Chapter 14
Albus stared blankly at the bubbling cauldron in front of him. The bright red potion was supposed to be pink, but he couldn't be bothered to figure out where he had gone wrong. Potions was dreadfully boring to him, not helped in the slightest by the fact that Professor Flamel was about the most straight-faced, by-the-book teacher he had so far; after all he had been expecting from hearing the untold truth about that family and what it had produced, it was a touch disappointing.
The silence, so pure you could hear the bubbling of the cauldrons with their tick liquids, was shattered by a rapping (more like a slow banging) upon the chamber door, rending the mute subdue that hung over the crowd with the fumes of multi-colors. Looking up from the parchment he had been studying on his desk, the professor called out "Enter." For being such a starched shoe string he had quite a commanding voice.
The chamber door opened, and the grizzled old caretaker strode in, his wooden cane making a loud tap against the stone floor. He crossed the room over to Richard Flamel, and hoarsely grumbled under his breath to the man, inaudible to the class. Albus' heart nearly stopped when the professor looked over, directly at him with no mistaking it. "Mr. Potter, you are excused. If you will please accompany Mr. Filch," Professor Flamel spoke. "I will grade your cauldron based on the time you have had in equation to where your progress should reasonably expected to be and have it returned to you at the end of the period."
Then the quiet sounds of snickering.
Albus slid his book into his bag, ignoring it. Collecting his class things, he stood from his desk and waited for Filch to tap his way to join him at the back of the class. From there, Albus followed the moldering old figure out of the room and down the hall. They walked in silence for a time, the only sound their footsteps against the stone tiles of the dungeons, accompanied by the clicking of the wooden cane… Finally, Albus spoke.
"I'm sorry sir, but am I in trouble?" he asked nervously.
Filch sneered, glaring at Albus. "Trouble indeed. Broken statues and windows never reprimanded for. Oh t'was fun, but who had to clean up after? All that bloodstain and spider gore. Not a single thought, that one, no. Should have at least expired with the rest of them, the little brat."
"Um, Sir?"
Filch came off his just-vocal tirade to respond when the latest Potter in residence broke his concentrated flow. His memory wasn't quite what it was or quite so quick on the uptake anymore, so he forgot his train of resenting thoughts and sorted the important ones to recall what he was leading the student for. "No, you have a visitor, brat. (That last word was another added mutter.) I was sent to fetch you so you could greet them." Though after this he did add some dark extension that was beyond comprehension but the nature of which was within guessing.
"Oh, good," Albus said, a weight being lifted from his chest; he'd had enough bad news for one semester already. He followed the old caretaker the rest of the way, the only sound the cane's insistent clacking and rustle of their robes.
Upon passing through the final door, Albus blinked at the sudden change from torch light to that of the sun, before looking around the entrance hall. His eyes came to rest on his visitor.
"Dad?" He called out, both greeting and question.
Harry Potter turned to look at his son, a smile spreading across his face. He turned back to the person he had previously been conversing with, Headmaster Gaunt. "I will definitely look into that, Headmaster. If you will excuse me, I would like to spend some time with my son."
"Of course, Mr. Potter. Please feel free to walk the grounds. I assume you will enjoy recalling some fond memories with your son."
"Yes, it will be good to see how things have changed since I was here." Evidently knowing when people have changed to the stage of simply being polite, the headmaster gave a conceding nod and a small perfunctory smile towards Albus as he swept away in a whirl of dark fabric.
"Albus." As soon as they were alone, Harry Potter knelt to one knee that he might better hug his son without embarrassing the boy by lifting him instead to the proper height.
"Dad. What are you doing here? What did the headmaster want?" The questions were spilling out as the surprised finished embracing his father. James wasn't here to make fun of him.
"Let's take a walk down to Hagrid's, shall we? It's been a while since I've had the pleasure of enjoying some of his rock cakes."
Not one to ever question his father yet, even if he were to suddenly display a questionable urging to try the gamekeeper's cooking, Albus easily fell into step beside the great man who shortened his strides that his son might better keep up with him.
