A/N: This is somewhat a transition chapter. But there were a tonne of relationships and plot threads I needed to acknowledge, so this is loaded with those! Assume that Harry's still in hospital recovering and is still very much screwed up.

'"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human."'

— Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

"Hey kiddo." Harry smiled, trying to put everything into his expression that he didn't have the words for.

Teddy froze in the doorway. Andromeda looked around behind him. Nodding to Harry, she made a discreet exit.

"I'm not gonna bite." Harry's voice flickered. He'd been told stories of what'd happened. "I'm sorry that I've been nervous about things. I, I hope you don't mind I saw Albus and Lily first? They're tiny and oblivious so it was, ah, easier for me to see them." He was blabbering and saying the wrong things! "Not that I haven't wanted to see you! I just, I'm a bit of a mess."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking at the boy who was still gawking at him.

"Teddy," he breathed out, "I owe you an apology. I hate that I put you through that. I heard about what happened at the funer…" the boy paled further and Harry shut up, not wanting to approach that.

He shakily got out of bed instead. He'd been planning on letting Teddy approach him when he felt comfortable, but the phoenix was singing and Teddy was staring and was it so bad that he wanted to hold his son?

"I'm so sorry about everyth—" Harry began to say miserably, before a small body ran into his arms and started crying.

"Uncle 'arry!" Teddy smooshed him into a hug. Harry quickly kneeled and hugged him back properly, tugging his sobbing head to his chest. "You, you were gone, then a bird, and I, and I—"

"I'm so sorry," Harry mumbled into the hair that was shifting red. He tightened the hug, trying to put every emotion into it. "I love you so much, I never wanted to hurt you."

"You're, you're here now?" Teddy said hopefully, earnestly.

"I'm here now." Harry firmly confirmed. He hoped his hesitation didn't show: was he here now? Not really. Though he desperately wanted to be. He pulled back, shuffling the rainbow-changing hair. "You're a sight for sore eyes," he said with a soft smile. "You've shot up a foot!"

Which was beyond horrible, actually. One baby's grown up so much, another's appeared; Albus was even speaking!

He'd felt like an awful father (Uncle? Pseudo-father? Who even knew, and maybe that was the problem) to Teddy numerous times, but never more than at this moment. He mentally shook his head at his thoughts: father-figure, he had to get this right, he couldn't mess with the kid's head further. Andromeda had custody. Which was wonderful. Teddy was wonderful, he was wonderful, they were all completely wonderful. Just because the stupid phoenix was trilling mournfully didn't mean anything!

Teddy was still sobbing and Harry pulled him back into a tight embrace.

"It went well," Harry said. "Thanks for bringing him, Andy."

Andromeda patted the blanket. "Any time. Teddy's been clamouring to see you. Though, he was enamoured with the phoenix. He was trying to make his hair into feathers for a week!"

Harry smiled weakly. "He's perfect the way he is. He looks good—you both do, but he's grown like mad."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "If it helps, I'm convinced he couldn't wait for his growth spurt and added a few inches himself." Her gaze lightened. "His mother was the same. That is, to an extent. I got quite the shock when my fourteen year old daughter waltzed in with practically melons on her chest!"

Harry snorted. "Seriously?"

"Nymphadora couldn't wait to be 'better endowed'." Andromeda said primly. "In comparison, Teddy's height is tame."

"It might actually be a growth spurt."

Her amusement dwindled to care. "Teddy wants to be taller, that's it." She said reassuringly. "You haven't missed that much."

He glanced away. "People keep telling me that. But then I hold my daughter." He drifted off, not wanting to finish that thought.

A companionable silence settled. It was Andy who broke it.

"Stop me if I'm being insensitive," she said carefully, "but have you given much thought to what you'll do when you're out of hospital?"

He gave a rough laugh. "That's hard to imagine!"

Andy seemed concerned. "Once again, stop me if I'm overstepping."

"You could never overstep."

The witch paused, considering. "I was wondering if you had any thoughts as to returning to the Aurors."

Harry fell silent.

"None of this has been your fault." Andy delicately stressed. "Though, honestly, Teddy was devastated. He's lost so many people in his short life. The thought of losing you terrified him."

"I never meant to scare him."

"Naturally," she easily agreed. "But, going forward, I need to ask…"

"If I'll return to my dangerous job?"

"That is, yes."

Harry glanced back down at the blanket, curling it in his fingers. He'd thought about this before. The thought crept up on him in the deep of night, making him feel even more exhausted. It also kept leading to the same question: why was his life filled with fighting the worst of mankind?

"I became an Auror to make the world a better place." Harry's lips crinkled at the cliche. He'd become more cynical over the years. "I still think that's important. Though? Sometimes it seems like I surround myself with darkness."

He looked up at her properly. "I don't know if I want to go back to the Aurors," he admitted. "I'm not in any hurry to decide, at any rate."

Andromeda hesitated before nodding. "Whatever you do, please be careful. We can't lose you again."

"I'm sorry." Ginny was twirling a bit of her hair, head fidgeting, leg bouncing on her knee. She gulped back something. "I am so, so sorry. I should have mentioned it before, well I did, but you were out of it, not even conscious, so I really didn't."

Oh god, someone had died. Someone had absolutely died. "What's wrong?"

She stared at him, lips opening and closing. She was about to cry. He made to move into a hug but she jerked back, a sob escaping her. "Our daughter! You were missing and I wasn't thinking and, and I knew you didn't want her to be named Lily. I knew that, but I did it anyway. I don't know what possessed me!"

The panic that had risen in his chest batted back down. Harry wasn't sure what she was talking about. Lily? Lily Luna, the precious toddler with a wide grin and a mane of red hair, who'd taken to chirping whenever he held her? "It'll be alright. What's wrong with Lily?"

