abby glanced up at him. "What do you mean?" she said. "Can't you see it?"

Harry shook his head, a strange expression on his face. "It looks different to muggles."

She felt her shoulders sag a bit at his words. "Oh," she said. "Then...what's the point in—"

"Give me your hand," Harry said.

"Why?"

"Just...do it," he said, looking her in the eye.

Abby sighed, feeling a bit frustrated but bringing her hand up to his, nevertheless. He squeezed it gently before leading her towards the building.

"We're walking toward the front doors," Harry said, moving slowly as if leading somebody blind. "They're huge, taller than both of us. With big fancy knockers. And we're standing right in front of them."

She followed his line of sight, trying hard to imagine the picture he was describing. Was this what he planned on doing the rest of the time? Explaining everything he saw to her?

"I'm going to knock now," Harry said. "And the door will open."

Abby nodded for lack of anything better to say, her initial excitement slipping away fast. She knew it would be difficult for Harry to show her certain aspects of his world. There were laws, things were hidden, everything was secret. But for a moment, she really thought this might be an exception. Because why on earth would he bother bringing her here if—

"Whoa," she breathed, her thoughts coming to an abrupt halt.

True to Harry's words, the front doors had opened. But as soon as they did, the entire world around her seemed to become distorted for a moment. Two images blurred into one. Or perhaps hundreds or thousands or maybe none at all. She was struggling to get her eyes to focus as everything was moving, changing, and all of it, all at once was starting to make her head spin.

"Abby," came Harry's voice, sounding far away. "Look at me. Look at my face."

She felt his hands on her shoulders, and she struggled for a moment to meet his eyes. But when she finally managed it, she was relieved to find him staring back at her—clear, whole, and intact.

"Are you okay? Can you see me?"

Abby blinked a few times and nodded, staring at him as though he were an anchor that would keep her from slipping away.

Harry smiled and let go of her shoulders. "Good," he said, straightening back up. "Then...go on. Have a look around."

"What?" Abby said, feeling a bit disoriented.

He took her arm and led her a few steps back with him. "Have a look around," he said again, gesturing in front of him for emphasis.

Abby's eyes slowly traveled upward, and she froze.

They were standing in front of a large castle, the biggest she'd ever seen, and she had to take several more steps back to view it in its entirety.

"How...?" she said, her voice practically hysterical as her eyes roved over the endless turrets and towers and back down to the large oak front doors. "There was—it was just—"

"Magic," Harry said, answering for her. "There're charms to prevent muggles from finding their way in—to keep it a secret. But they break down as soon as the doors open for you."

Abby glanced over at him, completely at a loss for words, before looking back up at the castle. "And why did they open for me?"

"I knocked," Harry said simply.

It didn't seem like the most foolproof security measure, but she assumed there was much more to it than Harry was letting on.

"Beautiful, isn't it, though?" he said, walking up beside her. "Hogwarts."

She nodded, turning her head to observe the grounds, as well. "Incredible," she said, squinting her eyes at what looked like a large stadium in the distance with three giant hoops on either end. "What's over—"

"Do you want to go inside?" Harry asked, stepping in front of her. "I can show you around."

And all at once, Abby felt her excitement coming back full force. "After you," she said, giving him the brightest smile she could manage. "Are you going to give me a tour? Show me your classes? Your dormitory? Your favourite snogging spots?"

"All that and more," Harry said with a grin as he led her through the front doors and into the entrance hall. "But first...I have to take care of something."

---

"All right," Harry said in a quiet voice as they stood in the corridor that led up to the Headmistress's office. "Here's the story: You're a witch. You never went to Hogwarts. You're training to be an Auror."

"A who?"

"Shit," Harry said, shutting his eyes for a moment. "I forgot I never told you."

"Told me what?"

Harry glanced up at the walls as is if they were listening in before looking back at her. "What I do for a living," he said, giving her a meaningful look.

Abby raised her eyebrows.

"I'm an Auror," he said again. "It's like a...a sort of...detective inspector who fights crime. Serious crime. The darkest of wizards."

Her lips parted as she stared at him, a hundred different questions threatening to spill out of her mouth at once.

"Look, I promise I'll explain more later," Harry said as if reading her mind. "But right now, you just need to know the basics."

"Right, yeah," Abby said, snapping out of her reverie. "So I'm in training..."

Harry nodded. "You went to school in France, a place called Beauxbatons," he said. "I doubt she'll ask more questions, but if she does, just let me answer."

Abby tutted softly. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms. "But I can totally think on my feet. I took an improv class a few years ago."

He gave her a doubtful look, but didn't say anything more as he led her up a spiral staircase and to the door of the headmistress's office.

"Is she usually in during the summer holidays?" Abby said, glancing up at him.

"Should be. It's nearly the beginning of term."