It was well that they kept their words impersonal, for now that they were alone, a number of the ghosts who had known all students who passed through these halls crowded in for greetings of their own to the boy they all admired greatly. Peeves of course bounced through screeching, singing something obscene about "His eyes are green as toads", but that ended with a sharp word by the Bloody Baron who sent him away in a pale streak, leaving only Nearly-Headless Nick to hold them up a moment longer until Harry offered to stop down in the dungeons to have a word before he left.
Finally alone in peace once they crossed the entrance threshold (the barrier for the no-longer-being who resided in there), the silence was resounding and welcome. After the stuffy potions class (which Albus still did not understand why it was being held in the dungeons if his second namesake was no longer in charge there) he breathed the clear clean air with relish; the crisp breeze filling his lungs and lifting him almost mentally with it.
"The headmaster and Neville both say you've been getting along well in classes, good grades, except maybe potions, and that you've made a few new friends." Albus turned his face up to look at his father, who spoke the bit about potions with a sly little grin of his own, before dropping it off as he mentioned the next bit. "But they also say that you are having issues…with sleeping. Dreams."
Harry Potter stopped and his son stopped with him, looking up in horror as his father took a step in front of him and turned, kneeling down once again to be at face-height. "Albus." Harry placed both hands on his son's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "I know." His son almost shuddered. "I know how it is, being…your age and not having anyone believe in you, no matter how obvious the signs are, and that's why I want to believe in you." He gripped a little tighter. "But I also want you to know how dangerous the idea of someone…messing with your mind can be. Your mother and I have raised you as well as we can with absolute lack of secrecy, as much as we think you, your brother, and yours sister can handle it – But I want you to know, I, myself, went through the same thing, so I want to be absolutely clear… Whatever you say, I will listen, and I will hear, as much as a person who has gone…probably through more than many would like to think, through the same thing…can."
"Dad." Albus didn't know what to say. "I…"
"Your brother is… admittedly a bit of a handful, and not the most sensitive at times; mostly I blame your mother's blood connections to your uncles." Harry still sometimes referred to the surviving of the twins in the plural, but it was something he was never going to get completely over. None of them would. "…But I will listen, and I will try my best to see it from your point of view as I wished others had seen mine, at the same age and position as you are now." Albus really did seem, more than anything, like a mix of his father and godfather than any other time, at this minute. Harry internally shuddered. He had been the one exactly called in when the first sign of something at the school was going wrong had appeared. Now he hoped whatever divining force that wizards believed in that his low-boiling suspicions were incorrect. A lot of children had over-active imaginations, so Hermione said. And she was the one who actually graduated, with a degree in muggle studies where things like psychology were an issue that was to be addressed.
Albus looked his father dead in the eye, as he had done, when answering him, Albus.
"It's a bit of a story," he put out, finally.
"It's a long walk to Hagrid's; especially if we walk slowly so we don't interrupt his morning classes." Harry smiled down at him, and Albus was sure again that he had the best father in the world. Slowly they strode their way onward again, with Albus taking up the role of storytelling, leaving nothing behind. By the time they made their way to the gamekeeper hut clearing, all had been spilled out and Harry was looking pensive again.
"And you're sure that it was headmaster Gaunt who was speaking to this man?"
"Yes father, I'm sure."
Harry sighed and pulled them up again. "I just want to be sure…" He hesitated. "If there's one thing fighting with Voldemort has taught me…it's that you should always double-check. Life…can be a little complicated. It never hurts to know again, for sure, that something you think you are going to act about will be the right decision and on the best of what you know at the minute in time."
Given the man was the head of the auror office and got there after defeating the most famous dark wizard of all time, Albus was inclined to take all of his father's advice seriously. But that still didn't help him understand what he should be doing.
"Akuji has been teaching me self-defense." Oh no, why had he said that? It had nothing to do with what was his problem. Bullies he could handle, but that wasn't why his father was taking the time out to hear him.
"Yes, Akuji." To his slight horror, his father's face looked pensive. Seeing the plain look on his son's face, Harry softened his expression. "Don't worry, your mother and I already know about the training. Louis…was quite vocal against it when he and your brother returned last Christmas; claiming it was dangerous and irresponsible and he should be allowed to speak to the headmaster about her. It seems becoming Prefect has not had much effect in that endeavor, has it?" Albus smiled and shook his head. It didn't surprise him that his father already knew, but chose to keep it from him as it wasn't any of his business at the time. "He has written to me as well in the last week, stating that he was growing increasingly worried about your time spent in her company. He believes, I think, that such a friendship may result in you being…more like your brother, I think."