She scrubbed her eyes, tears leaking out. He became even more concerned: sure his memory was patchy, but his wife had never been the sort to cry. Lily had seemed healthy, absolutely perfect and wonderful. Had he missed something? He pulled Ginny into a hug, her frantic words washing over him. "I named her after your mum! You didn't want that! I, I expressly went against your, your wishes and I, I—"

Memories at last bubbled to the surface. He frowned, still not getting it. She was leaning against him and crying. "Shh, it's okay. It's just a name."

"I, I…what?" Ginny spoke in barely a whisper.

"I was gone for ages." Harry shifted, trying to get them in a more comfortable position. "Of course things would move on. I don't care what Lily's name is, I care that I missed so much time with her."

Was this the truth? He thought so, maybe. The doubt was pushed away at the relief that flooded Ginny's face.

Harry thought he was better on his feet these days. Maybe. He could stand, at any rate. And walk towards the person that—right now—he cared more about than practically anyone in the world.

James was colouring in the corner and was pointedly ignoring him. Ginny had brought in the extremely reluctant boy a little while ago. He'd crossed his arms and looked anywhere but at his dad, and Ginny had made a quick exit after setting him up with some crayons.

Harry tried not to be hurt. As he walked closer the little boy's shoulders tensed, and sweet Merlin, no no no, the phoenix has to shut up! Now was Not the right time to sob and howl in dismay.

Harry took a deep breath, praying his sanity would hold. He knelt by the small table as he watched the colouring. Watched the tiny hands that weren't so tiny. When had his baby grown?

"I think," Harry said tentatively, biting back the phoenix's sob when James winced, "I left off when Norberta was flying to Romania in search of a friend."

James frowned. He reluctantly turned to Harry, confusion across his face. "Wha'?"

"The adventures of Norberta the dragon." Harry sat on the floor, gazing at his hesitant son. "We were in the middle of the bedtime story when I was forced away. Did your mum tell you how it ended?"

James frowned to himself, looking down. His nose trembled like he wanted to cry. "She, she didna know."

Every little piece of Harry wanted to pull his son into the world's biggest hug. But a stupid, logical part of his brain knew his baby would balk at this. The last thing he wanted was to drive him away. "Well that's because Norberta was an old friend of mine. Between you and me? I don't think your mum likes dragons very much."

James gave a tiny smile as some tears started to fall. "Ye'h."

"So." Harry plucked up a crayon and a paper, making a quick sketch of two dragons (if you squinted). "Norberta flew off through the clouds, out past the waves, and eventually made it to Romania. The baby dragon met your Uncle Charlie there, who saw the little dragon and thought she needed a friend. So he introduced her to Hungry!"

"Hungry?" James asked in a small voice.

"Hungry, the Hungarian Horntail. Hungry was a big dragon, one of the biggest! He was also fierce, with big teeth and—"

"But Norberta needed a friend!" James protested. He also looked at Harry for the first time, which made his dad choke up so much that it was a few seconds before he could speak.

"She did." Harry said gently. "Hungry was big but very friendly. He protected the smaller dragons. All the dragons in Romania knew that Hungry was there for them, because he was family. So, Norberta had found a place where she belonged. With lots of dragon friends to have adventures with." He hesitated. "Would you, would you like to hear about their adventures?"

James looked down again, red hair falling in his face. "Dragons breathe fire?"

"They do."

"Do phown—" he frowned, "pweni—"

"Phoenixes?"

"Ye'h. Do they?"

Harry felt more lost than he ever had before. "They don't. Though, they can create fire. It doesn't hurt."

James was silent for a long while. "Mummy said," he began again quietly, "that dad was gone. Then in the ground. Then a bird. Then he was you. I—I don't know what—I just—"

"It's really confusing, huh."

"Ye'h." James sat on the floor beside him, head tucking into hands.

Harry struggled to know what to say. "Baby," he said most softly still, "I didn't want to go away. I hated leaving you, your mum, your brother and…and your sister. I tried so hard to get back to you."

"M'dad's strong!" James cut in, voice louder and more desperate. "He could do it!"

"I couldn't." And wasn't that a truth that ached. "I wasn't strong enough, though I missed you every day. Jamie, I swear it's me." He gently cupped his hands under his son's chin, meeting the tear-filled eyes. "I'm so sorry for what you've been through. But I love you so much and never want to leave you again."

James looked down again. His shoulders were shaking, his lips trembling, and the phoenix was Howling in his head, scratching and clawing to get out, and the only thing he could think of to stop both of them was to reach out for James and bundle him into a hug—which nonoNO what was he doing?! James was scared! He'd freak out! Kids freaked out at hugs and—and—

James was sobbing into his chest.

Harry clutched him tighter still, feeling the hug in every tense muscle. He was relieved, but also mystified. It was best to give upset kids space. Why was his son okay with a huge hug?

The phoenix cawed a very acute 'I told you so'. Harry frowned to himself, completely disagreeing with the touchy-feely bird.

But, James was letting him hug him. James was crying onto him. Things weren't right and things were confusing, but this moment was ridiculously perfect.

"I love you." Because Harry at least knew little kids needed to be told that. "I love you so, so much. I missed you every moment of every day."

James sniffled and might have agreed, but his little hands clutched at Harry's shirt tighter and the crying continued.

It struck him how much this had hurt his family. He'd known this before—but having a kid who'd been mischievous and independent suddenly sob onto his chest spoke mounds. A rush of anger towards the Sweenies swirled in him. He'd been merely terrified of them before, but this was more than enough for hatred to pool.