Abby nodded as he brought his hand up to knock on the door, but then looked back up at him with a smirk. "Did you used to come here often when you were a student?" she said. "Or were you one of those goody-goodies?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her but didn't have a chance to respond as the door opened a moment later, seemingly of its own accord.

"Mr. Potter," said a voice as they entered.

Abby turned towards it, the smile on her face slowly slipping away as she gazed at the woman behind the desk: tall, with black hair tied back in a bun and a large witches' hat resting atop her head, wearing beautiful, embroidered green robes with long, flowing bell sleeves. She was a picture of elegance—like something out of a fairytale.

And for the first time, Abby truly felt like she was in the presence of someone magical.

"Whoa," she breathed.

"Professor," Harry said, walking over to shake her hand.

"It's good to see you," the woman said, gesturing for them both to sit down. "I'd heard word from the portraits that it was you at the door, but I thought, surely, they must be delusional."

Harry let out a polite laugh that made Abby stare at him out of the corner of her eye.

"And who is this?"

Abby turned her head in the woman's direction upon being addressed. "Abigail Waters," she said with a smile, extending a hand towards her.

"Auror trainee," Harry added. "Never been to Hogwarts. Thought I'd show her around a bit while I'm here."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "English?"

"Yes, but—"

"She went to Beauxbatons," Harry said. "Moved back to England recently after being accepted into our program."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, staring at him over her glasses. "Am I wrong in assuming the young woman has a voice?"

Harry cleared his throat, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. And Abby had to struggle hard to keep her face straight.

"Erm," she said turning back to the headmistress. "Everything he said, basically. I'm...very excited to see Hogwarts. I've heard wonderful things about it."

"Of course you have," McGonagall said, folding her hands atop the desk. "We're the finest wizarding institution in the world."

Abby frowned, wondering if that was supposed to be a dig at her own school before realising that she was getting too in-character.

"But that's hardly the point," the woman said, before turning to Harry once more. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Potter? I assume you're not just here to have a natter over tea."

"Er, no," Harry said, shifting forward in his seat. "It's actually about a case. I can't share the details, but I'll need to have a look at the Magical Quill. Or...more specifically, the list of names the Quill's written down over the years"

McGonagall stared at him for a moment, her eyes shifting across his face as though studying him. "How many years back, exactly?"

"Not sure," Harry said, jaw tensing in a way that Abby knew meant he was uncomfortable.

Why, she had no idea. It seemed like he had a rather important job that allowed him access to all sorts of information if he just asked. More than that, he appeared to have a pretty good relationship with McGonagall—a fact that was strange enough to Abby as she doubted many of her old teachers even remembered her.

"Well," McGonagall said, "students born in the last fifty years should be in the current volume, but if you need to go further back, we can manage it."

Harry straightened up, his jaw relaxing at once. "No, that should do," he said, giving her a quick smile. "If you could just lead the way."

The woman bowed her head slightly before opening one of her desk drawers and pulling out an old-fashioned key. She then stood up and walked around her desk toward the door.

"It was lovely seeing you, Harry. Do try and visit more often," said a sleepy voice from somewhere above them.

Abby's head shot up, her eyes shifting around to try and find where it came from.

"I will, Professor," said Harry with a smile. "It's good to see you, too."

She followed Harry's gaze to one of the large portraits hanging on the wall where an old man with long white hair and a long white beard was staring down at the both of them.

Literally staring.

"Bloody hell," Abby whispered under her breath.

McGonagall's words from earlier suddenly came back to her then, making much more sense than they did before.

"I'd heard word from the portraits that it was you at the door."

She stored that information away to ask about later as she quickly followed behind Harry and McGonagall down the spiral staircase.

As they continued walking throughout the castle, Abby was finding it difficult to keep up with the pair of them as she couldn't help but stop every few feet to take in the sights around her: suits of armour, floating candles, moving staircases. She could have sworn she'd even seen a ghost at one point. And whatever doubts she had about the portraits before, were now completely dispelled as she observed several of them along the way—talking, laughing, staring, pointing. She thought she'd heard a few say Harry's name, even. But how they could possibly remember him after all these years was beyond her.

Perhaps he visited often?

But even then, the way they stared...it was as if they were so pleased to see him. So honoured.

It was odd.

"I've never been to this part of the castle before," came Harry's voice ahead of her.

"I doubt any student has," McGonagall replied. "The tower is locked, and no spell can undo it."

Abby and Harry watched as McGonagall pulled out the key from deep within her robe pocket once they reached the double doors at the end of the corridor.

As she unlocked them, they opened to reveal another set of spiral stairs, these reaching even higher than the ones outside the Headmistress's office. The prospect of having to climb all the way to the top was a bit daunting, to say the least. But Abby followed after them without a word, doing her best to keep up.