"Insensitive and a right git?"
Harry laughed. "Your Uncle Ron has been teaching you a few too many things I think. I suggest that you not let your mother ever hear you say such a thing even if she did use those exact words for her own brothers on more than one occasion." Ah yes, Harry and Ginny along with Fred and Ron continued to avoid the third Weasley brother at all times whenever possible to do so without appearing rude in it. And his wife made no containment of letting it be known when she felt her youngest brother had made of himself a right twit that needed putting in his place immediately.
"Albus, I want to be serious, and for you to listen very carefully to me about it." His previous smile faded and was replaced with a face to reflect his tone of earnest. He didn't stop walking however, not wanting to send the wrong message to his son. "I have met Akuji this past winter when seeing your brother off again and once more when she left the train this summer. She seems a decent enough sort, and I would thank her for what she has done – your cousin is not so one-sided he would fail to mention that you have been experiencing some problems concerning those…challenging you for the sake of saying they have braved the son of Harry Potter and won – but there have been some…reports that leave a few questions that need to be answered."
As head of the Auror Office it was a small matter to request any known information about the international student from his counterpoints in those parts of the world which she claimed and James reported her to have frequented. The Chinese were never much help but the others, bless their obsessive Oriental perfectionism and tyrannical efficient-ism, had been willing enough to accommodate Harry Potter in this little matter of sating a father's curiosity for the welfare of his child in the light of cultivating further good relations. Bless Hermione for encouraging so much further interaction between ministries since the beginning of her time in office, including backing the idea of beginning to produce a unit to keep up to date with the muggle times in the event some warlock got it in their head to do the crazy and unexpected by trying things like the internet. They had even ended up listening to the Japanese and Taiwanese about getting phones installed in the interest of saving time and really a lot of mouthfuls of ashes as the price of the connection. It wasn't misusing muggle artifacts if you were actually install-and-using them as intended. Harry personally loved his email, though it still stumped most of his minions and took a little bit out of the magic of getting mail delivered by owls (but he still got plenty of those, so no big deal). Ron was now addicted to Goggle (of course Hermione had a computer in her home, the Japanese and Americans practically refused to communicate by any other means when this was more time and security efficient). Oh the humor of it.
But what he had found when he received those documents with the details that he asked for…it hadn't been so funny.
"Her life would seem innocent enough, but there are some things…" Here Harry paused, wondering how best to present this. "…How much has she told you about her life story?"
Albus hadn't been surprised until this point. He had expected his father to have some concerns about a girl who was freely teaching his children 'violent muggle actions' (as Louis still put it), but not quite like this last question. Still, he would answer with complete honesty.
"She's told me she lives with her uncle in Prague during the summer. Her family on that side is quite old and powerful, but not pureblood, with some history about that. They were considered a rarity as they chose, vocally, not to side with Voldemort in his wars against the muggles. She's quite proud, actually. Her family claims some distant relation to Slytherin, but her mother died when she was young and her uncle refuses to speak on it. He's the head of the International Board for the Preservation of Magical Creatures and has taken her along a few times when it was safe for her to go with him." Now that he thought about it, Akuji seemed to almost love bragging about the man. He was legendary amongst magical creature enthusiasts and his name had even been spoken by Aunty Hermione on occasion with a certain warmth that stated she approved of the man.