Ginny was here. They were smooshed together and the phoenix was idly chilling, so all was good. Harry wondered if her freckles had gotten fainter. That was a shame, he liked them. He liked counting them. Liked kissing them. Liked trailing his fingers down the dots and past her belly button and over the curve of her hip bone as she gasped beneath him and her back sharply arched…

But they were just cuddling, for now. He'd missed that too.

He pulled her closer, mulling over something he'd been unsure how to address. "James is acknowledging me."

She beamed at him. "He was over the moon! The moment we'd left hospital he was nagging me about when we could next visit."

"Which is wonderful," Harry quickly said. "But uh, I thought I'd messed things up."

"You clearly didn't."

"No, you see," he tried to explain, "James was upset so I was slowly approaching him—not to scare him, y'know? Then he started crying. The phoenix was also acting up, so I freaked out and hugged him."

There was a beat of silence.

"You think you messed up," Ginny said slowly, clarifying, "by hugging our upset son?"

Harry stared at her. "That's not what I meant. Under normal circumstances, yeah, hug the crying kids. But James was upset At me. I should've kept my distance."

Ginny perched herself up on her elbow, gazing at him. "No, that's when you still hug the kid."

Harry stared right back. "I was convinced I'd made everything worse."

"Kids are stupid," Ginny said simply, still confused. "They don't know what they want. Except that they always want a hug. James was never upset at you. He was upset at the situation and concerned that you weren't You."

"I know," he addressed the last point, "which is exactly why I shouldn't have hugged him."

A slow understanding was entering Ginny's expression. "Oh—yeah, I see it now."

"You do?"

"Yep. Different parenting styles." She snuggled against him, meeting his eyes. "Harry, love. Normally kids don't fear parental / authority figures. Kids trust parental / authority figures."

"Um…"

"Look," she said patiently, "our babies have a loving family. They Know they have a loving family. So hugs from the loving family make them feel better. It's not at all like your childhood."

Harry's brow clenched, thinking Ginny had the wrong end of things. "Authority figures? My childhood? Gin, this has nothing to do with the Dursleys."

"It has everything to do with them."

"It doesn't. See, it's not like I'm uncomfortable with hugs—"

"You are absolutely uncomfortable with them."

"Shush! Look, this is nothing against hugs. I'm saying, why'd James be okay with hugging the person he's afraid of?"

"He isn't afraid of you! He's missed you. So hug the kid."

"I did! I just don't get why he was fine with it."

Ginny sighed. "Then why'd you hug him?"

"Because the barmy phoenix wanted to!"

"Well," she smiled as though she held a secret, "maybe you should listen to the phoenix every now and then."

Ron clicked his tongue. "From 1 to 10, how much d'ya think you can cope with bad news?"

Harry didn't look up. Or hesitate. He kept playing with the blanket, singeing the edges. "Who's dead?"

Ron didn't dwell on why that was a common question, nor that he could answer it positively. But he absolutely wasn't mentioning Susan Bones. "Don't be like that, it's not that bad. You'll just take it hard."

Harry glanced up.

"They ah," Ron swallowed, "from the records, they destroyed your wand. I'm sorry."

Harry looked back down. "Yeah, I know. It's fine."

Ron stared. "Okay then?"

"Am I allowed a wand?"

"Are you allowed a—are you kidding?" Ron's jaw dropped. "Of course you're allowed a wand! I'm getting you to Ollivanders' as soon as you're able. Why'd you think otherwise?"

Harry couldn't meet his gaze. "Don't worry about it. I just don't feel especially human at the moment."

Ron stared. "…you aren't a bird."

"Yeah."

"You aren't a phoenix! Or course you're a human, just a stupid one." Ron gave a strangled groan, tired of this. Though, there were further plasters to rip off. "Look, apart from this? There's kind of more. The Sweenies took your—"

"Wedding ring, glasses, wallet, and," Harry scrunched up his face to remember, "ah right, my Auror badge. They took them from me right at the start."

"Ah," Ron said, bewildered.

He did glance up. "Did you find—"

"I'm sorry, they were all destroyed."

Harry looked back down, eyes closing. "Right. I mean, I knew that, they even snapped my wand in front of me. Fun times." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'd hoped that maybe they'd pawned my ring."

Ron found he had nothing to say. But he forced himself to speak, because he knew Harry. Ripping off the plaster was best for the bloke. "I'm really sorry. From the records, Lestrange melted it."

Harry visibly flinched, fingers pulling into fists. Ron frowned. Was this about the ring? That and the wand? It was natural he'd be upset about them, but he seemed almost scared.

"Could you," Harry stammered out, still not looking at him, "could you not say that?"

"Not say what?"

"I don't like to hear his…" Harry leaned back, breathing through his nose, "I know it's stupid! But I don't, it creeps me out when…I don't wanna hear it."

Ron was more confused than concerned. "It's not stupid. I get it, the whole thing's horrible. I won't mention your wand or ring—"

"Not those!" Harry cut in brusquely, opening his eyes to glare at Ron. "You're going to make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"You know who!"

"What does Voldemort have to do with this?" Ron threw his arms in the air. "I didn't even mention him!"

"The Other you know who!" Harry said in frustration.

Ron was only more confused. "Someone mentioned that to you? Things were pretty messed up with you gone. It became kinda hard to hear your name. But I swear we were only calling you 'You Know Who' because whenever we did Ginny turned a hilarious shade of red."

Harry stared at him, his frown deepening. "What're you talking about?"

Ron blinked. "What're you on about?"

"I'm going to ignore what you just said." Harry shook his head. "I don't want to say the name of the main Sweeney, alright?"