"God, no wonder you're so skinny," she whispered to Harry about halfway up the stairs. "This is bloody torture."

He looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrow raised. "I'm not skinny, I'm lean."

Abby rolled her eyes.

She didn't even have the energy to make fun of him right now.

"Just tell me we're almost there," she said, refusing to look up.

"We're almost there."

What seemed an hour later, but was perhaps only about two minutes, they finally reached the landing.

Abby had to take a moment to rest on a nearby windowsill, staring in wonder at McGonagall who looked about a hundred years old, yet didn't seem bothered in the slightest by their climb.

"Beauxbatons is quite smaller than Hogwarts," McGonagall said, causing Harry to cough loudly in order to cover his laugh.

"Right," Abby said brushing her hands on her lap and standing back up. "Shall we carry on, then?"

"It's just through this door," McGonagall said, gesturing towards it. "Take as long as you need, I'll wait outside for you."

Harry thanked her before pushing the ancient wooden door open, a cloud of dust particles swirling in the light at the movement.

The room they stepped into was smaller than Abby had expected. There were large windows all around that flooded every inch with sunlight, making it rather warm and stuffy inside. And it was empty—save for a single desk in the middle upon which a thick book lay open. Beside the book was a beautiful, golden quill that floated above an inkwell, vibrating slightly and giving off an almost ethereal glow.

Harry made his way over to it, at once.

Abby watched him, unsure what the purpose of this book was or why he looked so keen to read it. She could hear him mumbling something as he rifled through several pages, pausing on a few here and there before seeming to find the right one.

"Merchant…" he said quietly, his finger running down the page and back up again. "Tyler Merchant..."

After a moment, he shook his head and straightened back up. "Nothing," he said to himself.

He then took out his wand and pointed it at the book, making what Abby assumed was a copy of the page and stuffing it into his pocket.

She was about to step forward, thinking he was finished, when he paused.

He leant over the desk as though bracing himself, his shoulders moving up and down as he took in a few slow breaths.

Abby wanted to ask if he was okay, but something stopped her. The air in the room seemed to grow tense all of a sudden. Electric, almost. And as she watched Harry, she could see that he was focusing deeply on something, completely lost in his own world.

He then picked his head up and moved toward the book once more, this time going through the pages in a much slower, more deliberate manner.

"Please," he whispered to himself, before staring down at the page he'd stopped on with an intense expression on his face.

And for a moment, everything was silent.

Abby held her breath, not knowing what she was waiting for, but waiting, nonetheless. And then:

"No," came Harry's voice.

He shook his head, stepping back from the book as though it had burnt him.

"No, no, no, no, no," he repeated, his hand digging into his hair as he started pacing back and forth.

"Harry?" she said.

"This can't be right," he said, pausing in his step. "It can't be."

He turned to look at her as though she could provide him with an answer, but Abby just stared back helplessly.

"It's not bloody right," he said, his voice almost desperate now as he searched through the book once more.

Letting out a sound of frustration, he slammed his fist down on the desk hard, making the inkwell rattle.

Abby was at a loss for what to do. She wanted to go to him, comfort him about whatever was upsetting him. But he'd resumed his pacing, once more, looking almost frantic, now. And before she could decide anything, a new voice broke through the silence, causing her to spin around, at once.

"Indeed," said McGonagall.

The older woman was standing in the doorway staring at Harry, a small frown on her face.

"It's not right...but it's not wrong, either," she said, stepping into the room. "The Quill is constantly in flux. Things can change day to day until the very last second before letters are sent out."

Harry stared at her, his lips parted.

"And that," McGonagall said, closing the book for him, "is why we never let parents have a preview."

Abby noticed an uncomfortable look pass over Harry's face at her words.

"How did you know?" he said, his voice quiet.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. "Since when does the Head Auror travel all the way to Hogwarts to do a trainee's job?"

"We don't allow trainees to gather evidence without supervision."

"Don't be smart with me, Potter," McGonagall said. "I'm not a fool."

Harry shifted his eyes away from her. "Sorry," he said, looking rather tired all of a sudden. "I just...had to know."

McGonagall gazed at him, her lips pursed into a thin line.

"I caution you, Harry," she said, using his name for the first time, "not to fret so much over the future that you forget to heed the present. It is one of life's greatest deceptions."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He looked as though he wanted to say something to her, but was at a loss for the proper words. And before he could manage anything, McGonagall had stepped away—giving one final nod to Abby and walking back out the door.

The room was quiet for a moment after she left, Abby not daring to speak. She wanted to ask Harry what was wrong, but it just seemed too sensitive an issue.

"Are you okay?" she said finally.

He breathed out heavily and nodded. "I'll be fine," he said, pocketing his wand. "Let's just get out of here."

All too happy to leave the stuffy room, Abby followed him out the door and back down the spiral staircase.