Harry nodded along with all of this in silence. It was all information he was aware of. Lucien Kemmler was a man he had seen dealings with, though he had no idea the man had a niece, as Lucien preferred about his life to remain private, as much as could be done without arousing suspicion. It took a certain kind of spirit to head the International Board for the Preservation of Magical Creatures, a semi-independent offshoot that had sprung up in the wake of Voldemort's war when much of the establishment had seen an overhaul and activists had insisted that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was an ancient relic that had lost significant relevance in their new times. Thanks to a certain former Hogwarts student turned war hero then British Minister of Magic, many of the old rules from three hundred years ago had been taken another look at and a few lines re-drawn. A lot of the rules and regulations were still in position, each country was responsible for concealment, care, and control of all magical beasts, beings, and spirits dwelling within its territory's borders and punishable if they caused any harm or drew attention from muggles (an increasingly obstinate problem with the rise of increased things such as security cameras, mobile phones, and easy-to-direct satellites capable of capturing and keeping those images with the push of a few buttons). However, many on the International Confederation of Wizards had come to agree that there were some species that warranted extra protection against going extinct that needed a more concentrated effort to maintain, especially the ones of a certain magical power that attracted poachers and the like who could use their natural abilities for less than scrupulous means. So when this idea of an organization that would operate alongside the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as a small, flexible unit that would be focused on mobile response to prevent the hunting and distribution of such creatures, whether whole specimens or merely for parts, made up of members from each ministry, was suggested, it was met with much acceptance.
It was a unit made in part of aurors and part of experts who had either worked in the Regulation departments or specialized in the care and research of such creatures. The one and only Newt Scamander, who had a part in the organizing of it, had been beyond proud to see the results of his life's work finally blossoming in a new stage for this generation, especially upon his grandson marrying one of its fellow members, even if she was a little eccentric. (Harry privately suspected Scamander Sr. had actually loved Luna for her oddity all the more.)
A revolutionary idea needed a leader who could think outside the box (Scamander was well on in years and thus unable to keep up like he used to), and Lucien Kemmler had stepped up to the plate.
It was a known fact that his family had connections to the infamous House of Slytherin: all old wizard families were related within easily traceable distance due to so much intermarry. However, the line of Kemmler was known almost as well in the magical community for an entirely different reason, which is that it, unlike other lineages, had no care for blood or wizard purity.
Their only pursuit was power, infinitely.
Historically this primarily originally Russian bloodline had seen much 'tainting' over the centuries, but none would dare say any of this to their faces. This was because they famously, or rather infamously, only accepted the best as being allowed to be married or accepted into the family. Whether pure or not, as long as you had power or talent you could be seen as an equal by them. Understandably there had been some…history…surrounding that. There were stories of wizards and witches with abilities that would have made Grindelwald seem tame by comparison. The only reason he and Voldemort stood out so in history is that they had chosen to draw the attention to themselves; but not even Voldemort, allegedly, had dared to cross them in his days of power, in both times of his conflicts with the establishment. Those Cossacks were a vicious lot, it would seem, when it came to challenging them on a scale for power, and they always repaid a debt, especially an insulting debt.
Sadly, most of them had died out; more interested in their researches and pursuits of understanding the mysteries that magic had to offer in the interest of their aims for power than in procreating. One of the few left was Lucien, and at his fingertips the mass of wealth and unknown stores of the Kemmler fortune, a lot of which did not put stock in simple gold and silver. The International Confederation of Wizards had needed him, as much for his expertise as well as his money. Plus he had been one of the most vocal in support of the idea of the Board and the forming of it. A simple solution? Stick him in charge of the thing. That way the Confederation got what it needed – appeasing the activists and adding another element to help combat poachers and black marketers – and all of it for not a single knut out of their own pocket. If things went bad? Well, it was a relatively new experiment and the only ones to blame where the people who wanted it. They had nothing to lose.
And lose they hadn't. The Board for the Preservation of Magical Creatures went off without a hitch, completing their duties with competent care and ruthless efficiency. Azkaban prison and many others globally were filled with dark poachers and traders who thrived previously off of their profiteers at the expense of innocent creatures' lives. Well, mostly innocent creatures. Harry still wasn't so sure about those gnolls.
"Interesting…" Harry paused his prodding to think about this new information his son made him aware of. James had bragged a bit about Akuji, about the things she told Harry's son she did when her uncle let her, though he was surprised Albus didn't know this much until after meeting the girl personally. His boys did need to learn to get along again, more than he had thought it would seem initially. But any further talk on this matter would have to wait. They were at the old weather-beaten hut and the sound of a bellowing voice was climbing towards them, complete in accompaniment with loud chatting and the resounding booms of a dog's greeting from a deep chest.