Ron struggled to make sense of this. "Hold up. You—You you—are seriously calling someone 'you know who'? Unironically?"

Harry coughed, glancing away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Harry. Mate, can you even say Lestr—"

"Shut up!"

Ron hesitated, not knowing where to go from here. So he let it drop. "We'll get you to Ollivander's soon."

"Right," Harry said warily.

She was smiling. Beaming. Harry hadn't realised how much he'd missed her.

"Hey you." Harry gave a grin back, one that was barely forced.

Luna gave a squeak and bounded across the room, arms flung wide. She stopped right by the bed with a pause. "Is it—"

Harry opened his arms and Luna happily closed the space, hugging him tightly. "I'm surprised my relatives let you in," he said quietly. Oh, these hugs felt good. "I've only really seen family and Healers. So many Healers. You're a sight for sore eyes."

She gave a hiccuping laugh, pulling back. She plopped down to the bed. "Rolf and I partly count as Healers, I suppose." At his questioning look she continued. "When Ron suspected you were a phoenix, he called in an odd team to investigate it. I was part of a government conspiracy! It was all quite exciting."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He'd heard about this, but apparently had to question his friends further. "You and Rolf?"

"As well as George Weasley, Angelina Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall." She took his hand. "George and Angelina worked on the potion to return you to you. The Headmistress advised on animaguses, I believe you've been seeing rather a lot of her. Rolf and I were in charge of your phoenix form."

He stiffened. "I'm sorry. You did what?"

Luna smiled sadly. "They told me you don't remember."

Of fire and knives and memories fleeing for screams…

Harry winced, pulling away from her. "That's right, I don't remember."

"I see." Her blue eyes gazed into him. "Your phoenix form was badly wounded. Severely malnourished and with extensive scarring. It was so horrendous that you died multiple times in hospital, though were reborn. You reacted well around your 'flock', but flinched or attacked if anyone else came near. You sobbed when I tried to approach, so Ron held you instead." Harry couldn't look at her. "Have you—have you transformed since then? On purpose?"

"No," he bit out.

Luna hesitated. "Harry, I need to know. Your human body is physically recovering, but as I can't check on the phoenix…"

"I'm fine," Harry gritted out through his teeth. He loved Luna, he did. But he couldn't take her bluntness at the moment. Couldn't she be more like the Weasleys, leaving well enough alone? "The dratted 'phoenix' is fine. Though screw him for doing this to me."

Luna blinked. "Him?"

"Him! It! Whatever!"

"This is a part of you."

Harry gave a wrenching laugh, pulling even further away. "I know that much. Here I am, just trying to act human, and that bird won't shut up!"

Luna's eyebrows furrowed.

"No, no!" He pointed at her. "Don't do that. I'm not hearing voices, I'm not crazy like that."

"You aren't crazy," she said softly.

"I'm sick of it!" Harry cried out, beyond caring if it was appropriate. "I don't want the memories. I don't want the phoenix. I don't want to feel like this!"

"Like what?"

"Like…" his voice trailed off. The words he couldn't say to his family were in her understanding expression. "I don't feel human. Not really. Not always. It's exhausting."

Luna nodded, not questioning this.

Ron walked in to Harry gazing at a mirror. "Vain much?"

"Good morning to you too." Harry tilted his head this way and that, frowning at himself.

"Yeah yeah, you're gorgeous." Ron flopped onto the chair, holding up a package coaxingly. "Put that down and guess what I have in here."

He wasn't paying much attention. Instead, his fingers moved around the grooves of scars on his neck.

"Mum's treacle tart!" Ron said. "Come on, it's your favourite thing in the world. So put down the mirror." He trailed off, seeing this was pointless. With a sigh he set the food package on the bedside table. "They might heal."

"They haven't. Nearly everything else has." Harry's voice was strained.

"Who gave you a mirror anyway?" Ron said, a tinge annoyed. "There were explicit instructions not to—to—to bother you." He coughed, awkward.

Harry glanced at him. "Ginny gave me a spare wand. I conjured a mirror. But I could see the scarring in the window; nothing was ever hidden."

"Oh."

Harry swished again at his neck. "How come the other scars have vanished? And my tattoo?"

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

Ron gulped, not wanting to go there. "Phoenixes are reborn. When the Sweenies gave you that potion…we think your original body…this didn't happen with the rest, but the phoenix's the only truly immortal one…I guess maybe the dementor…not that you're immortal, just, well, with all the flames, your old human body…"

"My old body?" Harry asked, before his entire expression drooped. His eyes warily closed. "Ah. I got it."

"You do?" Ron asked uncertainly.

"I'd thought I'd imagined that. Never mind. I guess it was real." Harry shook his head, slightly shivering. "The killing curse scars stayed, though."

"Yeah."

"Fucking figures."

Hermione felt like she needed to handle Harry delicately. Which was a ridiculous notion, to be perfectly honest. Not the 'delicate' part: he was a victim, that's how it went. But for her to 'handle' him? As though he was a puzzle she was trying to decipher? Utterly ridiculous. Yet, here she was. With a question that tip-toed on the taboo line.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Did you, that is, create songs so that the phoenix would remember?"

Harry was amazed. "You're telling me that worked?"

"Phenomenally well."

"Huh." Harry shook his head. "I didn't think they'd stick. I figured it was too much for the crazy bird brain to remember."

She smiled softly. "Two short songs are hardly 'too much'."

He was silent for a weighty moment. "Two songs?"

The meaning hit Hermione. She restrained the urge to hug him. "Yes, two. I'm sorry, were there more?"

"Loads." Harry looked down, sighing. "I guess I should be glad anything got through. I should've mentioned this before, but, well, I've been weird about it. Two, huh? I'm guessing the ones about the potions woman and the bogus prophecy?"