Once they stepped into the corridor, Harry walked quickly as though with a purpose. Abby could tell he was still bothered, but she wasn't sure if she should attempt to broach the subject with him yet.

A small, much more selfish part of her was a bit disappointed that the pleasant mood they'd started the day with was now gone. She'd been so excited to experience the magic of Hogwarts—long corridors and endless staircases wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

But she quickly dispelled the thought. Whatever Harry was dealing with right now was clearly more important.

"Harry," she said, quickening her pace to catch up to him. "Harry, wait."

He paused in his step at once, nearly causing Abby to walk right into him.

"Look," he said, turning to her. "I'm sorry, I just...I need some fresh air, right now, okay?"

She nodded in earnest. "Of course," she said. "I was only wondering where we were going."

He stared at something behind her. "We're nearly there," he said in response.

Where 'there' was, Abby didn't bother to ask. But it was only one more corridor down when they reached what looked like the entrance to another tower. This one even taller than the last.

Harry then led the way up a new set of stairs, through two sets of doors, to a large balcony surrounded by a parapet. And the view that met Abby's eyes when she set foot outside after him was worth every step it took to get there.

From where they were standing, she could see everything.

The large, gated entrance to the grounds; an endless, dense forest with a small hut sitting just at the edge; a huge willow tree that seemed to vibrate in the soft wind. And in the distance, once more, the vast green pitch with tall hoops at either end.

Abby looked over at Harry who was also gazing at the scene before them. His eyes, though, seemed unfocused, as if he were thinking very deeply about something.

"That book," she said carefully, knowing she shouldn't pry, but unable to help herself. "Does it have something to do with your children?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, a light breeze ruffling through his hair as he leant against the edge of the balcony.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "It shows the list of kids who'll be attending Hogwarts. Names are written down from birth."

She frowned. "Is it a selective process, then?" she said. "Do some not make the list?"

Harry let out a humourless chuckle. "You could say that," he said.

Holding back her exasperation at his vague responses, Abby continued to prod him. "And why wouldn't they?" she said slowly.

He clicked his tongue and turned his head toward her for the first time. "Why do you think?" he said, his tone a bit harsh. "Use your head, Abby. Hogwarts is a school of magic. For magical children. Do I really need to explain everything to you?"

Abby drew back from him in surprise. "What's the matter with you?" she said.

He tensed his jaw and looked away.

"Don't give me that," she said, all her grievances since that morning coming back to her full force. "You've been unclear with me all day. You dragged me from work, made me puke my guts out, led me around every inch of this never-ending school, and for what? I didn't ask to be here, Harry. You brought me!"

"I know, okay! I know!" Harry said, his voice drowning hers out.

He let out a loud grunt of frustration as he dropped his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said through gritted teeth. "I didn't plan for this to happen. I wasn't—I didn't think—"

"What?" Abby said.

Harry sighed deeply as he lifted his head back up and stared at some point in the distance. It took him a moment to respond, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words aloud.

"Albus's name wasn't there," he said, his voice thick. "Which means that, currently...he doesn't have magic. That he may never have magic."

He paused for a second, his eyes a bit red as he met her gaze. "And I don't know what to do," he said, shaking his head.

Abby watched as he sat heavily down on the ground, one elbow propped up on his knee as he massaged his forehead.

Her hands itched to comfort him in some way, but she settled them in her lap, instead, sitting down across from him.

"Does that mean," she started quietly. "Is he not a wizard, then?"

"I don't know," Harry said.

"Is there any way to find out?"

"Not really," he said. "Not till he's eleven. If he doesn't get his acceptance letter, then..."

Abby cast her eyes down to her lap and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said.

Her words were met with silence.

If she were being honest with herself, she couldn't entirely grasp the situation. It was understandable that Harry would be upset, of course. But the way he looked...it was as though someone had just died.

As far as she knew, Albus was still a very healthy little boy. Sure, he didn't have magic right now. But who was to say that wouldn't change?

And even if it didn't change...would that be so horrible? So unthinkable? So tragic?

Most of the world lived everyday without magic...

Abby's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt though, when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry bring a hand up to wipe at his face.

"Sorry," he said in a gravelly voice, as they made eye contact.

She shook her head. "Don't be," she said, trying her best to hide her shock as she placed a hand on his knee in comfort.

It was strange, Abby thought. Seeing Harry so...vulnerable. He always had such a rough exterior. Such a strong, almost formidable presence. Sure, she witnessed glimmers of pain and sadness every now and then, but never like this. The stark contrast of it all made her heart ache for him. Not because he was breaking down in front of her, but because it had taken him so long to do so.

Moving to his side, she sat shoulder to shoulder with him and took one of his hands in hers. "It hurts," she said softly.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"When's it going to stop?" he said.

Abby didn't respond. She didn't think she was meant to.