Fang, Hagrid's faithful old boarhound, had long since passed in the timely manner of all things. This new replacement was named Tracker as he was just as big and powerful and unlike his predecessor had a bit more guts when it came to confronting something that he was likely to come across in the forest with his master. Still drooled the same and loved just as much to pounce on unsuspecting visitors to the cabin. "Aye, 'arry! Yer doin' a'right there then?" The dog's massive owner came up behind him and beamed down at the sight that was a joy for sore eyes who had just survived dealing with the whiny little bin brains with no respect for him. Hagrid would soon swear to his former student that they just didn't make'em the same, with a few exceptions, while smiling fondly at Albus.
"Hi, Hagrid." Harry managed to smile without getting boarhound slobber in his own mouth despite getting his ears licked like they were meaty treats.
"A'righ', get ov' of him." With a casual heave Hagrid had leveled the dog away and Harry managed to quickly spell the slobber off his robes, leaving them as fresh as just out of the laundry. "Albus, glad to see you 'ere. C'mon in, c'mon in, I'm jes' puttin' the kettle on."
Harry was not surprised to find everything the exact same in the hut as the day he snuck down for Aragog's funeral and successfully coerced Professor Slughorn into giving Harry the memory of him conversing with Tom Riddle about the creation of a horcrux in duplicate. He always made it a point every time he would visit to stop by for tea, even if it was just for a few moments. The skein of silvery unicorn hair was once again braided and hanging from the rafters and Harry still, out of habit, looked around the single room to make sure of any 'interesting' surprise his unique friend might have quite innocently had lie in waiting, just so in case he might have to side-step it.
"Ar' this is a moment for me old bones, father and son under me roof together, it brings a tear to me eye." To go with his emotional honesty the large man reached up and used the back of his wrist to wipe said moisture from his face. "Your brother wouldn't be caught dead in here in the company of his father last year, ye know," he told Albus. "Ter grown up fer' it, I recon." He plopped giant mugs with teabags in front of them and proceeded to add steaming liquid from the kettle, followed by a giant plate of his infamous rock cakes. To Harry's surprise, when he took one of them, fully expecting the usual challenge to even nibble a piece…
"Hagrid! Your cooking has improved." Harry sounded very impressed. "These are actually pretty good…Well, better than even before," he amended in a hurry.
"Aye, yer think so?" The mighty game keeper seemed most pleased, his face and voice almost seemed to gush at getting the compliment from Harry, who he would never have known sent that message in the summer after the boy's third year out of sheer desperation at the idea of starvation.
Albus looked a little startled. Harry and Hermione had warned on separate occasions to be careful of anything Hagrid might cook up, but the muffins he had the first time he came over for tea had been palpably decent.
"I recon I got Akuji to thank then. Yer know she's been slipping me hints on how to improve a bit. Been all over, that one, she 'as," he confided almost conspiratorially.
"Akuji! Akuji Kemmler?!" Harry shot up in his seat. Luckily Hagrid had his back to them, poking at the fire with the iron stick.
"Aye, Lucien's niece. She comes down every now and then." He turned around and seemed a touch perplexed at seeing Harry's undisguised surprise. "Yeah he got a niece, moved in with 'im last year." He frowned at Harry, thinking. "I'm almost certain I mentioned it ter' ya. She was with 'im when I joined their trip down to Australia this summer."
Hagrid may not hold any position with the Ministry, but as a well-known lover of all creatures of the magical kind—particularly to have an affinity and surprising encyclopedic knowledge for the more dangerous beasts—he was offered an open invitation to join the Board at any time and had on occasion ridden along for the more dangerous missions where his massive size and magical protection of his giant heritage had come in most useful handy. He tended to spend parts of his summer working with the Board for the Preservation of Magical Creatures in their effort to stamp down trafficking of the creatures.
"She was with you in Australia this year?" Harry managed to ask almost normally.
"Yeah, that'a girl. No offence to yer aunt Hermione," Hagrid lowered his voice to a loud conspiratory whisper and tilted just a bit Albus's way. "…Brilliant woman, one o' the best Ah ever knew, but she jes' din' have the same touch when it comes to magical creatures. But that Akuji there, takes after her uncle I swear. Tracking a bunch of skinwalkers with us, you see, and eh…" Suddenly his eye caught Harry's and he tamped off the end. "Well…it's not a story for such ears. Maybe when you're old enough that your da' agrees it's appropriate enough."
