12.2 Harry: The Ultimate boon

Seeing your child off to Hogwarts for the first time was always nerve-wracking. For most families it was a tradition of sorts to all go together, but Harry had decided it was best to leave Luna at home this time. She was an empathetic girl, and he didn't want her to see just how much of a mess he was.

Sherry could tell Harry was a mess, too, the difference being that he didn't really care. "I'm going to be fine, dad," he said in a perfect imitation of a moody teen. "Tell Luna to look after Medusa for me, or I'll smite her."

"No smiting, dear," Mycroft said, patting Sherry's shoulder. Eurus had done an ageing ritual which had caused Sherry to grow almost as tall as them. According to Eurus this was normal, and while Harry didn't trust her as far as he could throw her, he did trust that Sherry knew enough about dark magic rituals not to get screwed over.

"I'm going now," Sherry said. "See you at Christmas."

He swivelled and marched onto the train, with his enchanted luggage marching right after him.

"He's going to murder someone, I'm sure of it," Myrcoft muttered, pressing his face into Harry's hair. "They'll be sending him home with a letter saying he destroyed the castle, there's no more Hogwarts, good luck giving your sociopath a rounded education at home."

"Mycroft," Harry said, "We've already given him a well-rounded education at home. He's technically seventeen now. The only reason he's off to school is because he wants to get a foot in the political door." They both weren't sure whom he was trying to reassure. "Anyway, I'm glad he's decided to go with the Black name. Having him running around next year doing Merin-knows-what to the Potter name would have made me a bit uncomfortable."

Once it was clear Sherry was too snooty to wave out the train window, Harry apparated them home feeling exasperated, fond, and anxious in equal parts.

Sherry had a packed lunch and his robes were charmed in case he hit another growth spurt. Surely, he'd be fine.

Of course, nobody had said anything about Harry waiting until Christmas to see him next. That evening, he apparated up to Scotland and climbed down the tunnel of the Shrieking Shack. Whomp, the Willow, didn't even notice him as he slunk past wearing Death's own invisibility cloak.

Harry trailed into the school behind the last stragglers who'd just finished climbing out of their Thestral-drawn carriages. He doubted Sherry would bother to write home with the result of his sorting, and while Mycroft had said Slytherin was a foregone conclusion Harry wanted to make sure.

.oOo.

The first years were just coming in from the antechamber as Harry made his way up towards the front of the hall. They looked so small standing there. It was hard to believe he'd been that small once too, waiting for his turn to sit under the hat, chanting not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Black, Aries, seventh year transfering from Durmstrang," was one of the first names to be called. He'd looked silly standing next to the firsties anyway. There was some curious whispering amongst the pureblood children well-enough versed in their family trees to know a new of-age Black heir was a bit unexpected. Sherry looked like he didn't care one whit, and hat didn't even brush his hair before calling out SLYTHERIN.

There was polite applause as Sherry found himself a seat at the end of the table. Just like Harry had done all those years ago, he spent the rest of the sorting studying the teachers sat up at the head table.

Sininastra and Flitwick were off on one end, chatting between bouts of applause from behind their silencing charm. Trellawney and Vector were turned away from each other like they'd just had an argument. Filch and Hagrid off on the far side were drinking from their goblets in a way that made it clear they weren't having pumpkin juice.

Snape looked impossibly young, though he had the same sneer that he'd worn when Harry had known him. Hopefully, it'd finally be his last year teaching potions for Hogwarts. Beside him Pomona was taking the sorting very seriously, just like McGonagall.

And there in the middle of the table, sat Albus Dumbledore, who was occasionally squinting through his glasses at where Harry was standing, and occasionally staring at the empty seat that had to be the Defence professor's. Harry moved closer, trying to ignore the way Dumbledore's eyes were almost following him.

The sorting ended, dinner was served, and the Defence professor quietly let himself through the door to the antechamber. Harry, who had just nicked a bread roll, had to silence his own coughing fit.

That sandy blond hair and beard, the skinny frame, and those blue, blue eyes were unmistakable. Gellert Grindelwald took his place to Dumbledore's right and smiled at the man. His eyes then flickered over to where Harry was standing, because of course the two people who were sensitive to the Deathly Hallows had to be sat at the head table.