"It's one thing after the other...It's always one thing after the other," he said, his voice flat. "And I'm tired."

She pressed her lips together, struggling to keep her own tears at bay now.

"I'm really tired," he said, resting his head against the wall behind him.

"It could change though, couldn't it?" Abby said, trying hard to inject some hope into the situation. "That's what the headmistress said."

"Yeah, but what if it doesn't?"

"But what if it does," she said with more force. "Harry...Harry, look at me."

He rolled his head towards her.

"What she said before she left, it's true," Abby said. "You can't live your life constantly stressing over the future. There's nothing to gain by it, and everything to lose."

"It's not that easy," he said.

"Well, of course it's not!" she said. "It's bloody hard. But you have to try."

He dug his hands in his hair and let out a long sigh. "But I promised him," he said with great effort. "I told him he was a wizard. I promised him that."

Abby felt her shoulders deflate at his words. "Then worst comes to worst, he'll forgive you," she said, leaning in so she could look at his face. "Just be there for him now. Show him how much you love him, listen to him when he's upset, just be a dad, Harry."

She squeezed his hand in hers. "That's all you have power over, I'm afraid," she said, giving him a sad smile. "But it's a lot of power."

Harry glanced down at their hands for a moment, his gaze unfocused as though mulling her words over.

"What is it?" Abby said quietly when he looked back up at her, eyes travelling across her face.

He shrugged. "You're not bad at this," he said.

"At what?"

"Saying the right thing."

Abby had to chuckle. "Well," she said. "It was bound to happen sometime."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything more on the subject. "I'm sorry about today," he said, instead, staring down at the ground. "It wasn't supposed to go like this."

She squeezed his hand once more. "I know," she said. "But it was much more important."

He nodded slowly.

"How are you feeling?" she said.

Harry ran hands across his face. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should stop worrying and just...focus on being a better dad."

"That's not what I—"

"I know," he said before she could finish. "But it's true...There's so much I haven't noticed. So many things I've ignored."

Abby gave him gentle smile. "Well, you're noticing now."

Harry turned to look at her, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed. "Yeah," he said, his eyes flitting over her face for a moment. "Yeah, I am."

She felt her heartbeat quicken at the intensity of his gaze and had to look away before she did something stupid. If Harry thought it an odd movement, he didn't say anything.

"Come on," he said instead, standing up. "That's enough of your day I've wasted."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

"I promised I'd show you Hogwarts, so that's what I'm going to do," he said, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. "Now, what do you want to see first?"

Abby could tell the sentiment was a bit forced, but she still appreciated it, nonetheless.

Trying hard to concentrate as his thumb brushed over her knuckle, she glanced around her, taking in the view of the grounds once more. "What's that over there?" she said, gesturing toward the large pitch she'd seen earlier.

Harry followed her line of sight, an odd expression forming on his face. "Oh," he said, letting go of her hand. "It's, er...it's a Quidditch pitch."

Abby raised an eyebrow at him. "Some kind of sport?" she said.

He nodded.

"Well...can we go see it?"

Harry licked his lips and then glanced back at her, that same intense look in his eyes. "Erm...yeah," he said, his forehead creased. "Yeah, fine."

She frowned, not sure if she'd imagined the slight change in his demeanour.

As they walked through the castle and onto the grounds, no words were exchanged between them, creating a heavy sort of silence. Abby knew at that point that something was off and guessed that it had to do with Al. But the abruptness of Harry's behavior still left her confused. And when they'd reached the entrance to the pitch, he'd just stood there, not saying a word.

"Are we allowed in?" Abby said, wondering if there was some sort of security measure in place.

He nodded.

"Okay," she said, shifting her eyes to the side.

"Can you, erm…" Harry said suddenly, causing her to snap her head towards him. "Can you just give me a second?"

She raised her eyebrows, the tone of his voice surprising her. "Sure, yeah," she said with a nod.

He took in a few deep breaths, his chest and shoulders visibly moving as he did so. It was as though he were gathering himself up for something.

Abby wondered briefly if he'd had some sort of bad experience here in the past. And if so, why on earth he'd agreed to come.

She was just about to suggest they leave when he turned towards her, his face quite pale and a thin sheen of sweat at his forehead.

"After you, then," he said.

She looked at him in disbelief. "Harry," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "We don't have to do this."

"Why wouldn't we?" he said.

"Because," she said as if it were obvious. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

He paused, his lips parting as he glanced back at the pitch. "That's one way to put it," he muttered.

Abby felt utterly bewildered at this point. But without another word, Harry led the way onto the pitch, leaving her with no choice but to follow. She was momentarily distracted from the issue, however, as she took in her surroundings, her head turning in every direction. It was like a football pitch but much, much larger. The hoops at either end of the field were even taller up close, and the stands reached high up into the air at about the same height.