"Skinwalkers… Are they the ones who wear the skin of other animals or beasts to change into them of gain their power?"
Both adults looked at the young one with surprise and trepidation. "Aye, they be the ones." Hagrid frowned fiercely. "Warlocks 'a stealin' skin off innocent animals and wearin' them to gain their power. Ugly business, truly ugly business.
"How do you know that, Albus?" He asked him, but Harry could easily guess where the information came from.
"Akuji told me. She said in the group that you were tracking two of them had taken the skins of centaurs and that they were trying to use it to threaten a shaman into letting them access the Dreaming, whatever that is."
Hagrid's face now turned thoroughly thunderous while Harry remained silent and a touch pale that was barely enough that it could easily be missed in the dim firelight of the hut's hearth. "Aye," the big man said, the anger rumbling in his voice, "Ah' don't always see eye-to-eye with the hooves me self, but to take the skin of not just a beast, but a reasoning intelligent being…" he shook his head, "wicked business, just pure wickedness.
"But Lucien," he brightened up a bit again, "great man, that one. Tracked them down and when we caught up…ah…" His face went from cheered up to downright nigh revenant. "Most o' the lot wouldn't go near them—scared half to death, but not Lucien; walked right in there, wand ablazin'. Newt Scamander would be proud himself if he were here today. Evil business, just evil, doin' some'in like that to another intelligent being."
"And you said Akuji was there?"
"Hey?" Hagrid broke from his memory lane when Harry interrupted him with his question. "Oh, er, yeah. Don' tell anyone though." He looked around and lowered his voice. "Technically he's not ser'posed ta bring a kid that young, but she's good, trained her up a right bit himself you see. Good girl with creatures. Why, would ye know, she comes down like clockwork every weekend, just for a few hours mind, most to see the thestrals. Helps me ter' groom them, check them over, then takes them for a turn over the forest a bit. Lovely girl, great touch with griffins too if you'll believe. Oh, but don' tell anyone I said that." He looked a little embarrassedly at the two. "She made me promise not to tell anyone. Think she's a bit worried about what yer brother would think if he knew she liked being out here with the animals and such like that."
Albus already knew, thanks to his dad's stories, that Hagrid could have a terrible time with keeping secrets, though not intentionally. He was quick to reassure the man that this information would die in the grave with him.
Harry on the other hand had a line of thinking more complex. It was obvious the love and admiration his old friend held for the elder Kemmler. Before the Board existed, trafficking creatures and beasts of magical origin internationally was a thing to be handled by aurors as a severe offense. Oft times the creatures that were to be sold did not end up in much better fates as on more than one occasion the people who were sent to stop the sellers were not equipped for the delicate nature of a rescue operation being added as an aspect of the mission, and more than one fatal result had been the lingering end of this. It was one of the things that Hermione had vigorously backed for even before she took the Minister office. Lucien didn't just save the animals; he dedicated himself to the job with as much love and care for their wellbeing as a parent for their own children. That stood him in great pride with people like Hagrid. Akuji now apparently coming down voluntarily to be with the horses that still held an unchanged stigma as signs of ill fortune had no doubt earned her the same. He would have to tread lightly broaching this delicate subject with his son and friend.
"And she's been doing this all year?"
"Oh yeah, since the last. Came to me the weekend right after she started, said Lucien had told her I keep a pack in the forest and could use some help groomin' them. Only time I recon she doesn't come down here is when she's got tests and studying coming up. Or the weather's bad, particularly. O'er than that, not a week goes by she doesn't stop by outside 'a classes at least once. Sometimes more if she's feeling in the mood for it. I recon she loves those thestrals, spoilin' them too. Lusca meat," he snorted, "next thing ye know they'll be divin' in after the squid."
Harry decided to politely not ask where she was getting such things as lusca meat, whatever that is. He figured he could already reckon, and that if it wasn't raising red flags with Hagrid it probably wasn't a problem then. He decided he had some more looking-into to do before he made a decision; therefore he would have to shelve the idea until he could once again take a look at what he knew.
"She sounds like an interesting character. I'm sure we will have plenty to talk about this afternoon."