They didn't even look like they were arguing. Albus was pretending everything was normal and fine. Gellert had always been a charmer, and was using the skill to chat up Minerva. Harry gnawed on his bread roll and watched, waiting for something to happen. Waited for someone to acknowledge the Dark Lord in their midst.

Over at the Slytherin table, Sherry seemed to be making friends just fine.

In retrospect, this was probably why Mycroft had been so worried about sending Sherry to Hogwarts. Harry had thought it'd be schoolyard battles and a bit of back-and-forth with Dumbledore that Sherry had been craving, but this was on a whole other level.

He grabbed himself a bit of treacle tart when dessert was served. Once he'd given up on finding out anything new from watching Gellert and Albus talk amiably over dinner, he headed down to the dungeons.

He grabbed Sherry from the passing crowd of firsties when they walked past, pulling his son out of foot traffic and under his invisibility cloak.

"You knew this was happening," he hissed.

"Dad, I literally told you I wanted to come to Hogwarts to be closer to the UK's political nexus. What did you think I was planning?"

"I dunno, Sherry, but not this. This is a Dark Lord we're talking about. What was Albus thinking?" Harry shook his head. "He's mad. If I could, I'd take you right back home with me."

"Dad, I can handle Grindelwald. There's still the curse on the DADA position. And you said it yourself, there's literally a prophecy involved."

"Sherry, do I have to remind you what happened last time you put stock in a prophecy?"

His son had the decency to wince. "Sorry."

Harry wanted to run up to the headmaster's office, grab Albus by his star-speckled collar and shake him over the balustrade of his ivory tower until he came to his senses.

Not one, but two Dark Lords in a school. Hogwarts was meant to be a place of learning.

"Dad, I promise I'll be careful. Please, trust me?"

His son's eyes were wide. Harry didn't give a shit.

Harry sighed. "If you get yourself killed, I'll bring you back and murder you myself."

"No threatening people with murder," Sherry said, smiling. "It's a family rule, remember?"

He did not duck out of the way when Harry ruffled his hair. "I know you can take care of yourself, but if you're in over your head you can always ask me for help, alright?"

"Yes, Dad."

Some days, Sherry pulled off the unimpressed teenager so well that Harry believed it was real. "Here, take this." Harry unclasped the invisibility cloak and set it around Sherry's shoulders. "Maybe it can help keep you safe. Use it well."

"Yes, Dad," Sherry said, but his eyes were bright as he stroked a finger over the water-spun fabric. "If I promise I'll write, will you please leave now?"

Harry wanted to go to the Defence Professor's classroom on the second floor and take Gellert Grindelwald by the lapels of his velvet coat and shake him until the change fell out of his pockets.

"I'm already going," Harry said.

But first, he made his teenage son endure a goodbye hug.

.oOo.

"Did you know Gellert Grindelwald is teaching Defence at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked as he climbed into bed beside his husband.

Mycroft yawned. "Of course," he said, "didn't you?"

Sighing, Harry rolled onto his side to glare at him. "We're not all geniuses in this family. I promise, if I'd known I wouldn't have just let Sherry go like that."

"I'll take it Sherry's in Slytherin, then?"

"Is there anything else you've deduced that you'd like to tell me before we go to bed?" Harry didn't growl, but it was a near thing. He'd wanted an interesting life, yes, but sometimes he wanted his boring, predictable reality back where he knew all the Dark Lords and Light Lords were dead and buried.

Well, Voldemort had technically dissolved into ashes. It had saved them that particular funeral, and it had slimmed down the number of crazies attempting resurrection rituals.

"Do you know where good old Bellatrix is, then?"

"According to my deductions, she's back in the Austrian alps," Mycroft said easily.

"And according to your intelligence?"

"MI6 reported she'd been seen buying natal vitamins in a chemist in Kitzbuhel and a pram in Salzburg."

"Merlin, Mycroft." Harry flopped down into his pillow. "Never a dull moment, eh?"

He leaned into Mycroft's hands carding through his hair. "We're making the world a better place, my love."

Harry swallowed. They'd been married for years, and he knew Holmses were different about how they felt their affections. After all this time, he'd never thought he'd hear something so close to those infamous three words. "Good night, Mycroft," he said, curling himself around his husband in a hug.

Over by the window, the bed he'd transfigured finally ran out of magic. They fell asleep to the sound of a duvet falling to the ground.