"What did you say it was called?" Abby said, over her shoulder.

"Quidditch."

A small smile came to her lips. "You lot and your names," she said, shaking her head. "First Hogwarts and now this."

Harry didn't reply.

She turned to look him and saw him staring up at one of the hoops.

"Is that where you score the goals?" she said, walking up to him.

He nodded.

"How exactly?" she said. "I mean, do you shoot something up there? They're rather high."

Harry cleared his throat. "No," he said. "You play on broomsticks."

Abby was sure her eyes went as wide as saucers. "You mean—all the way up—" she said, gesturing to the sky. "On broomsticks?"

He nodded again.

"Well, Christ," she whispered, bending her neck back to take a better look.

"It's like football. Except...not really," Harry said quietly. "It's better."

She glanced back at him, surprised by the feeling behind his words. With the way he'd been acting since they'd got there, she would've thought he wanted nothing to do with the sport.

Perhaps she'd been mistaken.

"You used to play?" she said.

"Mmm."

"But not anymore?"

He shook his head.

Abby stared at him as his eyes travelled across the length of the pitch. "Why'd you stop?" she said.

He gave a dry sort of smile. "That's the question, isn't it?"

She wanted to say that, yes, obviously, that was the question, but she held back. Something in her could see that he wanted to explain, but perhaps, just couldn't find the words.

"I haven't set foot on a Quidditch pitch in three and a half years," he said, after a small bout of silence.

The number immediately rang a bell in Abby's mind.

"Your wife," she said as she recalled Harry's drunk phone call from the other night. "But what does she have to do with…"

"She used to play professionally," he said.

Realisation dawned on Abby, at once.

Setting aside the fact that there were professional Quidditch teams, she placed a hand in his, giving him a look of sympathy. "It's not the same being here without her," she said.

Harry gave a quick upturn of his lips and glanced down at the ground. "I wish it were that simple," he said.

She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Maybe then life would be..." he said, hesitating for a moment. "Well...not easier, exactly, but...clearer, I suppose."

Abby met his words with silence, unsure of how to respond.

"I'm not making sense, I know," Harry said without looking at her.

"How did Ginny…" she began carefully, not knowing how best to phrase it.

"Die?" he finished for her.

She nodded once more.

Harry seemed very interested in his shoes as he kicked a few pebbles away from the edge of the grass. "It was an accident."

The words caused Abby's stomach to twist uncomfortably.

"She was playing a match," he said. "Got hit in the head, broom malfunctioned."

His voice was monotone as he explained, as though he were simply reading from a textbook.

"We were all there," he added quietly.

Abby shut her eyes. "God, Harry, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He didn't respond at first, still gazing intently at the ground.

"The thing she loved the most," he said after a moment, lifting his head back up. "That's what killed her."

Abby stared at him, noting the sudden weariness in his posture.

"You loved it, too," she said.

He gave a small nod. "I did," he said. "I still…"

He couldn't seem to bring himself to say it.

"You still do," Abby said.

Harry let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his face. "I wish I didn't," he said, dropping his hands back to his sides. "I wish James didn't want to learn how to fly...I wish I didn't want to teach him."

Abby placed a hand on his back, rubbing gently up and down as she leant into him.

She wanted desperately to provide some words of comfort. But she was at a loss for what to say. She just couldn't imagine what it would feel like for something that once caused so much joy to bring so much pain.

It was cruel.

"Would you do it?" Harry said suddenly, breaking her out of her reverie. "If you were me...would you ever go near a broom again?"

Abby opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. "I…" she said

"Just tell me the truth," he said.

"I don't know," she said, giving him an apologetic look.

He licked his lips and nodded.

"I mean...I know this is completely different to your situation," she said before she could stop herself. "But...when my mum died...it was hard for me to even look at a piano for a long time."

Harry's face softened a bit at her words.

"Just the memory of her, you know?" Abby said with a small frown. "All those moments we shared, sitting on that bench together. It was almost unbearable."

She paused for a moment and glanced down, swallowing hard.

"And then one day...I don't know, I just—did it," she said with a shrug. "I sat down and played for the first time in a year. And—I broke down, of course—but...it just felt so unbelievably good."

Harry stared at her intently, as though hanging on her every word.

"It was like I could feel her with me again," Abby said, a small lump rising in her throat. "As if I were breathing life into her..."

"And every moment since then, it's been the same," she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into a half-smile. "Music...it's the only real thing that connects us anymore."

A small breath escaped Harry's lips, and he seemed to be contemplating her words for a moment.

"I want that," he said finally, his voice a bit rough.

Abby gazed into his eyes and nodded. "Then you should do it."

---

The walk down the field was a quiet one.

Abby could practically feel the tension radiating off Harry, and she just hoped that she was helping him make the right decision.