Hermione stared at him.

"Those aren't the ones that got through? Huh. You must know all about those from the Sweenies' records."

She continued to stare.

Harry had by now returned to looking at her, faint amazement over his features. "What two got through?"

"A rhyme containing yours' and your family's names. As well as a summary of the fifteen Sweenies you'd seen. Pardon, what Prophecy?"

"That proves it. The bird's an idiot." He looked at her seriously. "The Sweenies were closer to 30; I think I thought 15 much earlier on. As for the other rhyme? Blimey."

"What Prophecy? What about the potions mistress?"

"The Prophecy's bogus," Harry dismissed. "As for the woman, she's a metamorphamagus who came up with the whole fatal potion."

"Serena Rowle, we know about her. I'm sorry but she got away. We're trying to track her."

Harry looked at her oddly. "Can't be the same one, then." He said uncertainly. "The one I met offed herself."

"Ex—excuse me?!"

"It was shortly before you lot found me." He said shakily. "Les—you know who gathered all the other Death Eaters and, err, creatures, and announced she'd killed herself. If he mentioned her name, I don't remember. It's all fuzzy."

Hermione felt her thoughts scatter. Her jaw might be dropping, she wasn't sure. She grappled onto something that she could surely dismiss. "I see. I don't, but I see. What Prophecy?"

"This really wasn't in their records?"

"Harry."

"Alright." Harry wrinkled his brow, trying to remember. "Uh—hold up—I know this. But ignore the meaning and don't freak out, I'm sure this is nonsense. Okay?"

"Okay." She said hesitantly, still on the previous point. Serena Rowle was dead?

He took a breath. "'When spares are spared, when time is turned, when unseen children murder their fathers, will the dark lord return.'" Her jaw was properly dropping. But before she could speak, he was frowning. "Or no. Nah, that wasn't it. Uh…"

"Harry," Hermione said weakly, "what was that?"

"A nonsense Prophecy." Harry scratched his ear. "Which I think I'm getting wrong. I repeated 'spare' too much? It was definitely about a Dark Lord returning. But, was it 'children' doing the murdering? It wasn't time turning, I think. Minds turning? That makes more sense?"

Hermione took a deep breath. Then another. She thought of the big Prophecy and struggled with a third breath, so she forced herself to think of Sibyll Trelawney. Of the ridiculousness of Divination. How 99% of it was a con, and how Rodolphus Lestrange was hardly a reliable source. She even thought about Harry's nebulous mental state and his uncertainty of the wording. Feeling slightly calmer, she switched back to the timely issue. "That's…disturbing. I'll search the Hall of Prophecies. Until then?" She sent him a serious look. "You're sure a metamorphamagus potions mistress killed herself?"

Harry looked less certain. "That's only what I heard."

"There's 30 Sweenies?"

"At least."

Ron inclined his head, speculating the other man. "Anyone ever told you that you aren't that impressive in person?"

"No." The man replied simply. He sat in an Azkaban uniform, bound securely, and acting calm in the interrogation room. "I'm afraid that would've gotten their throat cut."

"Right boogeyman, you are." Ron scoffed. "Enough with the formalities, I don't care. You're the dying breath of a messed up regime. I'm honestly annoyed we have to give you a trial."

Rodolphus Lestrange's eyebrows arched. "I thought you were all for equality and justice."

"That's m'wife." Ron corrected him. "I'm more of the, 'let's jump into danger and do something reckless', type of person. Which is why I'm here. You have some answers I need."

"There's no cure for—"

"Shut up," Ron dismissed him. Lestrange twitched before collecting himself. "All the survivors are doing peachy, there's no need for a cure."

"But Mr. Potter—"

"Is acting weirdly warm and sentimental, which wow. If anything, you cured him of a few phobias!" Ron relished the look on Lestrange's face. So what if he was massively inflating the truth? "Nah, I'm curious about something else. So you decided to murder a bunch of people. That, I get. What I don't get is why a Pureblood supremacist would experiment to mesh people with magical creatures. Aren't you supposed to be against 'half-breeds'?"

"Half-breeds and other creatures are inferior to humans." Lestrange simpered. "Yet, there are aspects to them which are valuable. I never claimed that people couldn't be improved. So if humans could have venom as poisonous as dragons, or gain a phoenix's immortality? My my, that is something to strive for."

"Huh." Ron clicked his tongue, considering this. "Oh-kay then, you're about as boring as I thought you'd be."

Lestrange twitched. "Pardon?"

Ron chuckled. "Come on, I guessed that ages ago! I was hoping your MO was more impressive. But nah, whatever. Also wow, letting Serena Rowle take all your glory? That must hurt."

"Rowle was behind every—"

"I know, shut up." Ron held up a hand as Lestrange exhaled in barely concealed anger. "You're her lackey. I'm just saying, you swallowed your pride like nothing I've ever seen. You'll give her your crowning achievement, just on the off-chance that it'll get you out of Azkaban?"

His eyes narrowed. "If you think I'll confess—"

"Blimey, I don't care!" Ron flung his hands up. "I just think you're whacked. You're giving it all up like that? Gifting Rowle your achievements? Or maybe you offed her, I could see that.""

Lestrange opened his mouth before freezing.

Ron shrugged. "Tell us, don't tell us, I don't care. We'll figure out the truth."

Hermione talked when she got nervous. Harry fidgeted and played with his hair when nervous. Ron…certainly did something when nervous. Which was why it was so weird that the three of them were sitting here, stock still, awkwardly not doing anything.