"Dad?" Albus was unaware that he looked horrified. His father, in a room, speaking to his friend. Alone. If word got back to his mother about some of the things James and her had talked about…oh they were dead.
"Something wrong Al?" Harry almost decided to tease his son on seeing his face, then decided to. "Afraid I might find something of what you four have been up to? Oh yes, Louis gave me and your mother a full report. I know that Fred is in on it with you three as well. Something you might want me to know before that I shouldn't tell her?"
"Ah, erm, no, well that is…she's really good, really." Albus tried to rectify greatly. Unfortunately for him he still held his father in such awe that lying to the man or even deceiving by rule of omission was for him the greatest sin. "Sometimes…a little inappropriate, for a girl that is…" Oh Merlin, he could feel the heat rising. "You know…James, he and Fred sometimes talk about things and Aunt Hermione… That is…Dominique talks with Victoire…and then about Teddy, at the station…Aunt Fluer…" Oh Nicolas Flamel, kill him now, quickly. Was there a reverse option to the Sorcerer's Stone? It took him a full moment to calm down and realize his father was shaking. "Dad?" he queried. He just Knew he was in so much trouble.
Harry was trying desperately to keep and not let the laugh out, but it was just so cursed difficult. Oh his poor little Albus. Precious little Albus, he was thinking (though maybe not those exact words), don't ever change a single thing about you.
"Harry," Hagrid could make heard his note of doubt, "yer not goin'ta be goin' after 'er for some'in' like that?" When Hagrid got nervous or worked up his accent could discernibly thicken. "Yer know James can be a right 'andful. Merlin knows why ye had to go an' name 'im after not one but both yer father and Black; as if one alone weren't enough, rest their souls."
Harry could take it no longer. He raised his head to reveal the biggest grin of mirth on his face. "You honestly think I would be angry about something like that? I was once your age once." James was thirteen, Harry could remember being that age. He recalled things, vividly. Meeting Cho Chang out on the quidditch field, that secret little thing that lived inside of him when Diggory got to ask her to the ball first…that same little thing when he saw Dean kissing his now wife… Yeah he wasn't one to blame.
Turning to his son he could only beam, "I think you will agree that you and I can agree that there are some things your mother really does not need to know because it's something you can talk to me about and it's not going to hurt anybody, agreed?" Honestly, Hermione was right; the education system did need some rethinking, if questions like this were going to continue to come up. Thank the stars Teddy had been possessed of his own grandmother who had been just as willing to put things delicately when he asked her about it quite innocently before being referred to his godfather to find the answers. It didn't bear to Harry to think of his only godson asking his wife about it. That would have been awkward, as he hoped Teddy had the decency to figure out when wondering who to talk to about these things.
Albus nodded vigorously, relieved and suddenly deflated at knowing he wasn't going to get in trouble for it.
"And don't worry, it's not like I came all this way specifically to interrogate her. I'm here for my lectures on Defense Against the Dark Arts. She'll be in one of the classes with James now that they're in the third year. From what I understand she does quite well for herself there as well. Maybe think she would have time for a few notes about how to deprive a wizard of his wand in the event mine is out of action temporarily?" Not that Harry ever thought about that; this was the wand that had been repaired by the Elder Wand, there was no way it was breaking again – so Ron was fond of saying. (Harry now carried a backup on the job despite all that. One year of dealing with subpar spell-slinging was more than enough for any decent wizard, thank you kindly and goodbye.) In any event, he would be interested just in seeing what this girl was teaching his sons. Who knew? Maybe it would turn out to be something useful and interesting. After all, he had been on the receiving end of enough elbows, kicks, and punches in his time going against Voldemort and then as an auror. Perhaps it was time he learned properly how to punch back.
"Aye, but all this discussin' about fighten' is givin' me an appetite, an' I know Harry, as much as you protested and tried to be polite, my cookin' left somethin' to be desirin'. It's a gentle truth you could have put it," the now silver-streaked beard split to show Hagrid smiling. "But I suggest we all get on up before there's only puddin' left and that ain't no recipe fer a growin' boy, ye hearin'?" Albus and his father both could agree to follow Hagrid's advising and all gathered up to begin walking up to the castle for the midday meal.