.oOo.

"It'd be a lie to say this was entirely unexpected," Augusta Longbottom said, settling herself behind the Minister of Magic's desk. "Still, it's come as a bit of a surprise to be here so soon."

"The best I'd hoped for was next election season," Amelia Bones said, sitting on the chair across from their new Minister. "I'm glad, though."

Mycroft and Sherry had predicted Fudge would be impeached and out of office by the end of the year, and Harry had never doubted their accuracy. "I'm glad, too," Harry said, taking the other seat beside Amelia. "Now, before we get out the glasses and toast to the end of Cornelius' time as Minister, I think it'd be a good idea to hear Unspeakable Longbottom's proposal. Augusta, you know how important his latest project has been."

"Yes, yes," Augusta said, digging through the desk drawers. "I've just moved in, but I did bring the crockery."

Harry shot off a Patronus and accepted a glass of port. Even after a decade, he knew better than to drink around Augusta—she had a mind that could keep up with a Holmes.

Amelia and Augusta were a measure in when they heard the knock. "Algie dearest, come in, come in. Have a glass."

"Augusta, I'm working," he said, and Harry was glad he wasn't going to make his memory even worse with alcohol. He straightened and cleared his throat. "Harry asked me to present this to you. It is the pinnacle of our ponderings, a masterpiece of much mechanical manipulation, an advancement, an achievement, quite amazing, you'll be astonished."

Augusta poured them all another drink and leaned back with the air of someone who had been listening to Algerius talk for as long as she'd been alive.

Amelia, bless her, had a child waiting for her at home. "Very impressive," she said. "Could you summarise it for me in a single sentence?"

"I—" Algerius closed his mouth. He reached into his pocket, elbow-deep, and pulled out what looked like a large black rubik's cube. "The camera-scrabbler runic matrix serves as an Obliviate spell that can be transferred through the muggle digital screen. It spreads through technology with a method similar to a computer virus."

"Technically, that was two sentences," Amelia said.

"Holy shit," Harry said. He reminded himself it wasn't useful to gape. "Holy shit," he said again anyway. "You did it. That's huge. Incredible. I wasn't expecting that."

"Mister Potter, you literally gave the Department of Mysteries the mission to work on this."

"Yeah, but I wasn't expecting you to actually manage. If it does what you said it does, that's bloody brilliant."

"Quite." Algerius straightened his spine. "The Department of Mysteries works in service of the Realm and—"

"Apologies, I don't follow," Minister Augusta said, smacking her lips and putting her glass aside. "If you would, Harry?"

"The muggles have been developing recording devices, sort of like moving photographs." he said, trying to ignore how disappointed Algerius looked about being interrupted. "They've been using this technology for security, as in there are cameras capturing images of the streets where wizards might be apparating in and out."

Amelia nodded. "Our Obliviators weren't being alerted on time, and they had at times made a bigger mess of things by obliviating the memory but not destroying the film or camera."

Augusta steepled her fingers. "I see," she said. "So, this invention solves a problem I didn't even know we had."

"This is very important," Algerius said. "Harry had told us it had the utmost priority."

"That's the part I don't understand." Amelia turned on Harry. "How come you're giving directives to the Department of Mysteries, anyway?"

Internally, Harry groaned. Externally, he put on his most polite smile and sunk himself into his role. "Let's not worry about that for now," the Ministry of Magic replied.

"Yes," Augusta nodded slowly. Her eyes glazed over and she turned back to her brother. "Are there any side effects?"

"The spell spreads like the pox, from one device to another. If someone develops a device that has had no contact with any other devices, it'll be difficult to infect."

"We don't need to worry about that," the Ministry of Magic said. "The number of cameras is going to explode, and don't get me started on the internet."

"Let's not worry about that," Amelia said, almost as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. "We need to know if there's a risk for magicals. Does this obliviating cube thing target the machines, the muggles in contact with the machines, or both?"

"After extensive testing, we managed to eliminate the side effects in this final product."

Harry blinked. He wondered if that was why Algerius had so many problems remembering things. On the other hand, Harry could never remember about the Department of Mysteries properly either. There were things on a need-to-know basis that Harry was honestly glad the Magics had decided he didn't need to be involved with.