It was the first time just the three of them had been together in eons, and it felt entirely wrong. Ron took a breath and decided he'd had enough. "This is weird. Why's it weird?"

Harry deflated and began fidgeting with the blanket. "Dunno. We're a weird bunch."

"The weirdest," Hermione nodded. "What did Hagrid once call us, a band of misfits?"

"Misfits we are." Ron smiled at his wife. Then at Harry for good measure, though the man didn't glance up. "Moody, adorable, and stubborn to boot!"

Harry wouldn't meet their gazes. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"You know," Ron tried again, seeing as Hermione was on the verge of tears, "I always thought the name the press had for us was bonkers. 'Golden Trio', hah! Like we're golden. But, I guess, it's not a bad thing to strive to. Out to make the world a shinier place?"

It occurred to Ron that 'rambling when nervous' was his thing.

Thankfully, Hermione spoke up. "A trio," she said softly. "That's the important part. To rely on and lean on one another. But you know the funny thing about trios? When one's missing, there's a gaping hole."

Ron winced before nodding. "It gets so completely broken, you wouldn't believe it. But that's the thing, eh? That broken stuff can be repaired?"

Harry looked up at last, meeting their gazes with red-rimmed eyes. "There's no," he coughed, "there's no troll this time."

"Isn't there?" Hermione asked instead. "Only, this time, it's not attacking me."

Ron turned and sat on the bed, patting the blanket lump that was Harry's knee. "I'm ready to levitate clubs. But I'm warning you now: I'm not sticking my wand up any troll nostrils."

Harry gave a choking laugh.

"Or maybe," Hermione said, "what we need is chocolate to keep away the dementors."

"Or a trio to defeat Voldemort," Harry said quietly.

"Or a rooster to banish the basilisk." Ron stretched. "After all, we already have a phoenix."

Harry just blinked at him. His shoulders hunched over further. "That's the problem, isn't it." His words fumbled, hands fluttering over the blanket. "Why this is weird. I'm not me anymore, we all know it."

Ron felt a rush of anger. "Don't be stupid—"

"I'm not." Harry sounded more defeated than anything. Stretched out. Exhausted from head to toe. Ron's sentence trailed off. "What if I'm not really human?"

"Of course you're human," Hermione said reassuringly. Ron silently thanked her for the common sense. "You've gone through enormous trauma, that's all. You're healing."

Harry looked up. The exhaustion was more clearly etched on his face. Ron wondered if it'd always been there. The younger man gave a lopsided smile that was anything but happy. "Sure I am."

Dudley seemed awkward in the chair. Harry supposed he must seem awkward too. While the bedside chair made his cousin seem even larger, this normal bed surely made himself look tiny. Or, maybe they were simply awkward blokes. He was still confounded to hear the man had visited him in hospital a few times.

"You need more of those?" Harry gestured at the white key Dudley had tossed onto the small table, for lack of anything better to say.

Dudley jumped. Harry didn't blame him, he was also surprised they were talking. "Heh? The key things? Nah, we have plenty." He shifted. "They come in handy though, thanks for them. Renée loves them for uni conferences. They make traveling to London a snap."

Harry supposed they would. But he'd only given the Dursleys so many portkeys before he'd been kidnapped. "You aren't running out of them?"

"Your mate gave us more." Dudley stopped. At Harry's stare he elaborated. "Ron Weasley? The chap came to visit a time or two. He's how we knew you were back, or gone in the first place. And that you were, ah," he waved vaguely, "other stuff."

Harry's mouth pinched at that. Ron? Ginny or Hermione informing his relatives, he could see. But Ron? Going up to Edinburgh, not hexing Dudley, having a drink or three at his pub?

He could actually picture that. Were Ron and Dudley drinking buddies now? Good lord.

"Renée and Cassie want to visit again," Dudley was saying. "But I thought it best for you and me to talk over some things first. Y'know, awkward stuff. Family stuff."

Absolutely no. There were only three Dursleys Harry could stand (one of them, just barely) and Dudley clearly wasn't talking about them. "Family stuff?" He repeated warily.

Dudley didn't quite look at him. "Some things y'have to understand," he said gruffly, "is we were told you were missing. Then dead. We ah, we went to the funeral."

Harry looked down at the blanket. "I'm sorry about that. I hope Cassie's okay."

"She's fine." Dudley said quickly. "You're back now, she's cool. The problem is…? I told my parents."

Harry looked back up, expression creasing. That was it? "Okay?" He said in confusion. "I guess your dad got a nasty surprise when it turned out I was alive. What's the problem?"

Dudley winced at something, still not looking at him. "Jesus mate, it's not m'dad."

"Your mum?" Harry remained confused. "I don't imagine she's thrilled either."

"Mum went to your funeral!" Dudley exclaimed at last, looking at his stunned expression. "She sat in the back, properly sobbing. Then when I was driving her after it's like words were pouring outta her. I'd never heard anything about my aunt before, but suddenly mum was crying about this and that and—"

"Hold up!" Harry exclaimed. "Aunt like, not Marge? Your mum was talking about my mum?" A nod. "Without being forced? Like, by torture?"

"Yeah!" Dudley looked vindicated. "Renée insisted my mum was grieving her sister through you, which is rubbish."

Harry completely agreed. "That's mental."

"Thank you!" Dudley nearly cheered. "Renée has no idea how weird this is."

"Is your mother," Harry hesitated, "well, is her head okay?"

Dudley seemed vindicated. "That is exactly what I wanted her to do: get checked by a doctor. But my wife thinks it's normal grieving."

"No," Harry shook his head, "your mother's gone crazy. She seriously told you stories about my mum?"

"It was unreal." Dudley hesitated. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for hearing about her. The family I never knew, eh? But my mum's obviously gone psycho."