"Albus," Harry said gently as they were up the rolling green and Albus was actually having to stop in his near-skipping to not get ahead. "Why don't you go on ahead? I still know where the kitchens are if we're late but I want a few minutes to catch up with Hagrid."
Albus looked between his father and the mountain of a man. He wanted to stay and hear all the things they said, but he had learned by now that when an adult made a suggestion to go ahead or play in another room it was because they really had something that needed to be said and it wasn't for little prying ears. So off he went, running for all he was worth without actually straining himself to any extent.
Harry watched him go, a smile on his face at his own memories. Oh to be young again, if not so carefree. Actually he couldn't really remember running that way on the grounds of Hogwarts, not unless it would mean getting somewhere faster to inform somebody, hopefully, who would believe and aid them in whatever endeavor they were on about this semester. Come to think of it, as much as he loved Hogwarts as his home, he hadn't really enjoyed it to quite the same extent as a normal kid and then teenager. Odd, he had never thought of it, not that way.
"Yer di'n send him on jes' to catch up with me; we speak enough regularly to keep up as it will. Yer have sum'n ter say ter me and you don' wan' him hearin'."
Harry considered his words carefully. "Hagrid, how much do you Know about Akuji? Have you heard anything from Lucien about who her mother was?"
"Aye, his older sister, if'n I'm rememberin' it correctly." Hagrid took a moment to think. It wasn't that he was unintelligent, it just sometimes took him a bit longer than Harry would like to know how to connect anything – which was still faster than a lot of people he dealt with, honestly. Hagrid may be big and slow but he was never an idiot.
"Has he ever told you anything about her? Who she married?"
"Harry," Hagrid said gently, "where is this leadin'?" It was a deceptive tone, the kind people don't always really realize they have them. It wasn't accusatory or a suspicion, Harry Potter would always be Rubeus Hagrid's greatest friend and confident. But he had an understanding for the person he was being questioned about, and there was a loyalty and love that could be separate from the feelings and connections he had with Harry.
"I just…" Harry had no idea how he was going to say anything. "…There are some things that may be…they don't add up. And I know she may be the most perfect sweet innocent girl who happens to enjoy discussing 'things' with my son and his cousin…" Hagrid unsuccessfully attempted not to and snorted. "…Not that I can blame them, we've all been young once—but I want to be certain. I don't want my children…" ending up the way I did with things the way they happened.
"Harry," Hagrid sighed, a great deep not-so-silent bellow from the man that sent a few brush pieces rattling as he passed them. "I know that the years have been tough…but you can't see bad in everything."
"Please." Harry was willing to beg; pride had never been an issue unless it meant sending the message that those who were in the wrongdoing would get away and enjoy it instead. "They are my sons. I need to know if there might be something, anything, that might be causing this."
Hagrid shook his head. "You know the man: secrets as close to the vest as his own skin. Not in a bad way, mind yeh, but Harry," he looked his former pupil dead in the eye. "Every man is allowed the right to his own grievin'. And that man, he got secrets that he's mournin'. So my advice? Let it alone. He already told me more than he told anybody, admitten' he got a niece, and that were a night he were primed for sharin'. We both'n had a bottle and glass more than we should'a even if it were after a mission. Let it go. Judgin' people's almost easier than judgin' beasts. You get a feel for them the same, eventually. And I don' know why any bee's go'en your bonnet, Akuji's a good girl." He had to shrug. "A bit strange at times and with an amount of knowledge questionable, but a good kid nonetheless. She's a'sticken up for your kids, no questions asked, remember that." He added after a second, "Please."
"I'll try Hagrid, you know I will." Harry managed to smile at his old friend and professor. "After all, I, who got the detention for admitting and claiming that Voldemort was back." He casually waved the hand that had five perfectly legible words scarred into the back of it. A mantra that had been a mockery of his life and then a structuring motif that he held to show for till this day. It didn't get any more serious than this.
I just hope she's everything Louis only marks her up to be.
"Ata boy Harry!" The dustbin-sized hand, no matter how much the boy may have grown or thought he might become accustomed to this, still nearly found him lying face-forward, eating the dirt and sampling it for impurities of the dark magic kind.
Yep! Some things never changed.