"Excellent." Augusta topped up herself and Amelia's glass, then poured one for her brother. "It seems we have more than my own new office to celebrate, then. A toast to a better future that we'll be helping to create."

Harry smiled and finally nipped at his port, letting the sound of the conversation wash over him just like the sound of his people was washing over him.

A happy, bubbling stream, chattering along.

And in the distance, a sound like someone was tossing several boulders into the current, each with a resounding splash.

.oOo.

"I want to do Christmas here," Luna said.

Harry looked at her. He wanted to sweep her up into a hug, but he knew she wasn't ready for that. Over the past six months she'd warmed up to them some—since her mum's death she'd become very wary and slow to trust.

"I think that's a lovely idea," Harry said. "Who do you think should come?"

The nine-year-old blinked her blue eyes slowly. "Eurus, and Joan to keep her Nargles away. Sherry, and you, and me and Mycroft…"

"What about Sirius and your dad? It's up to you, love."

She hummed. "I suppose. I want Mr. Blainbridge to do the cooking. Or maybe Mrs. Weasley."

"I think they'll be with their own families this Christmas. We'll have to do our own cooking, Luna. You can help me, or we can order from Alfredo's?"

"Pizza for Christmas dinner? That's—you can't do that!" Then, Luna laughed. "Yes, why not? We should have Pizza and maybe we can make some brownies on boxing day. Or Plimpy soup."

"It's a bit cold for fishing." Harry still wasn't sure exactly what was in Plimpy soup, and wasn't sure if he was ready to find out.

"Alright," Luna said. She turned on her heel and skipped away.

Harry sighed and went to send out invitations to Xeno, Eurus and Joan. Sirius would be there, like he always was, whether Harry invited him or not. If they were lucky the worst he'd do would be bombarding Sherry with questions of the pranks he'd pulled off so far.

.oOo.

"And then, the tiger jumped down from the rafters and pounced on his back," Sherry was saying, gesturing wildly. "Grindelwald jumped so hard and Bang! He detransfigured it."

"In all our years at Hogwarts, we never once thought to set a tiger on our Defence Professor," Sirius said, his voice full of admiration. "Where did you even get the idea?"

"Oh," Sherry shrugged. "It sounded like something you would have done, and I'm trying to convey a certain facade for Dumbledore's sake.

Mycroft didn't snort into his eggnog, but it was a near thing. "Harry and I were summoned to the Headmaster's office over that stunt, Sherry. If you wanted to play the role of the lovable prankster, you shouldn't have transfigured the tiger from an acromantula."

"It's not like he doesn't know how to deal with an acromantula," Sherry grumbled. "And I earned the house points back within a week. Slytherin House threw me a party, you should have seen it."

Harry smiled. He went to the kitchen to get the fresh baked chocolate biscuits out of the oven. He passed by Luna and Eurus, who were in deep conversation about Nargle infestations, and stepped over Medusa where she was lying in the door, just watching everyone have a good evening.

"You and me both, Medusa," Harry told her. He shook the cookies off the pan right onto a plate. There was no need to bother with a rack when everyone would want to eat them hot. Summoning the tub of ice cream and levitating the cutlery, he went back to join the others in the living room.

Xenophilius was laughing about something Joan had said, though he did take a cookie when Harry offered.

Eurus looked genuinely pleased by Luna's earnest attention, and Sherry was always happy to entertain an audience as he told them about his Hogwarts adventures. They were all a bit more violent than Harry had been hoping for, but much less violent than he'd feared.

For a moment, munching on cookies and basking in the warmth of each other's company, their little family was happy.

Harry smiled to himself and slurped the ice cream before it could dribble off the side of his plate. For all that he'd been worried about them all, they'd turned out alright. The glowing ball of happiness in his chest had him feeling like he could burst.

Mycroft came and sat beside Harry on the couch. "You did this," he said, pressing a kiss on Harry's cheek. "Without you, we wouldn't have…" He gestured at their lopsided family. "Thank you. I'm so grateful."

The joy swelled even more, like it was growing beyond his body to fill the entire room.

All his worries, so many days and nights spent gently coaxing people into doing the right thing… In the back of his mind, Harry could hear the magical people humming a happy little tune. A light, cheerful sound like a waterfall in the midday sun.

This trip, this choice to relive these years of his life, was worth it for moments like these.