"The brooms here are terrible compared to my old one," Harry said, breaking the silence for the first time. "But they'll do."

"Are they safe?" she said, looking up at him.

He nodded.

They reached a large shed, and Harry pulled his wand out to unlock it.

Inside were dozens of broomsticks ranging in size, colour, and style. And absolutely none of them looked like they'd be of any use for sweeping.

Abby had to quell her excitement at the thought of riding one as she watched Harry inspect them all. What he was looking for, she wasn't sure. But by the way he handled them, she could tell he was experienced at this sort of thing.

When he finally settled on one, he led the way back onto the pitch.

He took out his wand again and pointed it at himself, transforming his robes into a white shirt and jeans, and then doing the same for her.

"Easier to fly this way," he said.

Abby's heart skipped a beat.

Did that mean she'd be flying too?

"Right," Harry said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "I can't believe I'm going to do this."

She offered him an encouraging smile. "The first time's the hardest," she said as she watched him run his fingers across the handle. "But it gets easier."

"You sure about that?" he said, looking up at her.

"No."

A smile stretched across his face, but she could tell by the way that he kept wiping his hands on his jeans that he was nervous.

"Right," he said again as he straddled the broomstick. "Here goes nothing."

Abby grinned at the sight, causing him to look at her in question.

"It's just...you're a wizard riding a broom," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

His features seemed to relax a bit. "Yeah," he said with a nod. "Yeah, I am."

And with that, he closed his eyes for a moment before leaning forward on the handle and kicking off.

A strong rush of air followed after him, making Abby's hair fly into her face. She hurriedly brushed it away as she squinted to see Harry zooming straight up into the sky.

The speed at which he was going nearly took her breath away. Witches on broomsticks never seemed to go that fast in the movies. But here was Harry, almost a blur in the sky.

He flew in wide circles at first, taking laps around the large pitch. But as time went by, she could see that he was growing more confident. He shot up in spirals, darted up and down in straight lines, did little loops and barrel rolls. It was the most incredible thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

He was the most incredible thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

Every now and then, he slowed down long enough for her to catch a glimpse of his face. And the sight of it caused her heart to swell. He just seemed so happy. Happier than she'd ever seen him before.

It was a good look on him.

Abby smiled to herself at the thought. She realised quickly that she could get used to this whole flying thing. Especially when Harry landed on the ground next to her several minutes later with windblown hair, flushed cheeks, and a bright smile.

God, he's absolutely gorgeous, she thought, her eyes shamelessly roving over him.

But she barely had time to appreciate the sight as he tossed the broom to the side and walked straight towards her, giving her a strong hug that nearly lifted her off the ground.

"Somebody's happy," Abby laughed, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled at her, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Thank you," he said, his tone serious. "I couldn't have—I mean...you…"

He broke off and shook his head.

"Say no more," Abby said, holding up a hand. "I know how you can repay me."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and then laughed. "Yeah?" he said with a grin that made her heart skip. "How so?"

She walked over to the broom and picked it up. "Give me a ride," she said, tossing it at him.

He caught it easily without looking, his eyes still on her.

Abby could tell that he was battling with the idea in his mind, and wondered if perhaps she'd pushed things too far.

It was too soon, after all.

The whole reason he'd even considered this was to connect with Ginny, not her.

Not to mention, it was an extremely sensitive subject for him, and it was tactless to even—

"Yeah, sure."

Abby's thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

"Really?" she said, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

Harry nodded.

"You don't have to force yourself," she said quickly. "It wasn't right of me to ask."

He gave her a small smile. "Well, you didn't ask, did you?" he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It was more of a demand."

Abby looked away, feeling embarrassed.

"Come on," he said, throwing his leg over the broom and patting the spot behind him.

She looked back at him. "Are you sure?" she said. "We don't have to do this."

"I'm sure," he said.

Abby let out a small breath and nodded. She then carefully approached the broom and sat down behind him.

"Hold on tight to me," Harry said over his shoulder. "I'll go slow at first."

She did as she was told, feeling a flutter of excitement in her stomach now.

And then they were off.

It was pretty mild at first, a bit like going on a ride at an amusement park. They stayed close to the ground, going at a minimum speed. It was rather relaxing.

"You ready to kick it up a bit?" Harry said.

"How much is a bit?"

Harry chuckled. "However much you want it to be."

Abby considered this for a moment before leaning forward to speak into his ear. "Show me your worst," she whispered.

And Harry did just that.

It was hard to think about anything as he shot them straight up into the air, the wind rushing past Abby's face with an intensity she'd never felt before, her stomach dropping as if she'd missed several steps on a staircase, the feeling of weightlessness making her want to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time.

But there was one thought that popped occasionally into the back of her mind in those moments where Harry slowed down just enough to let her to breathe normally again.

A thought that made her heart speed up in a way that no broomstick ride ever could.