"Obviously," Harry full-heartedly agreed. "Say Dud, out of morbid curiosity, what was the reaction to me being not-dead?"

"'bout what you'd expect. Dad snorted and kept eating. Mum looked like she was going to say something, but sniffed instead. She said it was just like you to make everyone worry."

Harry paused. "Maybe I'm reading this wrong," he said slowly, "but by 'everyone' did she mean what I think she meant?"

"That she was worried about you? Ye-ep. That's what's so damn weird." Dudley sighed. "I know we don't talk about this—well, we don't talk. But the moment Cassie showed she had magic we pretty much broke things off with them. They don't wanna have a granddaughter? Fine, we don't need them. So this mess had me talking with them more than I have in ages. My dad's the same as ever, and so's my mum kind of. Though it's like deep down she'll almost admit you're human."

Harry sat back. "The funny thing is, I'm now not entirely human. What with the whole bird thing." He gave Dudley a sympathetic look. "They're still ignoring Cassie?"

Dudley likewise leaned back in the too-small chair. "Did I ever tell you," he said, "that they blame Renée for it? No 'nasty magic' could come from their family, after all."

"Cause my mum and I don't exist," Harry said easily.

"Yup." Dudley popped the p. Then paused for a heartbeat. "Listen, I'm not on good terms with my parents and I'm pretty sure my mum doesn't want to visit you. But she was properly crying during the funeral." He fidgeted. "I get it if you tell her to shove off. But when you're feeling better…if you want her number…?"

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. "Maybe."

Dudley nodded. He then brightened, sending Harry a smirk. "Oh! I also now have embarrassing stories about you Potters."

Harry stared. "What?"

"My mum going mental and telling stories about your mum, remember?" Dudley said eagerly. "I'm telling you, these were gold! Because guess which pair of sisters decided jumping off Tower Bridge was a good idea?"

Harry choked on air. "No!"

"Yes! Our prepubescent mums took the nursery rhyme seriously and thought the bridge was falling down. So they decided to beat the rush and jump in the Thames themselves!"

"Are you having me on?"

"I'm only getting started." Dudley leaned forward eagerly.

"Are you going to go through?"

Draco Malfoy looked up from the flames, startled from his thoughts.

"You've been swaying on the threshold all day." His mother entered the living room, a tight note in her expression. Almost as though she was concerned. "Do use the Floo Powder first, though." She finished drily.

Draco blinked away back to the flames. "I've been considering whether or not to floo," he said sourly. But he then hesitated. "Or rather, I want to leave. Though it—but it—" he gave a strangled noise, hand messing up his hair, "I've been trying all bloody month!"

"Don't swear, dear."

"This deserves swearing." He turned back to her, eyes wild. "How strong was the spell?"

"I don't know what you—"

"I can't even leave if I have the intention to speak of it!"

Narcissa deflated, at once understanding. "I see."

"You see? You truly see?"

"Of course I do!" She snapped, just as annoyed. "Or have you thought I haven't tried to tell someone? The sheer irony that it is the one thing I would contact my sister about, so I'm unable to speak to her."

Draco huffed, turning back to the fireplace. There was a sigh from behind him.

"I don't have another reason to contact her," she admitted. "Though, I have heard the curse can be tricked."

"Oh?"

"If you have a different reason to go." Narcissa lightly touched his shoulder. "I believe you've sent an owl to the Ministry."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That was about something wholly different."

"But it was addressed to Weasley, was it not? What if you stepped into the floo with the intention of following up on the message?"

He wasn't appeased. "I doubt that'd work. The message was my insistence that my name be kept out of everything. I also asked about…about…" he trailed off in thought. "Actually, that might work."

Her fingers left his shoulders. "Tell me if you get around it." She tossed back as she strolled away. "If you do, let them know I'd care for her."

"Of course." Draco looked down, breath quickening. Could this work?

Holding onto the different reason, he grabbed hold of the floo powder and managed to toss it into the fire. With a grim look of satisfaction, he stepped into the hearth.

"The Ministry of Magic's Atrium."

Draco Malfoy whirled away within the green fire.

Ron stared at the person in front of him.

If Draco Malfoy had been anyone else, his slight movement would've been a fidget. "I've been patient."

"I admit, you have been." Ron fiddled with a quill, this entire conversation surreal. "Your curt letter was a breath of fresh air compared to my stalker friends. Like you asked, we've kept your name out of it. I don't understand why, but no one will know you had anything to do with the rescue operation." He sighed, hating what he was about to say. "Look Malfoy, I can't stand you. But your info did lead to the victims, whether you knew it or not. If you'll let me talk to the Wizengamot—"

"I didn't do anything," Malfoy said bluntly, "and I don't want anyone to know of my even partial involvement. Continue to not say a damn word to anybody." He looked pained at his next words. "Yet, I am glad of the outcome. I'm mainly here about the second question in my letter."

"Right. That." Ron let out a breath. "Harry isn't having visitors. Like, any visitors. This isn't a slight against you: Harry's currently super insane. The phoenix whimpers or attacks nearly anyone who isn't family. If you walk into the room, you might be shish-kabobbed."

Malfoy frowned. "Shish—"

"Muggle food. It's a cooked meat. You don't want to resemble a shish-kabob."

"Ah." Malfoy accepted this. Ron wished his friends could be anywhere near as calm. Then he kinda hated himself for thinking that. "Do let me know when Potter's in his right mind."

"Will do, Malfoy."

He leaned forward, scowling. "Also, don't tell a soul I've been in contact."

"Paranoid much? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Ron paused, realising their conversation had been much too civil. "To be clear? I still hate your guts."

