Knock Knock.
Harry Potter put down his quill and the parchment he was grading.
"Come in," he said, and the door opened.
A young girl entered, shutting the door behind her, then made her way to stand in front of his desk.
"Good afternoon, Elizabeth," he said. He placed the parchment on top of a pile of others, and pushed it to the left on his desk.
"You wanted to see me, Gr-Professor Potter," she corrected.
He nodded. "Professor Wood told me he caught you flying on the Quidditch pitch quite early this morning. Is this true?"
Eyes defiant, she nodded but said nothing.
"Professor Wood hasn't given you detention, but he was most concerned. Curfew is there for a reason, Elizabeth. You know you're not supposed to leave the common room till after eight a.m.," he reminded her.
She sighed. "But I was awake so early and when I saw the sunrise, I just knew I needed to go flying," she told him, as passionate as one could be at the age of eleven.
" All of your homework and assignments are up to date then?" he asked knowingly.
She flushed and shuffled her feet, her fingers dancing over the edge of his desk. "Mostly."
" I see."
He said nothing else for several seconds, an auror tactic that had worked well in the past and he still used now he was teaching at Hogwarts.
It worked now.
"It's not fair," she cried.
"What's not fair?" he asked, feeling he was about to get to the root of the real problem.
"First years not being allowed to have their own brooms at Hogwarts," she cried. "The school ones are so old and slow. I bet I could make the Quidditch team if I have my broom from home with me."
Harry shrugged. "Those are the rules. I don't make them."
She looked disappointed in his response. "No, you just break them," she muttered.
"I beg your pardon," he said sternly, his eyes narrowing.
Realising she'd crossed a line, she immediately looked remorseful. "I'm sorry."
He nodded, accepting her apology.
"Couldn't you talk to the headmistress for me...please?" she implored.
He sighed. "Elizabeth..."
"Please! Mum said you're her all time favourite and she'd never say no to you," she pleaded.
He scowled. "I don't know where your mum gets her ideas from," he said.
" Probably from grandma," she replied.
She came around the side of his desk, perching on the corner.
"Please, will you ask her? I've been watching the others practice before tryouts next week, and I know I'm the best flyer Gryffindor have got."
She said this earnestly, not bragging, and he knew it was true. Gryffindor's team hadn't been the strongest in years, not since the days when multiple Weasleys and Potters were on the team. His own children, nieces and nephews.
He'd watched her fly before and it was true, she was good...very good. What was most obvious was how much she loved flying, reminding him strongly of his wife and her passion for flying.
"I'm having a meeting with the headmistress later. I may mention it to her, but Elizabeth, I can't be seen to be showing favouritism," he reminded her.
She scoffed. "It's a stupid rule anyway, even grandma says so."
She was confident now, sure that Professor Potter would somehow make it right and she'd get her broom.
"No more early morning flying, all right?" he told her sternly.
"You could come with me," she offered, " then it would be all right, wouldn't it?"
"You know I rarely sleep over at Hogwarts," he reminded her. He wasn't about to get up extra early and miss out on morning cuddles with his wife, even for Elizabeth.
"What about one of my cousins? They're all older, heck, Arthur and Jasmine are prefects," she asked.
He shook his head, trying to hide his smile as she sighed so deeply. Ah, the woes of an eleven year old.
"Fine," she finally conceded, but he didn't buy it for a second.
"If Professor Wood catches you again, you'll find yourself in detention," he warned her.
"Then I guess I better not get caught," she said without thinking, before her eyes widened in realisation.
He couldn't help but chuckle, and she grinned back at him.
"Like Grandma says, better to ask forgiveness than permission," she said cheekily.
"You are so much like your grandmother, Elizabeth Ginevra," he scolded lightly.
" Lizzie. I'm Lizzie," she told him fiercely, eyes blazing.
He nodded, his eyes warm with remembrance. "You've been Lizzie since the first time I held you in my arms, when you were less than an hour old."
She stood and came over to him and hugged him.
"You'll make it right, won't you Grandpa? You'll talk to headmistress Macgonagall?" she asked confidently.
" I'll see what I can do," he said hugging her back. "No promises," he warned, as her eyes shone in victory.
How could he resist her when her eyes reminded him of his own daughter, his Lily, mother to Lizzie. She was so like Lily in appearance, and so like his own Ginny in attitude.
"I guess I should go, work on that assignment you gave us," she said happily. "Zombies, right?"
"Imps," he corrected with a sigh. "Read chapter nine and answer the question sheet I gave you."
She looked sheepish. He opened a drawer and pulled out some parchment and his wand, doing a quick duplicate charm. With yet another stern look he handed it to her.
She reached out to take it, with a thanks.
"When will we learn the Patronus charm?" she asked.
"Not till your fifth year," he told her.
"What? That's ages away," she groaned. She then brightened. "You can teach me over the summer break though, can't you Grandpa? I really want to see if mine is a unicorn like my mum's."
"We'll see," he said. "Now, off with you, I need to finish grading these papers before my meeting with the headmistress."
"By meeting, you really mean tea and shortbread," corrected Lizzie. " Is it true she may retire after this school year?"
"Where did you hear that from?" asked Harry.
She ignored his question.
"Well, if it's true, remind her she will want to retire having seen Gryffindor win the Quidditch cup again, if I can only have my own broom," implored Lizzie.
"Bye Lizzie," chuckled Harry, waving his youngest grandchild away. He pulled the pile of parchment towards him again.
"Grandpa?"
"Hmm?"
"You're going home after your meeting with the headmistress, aren't you?" she asked.
" Yes, I'll floo straight home from her office," he replied.
" My broom is at your place, Grandma Ginny's been looking after it for me. When headmistress Macgonagall gives permission, can you bring it back to school with you tomorrow, please."
As he watched, she smiled endearingly at him again.
He shook his head in resignation, knowing he couldn't resist when Ginny or Lily, or any of his granddaughters looked at him like that.
She grinned, knowingly.
"Give Grandma my love," she told him before leaving.
He picked up his quill, twirling it between his fingers as he thought about the conversation and the task that lay ahead of him.
"Well, it is a stupid rule," he said aloud, " and I'm sure Minerva will want to win the cup one more time before she retires."