Because she could've sworn she'd seen it.

Right before he'd sped them upwards to the sky.

A blush on the back of his neck as she'd spoken into his ear.

---

"...and this is the Forbidden Forest," Harry said, gesturing towards it. "It's got creatures in there you wouldn't even believe."

"I think I'd believe anything at this point," Abby said, her chin resting on his shoulder as they flew above it. "What kind of creatures? Are they dangerous? Is that why it's forbidden?"

"Well," he said. "There's centaurs...unicorns...these giant spiders called Acromantalus—"

Abby grimaced.

"—Werewolves, Thestrals—"

"What are those?" she said.

"Er…sort of...winged horses that look like lizards," he said

Abby wasn't sure she had the imagination to picture that.

"And yes," Harry continued. "Most of the creatures in there are dangerous which is why it's off limits to students."

"Have you ever been?" she said.

"About seven or eight times."

"What?" Abby said, turning her head towards him.

Harry simply smiled.

"I didn't peg you as a trouble-maker," Abby said thoughtfully, turning her head back to gaze at the forest.

He shrugged. "Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do."

"Okay, there's definitely a story there..."

Harry grinned. "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime," he said as he steered the broom away.

"See that tree over there," he said, pointing to the large willow she'd seen earlier. "That can kill you."

Abby threw her hands up in the air. "Is everything in this school dangerous?"

He let out a loud laugh, not bothering to answer as they continued flying across the grounds.

"And here's the Black Lake," he said. "Also home to countless creatures—some dangerous, others not so much."

Abby shook her head fondly.

"If we wait here for a bit, you might even see—"

"What was that?" she said, nearly losing her balance on the broom.

Harry's arm instantly flew behind him to steady her, holding onto her with a vice-like grip.

"Sorry," she breathed, wrapping her arms tighter around him. "I just—I thought I saw—"

"It's the Giant Squid," Harry said, his voice a bit subdued, now. "It lives in the lake."

Abby swallowed hard and nodded.

"Anyway," he said, placing a hand on top of hers against his stomach. "We should probably go. I, er...I still have to get back to work."

"Of course," she said, hating herself for ruining the pleasant mood they'd been having.

Harry landed them slowly and carefully onto the Quidditch pitch where he returned the broom back to its place in the shed.

"We'll have to walk back to the front gates to apparate," he said.

"Sure," Abby said, happy to spend as much time at Hogwarts as possible. As much time with him as possible. "At least this time I'll actually get to see them."

He gave her a small smile and nodded.

They walked in silence for a while, Abby taking in some last glances of the grounds, wanting to savour it as much as she could. She didn't know if he was planning on bringing her here again, and a part of her was too afraid to ask lest he say no.

There was still so much to explore, so many things she'd wanted to see. She couldn't get enough of it.

"Listen," Harry said, turning towards her as they reached the gate. "I know today was completely mad, but...I'm glad you were with me. And…I'm sorry. I wanted this to be an amazing day for you, and it wasn't."

Abby gave him an affectionate smile, reaching up hesitantly to place a hand on his cheek. "It was one of the best days of my life, Harry," she said.

His face relaxed, and he let out a sniff of amusement. "You're not just saying that to spare my feelings, are you?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Why on earth would I spare you?" she said. "After everything you put me through today."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she quickly cut him off.

"I'm kidding!" she said through her laughter, hitting his shoulder. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Harry smiled as he looked down at the ground. "Next time will be better, I promise."

"You'll bring me again?" she said, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

His head shot up and he gave her a look of disbelief. "Of course, I will. You haven't even seen the half of it," he said as if she were insane. "I still have to show you all my favourite snogging spots, don't I?"

"Oh, God," she said, rolling her eyes as he chuckled.

"And, erm...look," he said, sobering up suddenly. "I was thinking—for a few days, now—that...if you wanted to go to your dad's wedding, well...I can go with you."

Abby took a step back in surprise. That was the last thing she'd expected him to say.

How long had he been thinking about this? Had he been waiting until now to tell her? Did he just feel so guilty about today that he felt like he had to repay her somehow?

"What brought that on?" she said quietly, unsure how to feel at the moment.

"I've just been thinking about it," he said with a shrug. "A lot."

Abby frowned. "Why?"

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged again. "I know what it's like having crap family members," he said with a sad smile. "And I definitely know what it's like to have to go to a wedding filled with them. It's...not something you should do alone."

Her face softened at his words.

"You said it was at the end of the month, yeah?"

"This Saturday."

He nodded. "Well, then...If you decide to go, I'll be there," he said.

Abby shifted her eyes away, blinking rapidly.

"Thanks," she said, not trusting herself to say more, at the moment.

But out of the corner of her eye, she could see a small smile form on his face as he stared at her.

"Anything for you," he said, quietly.