"The feeling's mutual." Draco stopped, now truly fidgeting in his seat. "There's something else. Did you—did you—"

"Spit it out, Malfoy."

The other man gave a shudder, looking more perturbed as he kept trying to speak. "Weasley—I can't—"

Ron continued to be annoyed at Malfoy, before the true situation hit him. "Oh! Unbreakable vow?"

Draco started, shocked enough that he stopped trying to say whatever it was. He didn't nod or shake his head, but Ron got the gist.

"Don't worry about it. I work in law enforcement, this is massively common." Ron waved away Malfoy's silent question. "It's like we're playing charades everything we get a whistleblower." If he was being honest with himself, he kind of liked those cases. He felt sorry for the victim, but it made for an interesting puzzle. "First up, let's figure out how strong this curse is. You haven't dropped dead for trying to tell me, so yay! That means you're just incapable of saying it. We always prefer that type."

Draco glared at him, keeping his mouth clearly shut.

"Just trying to dispel the tension." Ron eyed him for a moment. Malfoy was sweating and seemed perturbed. The wizard wasn't a good actor: he was being serious. That he was trying to tell Ron meant this was something important. "Okay mate," his voice softened a touch, "let's take this slow. If you want to answer 'yes' to my question, try to say the thing you can't say. For 'no', say nothing. If you ever feel like you're gonna die, stop. Alright?"

Malfoy nodded stiffly, his discomfort clear.

"Is this curse usually harmful to you?"

He didn't open his mouth.

"You're physically incapable of saying what you want to?"

Draco tried to say something before shuddering, fingers clasped at his throat.

"Alright, I've got you." Ron leaned back in his seat. "This thing you can't say. Will it result in immediate harm to yourself or to anyone else?"

Malfoy didn't move.

"Will it result in future harm?"

Malfoy looked uncertain but didn't open his mouth. Ron took heart from that. He then asked the two obvious questions.

"Does this have to do with Rodolphus Lestrange?"

A strangling sound as Draco made weird noises, nearly coughing out his throat.

"Okay! I get it, don't hurt yourself." Ron shifted uneasily. "Does this have to do with Harry Potter?"

There was silence as Malfoy settled down. That was something, the Head Auror figured.

"About Lestrange," Ron asked, "was he the one who put this curse on you?"

Silence.

He was surprised by that. "Was it Serena Rowle?"

Silence.

"Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Continued silence. Draco was looking at him like he was an idiot.

"Marcus Flint?"

"For Merlin's sake." Malfoy gritted out, again massaging his throat. "Get to it! My head's beyond—beyo—sore." He choked out the last words.

"I'm trying to." Ron frowned, puzzling it out. "Was it Narcissa Malfoy?"

Silence. Yet, there was a hinting gleam in Draco's expression.

"Lucius Malfoy?"

A gargling noise came from Malfoy before he shuddered again, shutting up.

"Your family's messed up." Ron neatly side-stepped how his brothers had once tried to put him under an Unforgivable Vow. The gits. "Your father put you under the Vow and it relates to Rodolphus Lestrange. Is it something concerning the Sweeney crime spree?"

Silence.

"Is it about Lestrange's war crimes in the '90s?"

Silence.

"Is it about any of Lestrange's crimes?"

Silence. Ron's brow creased, confused. He tried to muse it out. Lucius had been Rodolphus' brother-in-law, Draco was Rodolphus' nephew. It was possible this near family knew about Lestrange's crimes. But Draco and his mother had been thoroughly interrogated. Furthermore, Draco had come to him trying to break the Vow. He had no reason to lie about this relating to Lestrange.

"Is it about your family?" Ron half-heartedly tried. He was startled when this elicited the loudest choke yet from Malfoy as he made gibberish noises. "It's about your family. What about—"

"I can't," Draco Malfoy gasped out, doubling over in his seat. "Merlin I, I can't. I can barely, barely breathe."

Ron frowned as he grabbed an empty glass. "Aquamenti." He silently handed the full glass to Malfoy, who started chugging the water. It didn't matter that the water would soon vanish. For now, it was helping his parched throat.

The Head Auror glanced away, giving the struggling wizard a semblance of privacy. This was a strong Unbreakable Vow. He didn't think the man was faking it: Malfoy had come to him, without any reason to. Either this was an incredibly elaborate plot, or Malfoy truly wanted to say the secret.

Ron wasn't about to question him further. Whatever the secret was, it wasn't going to result in direct harm to anyone, and it didn't have to do with Lestrange's crimes. Moreover, he didn't want to actually kill Draco Malfoy. The man was insufferable, but he could grudgingly (occasionally) be somewhat alright. Basically, the bloke was trying to do the right thing. Ron wasn't about to punish him for it.

On the other hand, if this was an elaborate plot? He could always hex Malfoy later.

A/N: What the Unbreakable Vow's about? Massive "Cursed Child" spoilers! But basically, I figure that Draco Malfoy must know about his cousin, seeing as how he was living with Bellatrix Lestrange when she gave birth to Delphini. So he knows that Rodolphus Lestrange came for Delphi after the war. He knows that Bellatrix claimed Delphi's father was Voldemort. He's aware Rodolphus has been raising the kid—and when he heard that Rodolphus was captured, he wanted to know if his cousin had also been found.

I imagine that both Draco and Narcissa care about Delphini. But Lucius would have been more afraid of Rodolphus, so would've put them both under Unbreakable Vows to never speak about the girl. While Draco knows the early story and Ron knows about the child's bedroom, neither can connect these to the missing child.

Oh and, assume Lucius died sometime previously. If I said otherwise earlier in the story, please ignore that!