A/N: OK, this hasn't gotten quite the reaction I'd imagined, but I guess I'll continue. Please review, even if you hate it, so I know to stop writing! Thanks!

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Heirs

Chapter Two: The Potter's Problems

"Really Dad!" Ian exclaimed. Since Harry and the gang had grown up, Grimmauld Place had been restored, and was no longer the dark and dreary house it had once been. The children rather liked going there, it meant seeing all their friends. Since Ron and the rest of the Weasley's were members of the order, their families all accompanied them. The children spent the days playing while the adults worked.

"Yep, really Ian." Harry replied, smiling at his son. "We'll leave straight from Diagon Alley."

"In that case, you lot had better get packing." Hermione suggested. "Get your trunks and everything you'll want to bring to school. I'll finish clearing the table."

Ian got up quickly and dashed off to his bedroom on the second floor. Phoebe followed, but lingered on the steps, listening to her parents and brother.

"Mum, Dad, I'm 15." Nathaniel pleaded. "I know about the order, why do you have to shoo me away?"

"We're not shooing, Nathan. You do not need to know about everything that goes on in the world." Hermione replied sternly. "Go pack."

"She's right, you know." Harry agreed. "If we thought you had anything to worry about, I'd be the first to tell you. Honest."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and reluctantly went to his room.

Hermione continued to clear the table. "Why are they calling a meeting?" she asked in a hushed voice. "He's not back, is he?"

"Remus couldn't tell me much, with the owls so easily intercepted." Harry explained. "But I dunno why else the order would be gathering."

"Oh Harry." Hermione sighed. "You don't think it's Ian, do you? I mean it's a bit strange that all this seems to be coinciding with his first year at Hogwarts." She reasoned, in a worried tone.

"But why Ian?" Harry wondered outloud. "We were so sure it was Nathaniel he would have gone after. He's the oldest, and he's the most like me out of all of them. But he's been fine. 4 years at Hogwarts and not one scrape with Voldemort."

"I know." Hermione nodded. "It's been 13 years since he's been back. Why now? Why this year?"

"No one knows why." Harry replied, softly. "If we could figure him out, we'd have killed him by now."

"I'm sorry, it's just that I worry." Hermione explained, as Harry got up and came closer to her. "The prophecy."

"The prophecy," Harry started, taking his wife in his arms, "will come true, eventually. I will kill Voldemort."

"Harry."

"And if he so much as thinks about laying a finger on you or my children, he'll wish he was never born." Harry swore.

Hermione looked up at him.

"But, I'm sure we'll figure it out at the meeting." He told her. "So I want you to relax."

"I know, I'll try." She promised, smiling at him.

"Good, because you know that I would never let anything happen to you." He kissed her forehead. "Or the children."

"I know Harry." She replied. She hugged him.

"Speaking of the children," he remarked, "it's been awfully quiet."

"I better go check on them." Hermione remarked. "Ian said something about wanting to bring his own bed with him to Hogwarts." She laughed.

Harry and Hermione headed to the second floor of their house.

"Suppose I've got the angry one then?" he asked as they stood outside Nathaniel's bedroom.

"He's exactly like you were at that age, I might remind you." Hermione scolded. "Go talk some sense into him."

"Right." Said Harry entering the room.

Hermione, meanwhile, peeked in on Ian, who was happily cramming all his Quidditch paraphernalia into his trunk. She smiled and then set off for Phoebe's room.

Harry lingered in the doorway and watched as Nathaniel flipped through his Puddlemere United magazine.

"Brushing up on the old Quidditch moves, then?" he asked as he walked towards his son. "Think they'll make you captain?"

"I dunno." He replied, without looking up. "Maybe I'm not old enough."

Harry had to smirk at the sarcastic tone. "You know something, Nathan? Your mother is exactly right."

Nathaniel closed the magazine and looked up at his father. "What else is new?" he asked.

"Well, she is constantly telling me how much you're like me at 15." Harry explained, sitting down. "And I've just realized it."

"How's that?" Nathaniel asked, furrowing his brow.

"Well, I was 15 when I found out about the order. And no one was telling me anything." Harry related. "I felt so left out, like some child who needed to be protected from the real world. But I wasn't. I'd fought Voldemort 3 times! So I was furious they wouldn't let me in!"

"Then what happened?" Nathaniel asked, his interest piqued.

"Well, I found out the basics about the order, as you did. How they banded together to fight against the Death Eaters, and how all they were doing was protecting me." Harry continued.

"Yeah?" asked Nathaniel. "Did that make you less angry?"

"No, of course not." Harry replied, a sparkle in his eye. "I continued pressing for details, and trying to prove to everyone that I was brave enough to look after myself. He looked over at his son. "And because I did that, because of my stubbornness to let people care for me, I lost the person I cared for the most."

"Sirius." Nathaniel remarked quietly. He had heard the story many times before. "But Dad, that wasn't your fault.."

"I know." Harry replied, a sad smile on his face. "But I didn't help the situation. And after that happened, they had to tell me everything."

"That must have made you happy then, right?" Nathaniel asked.

"You know, at first it did. Not happy exactly, but satisfied at least." Harry answered. "But then I realized that it did something else. It made me grow up even more. Now, not only did I have to live with my parents' and Sirius's death, but also with what I was going to have to do eventually."

Nathaniel looked at him, confused.

"Look, I know none of this makes sense right now." Harry remarked. "But there are reasons for you not needing to know everything. I don't want you to have to grow up that quickly. Enjoy being a teenager, because it's over too fast as it is."

He nodded.

"You've just got to trust that I'm only looking out for your best interests." Harry told him. "All I want is for you to be happy and safe. Mum too."

"I know Dad." Nathaniel replied. "Its just hard sometimes."

"Oh believe me." Harry retorted. "15 is a very difficult age."

"16 any better?" Nathaniel asked.

Harry laughed. "No, not really. In fact, nothing makes very much sense until you hit your twenties. And even then it's still a bit foggy."

"Even girls?" he asked.

Harry let out a big laugh. "No, son. Unfortunately, even I haven't hit an age where girls make much sense."

"Wow, and you're ancient!" Nathaniel joked.

"You better watch it, or you'll be taking Hedwig back to school." Harry threatened. "And if you think I'm ancient.."

Nathaniel laughed. "G'night Dad."

"Night Nathan." Harry replied, as he left the room.

In the room across the hall, Hermione was talking to Phoebe.

"You all packed sweetheart?" she asked, as she walked over to her trunk.

"Just about." Phoebe replied, from behind her copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. "You know, there are a lot of useful charms in this book that we never got to last year."

"Oh yeah?" asked Hermione, amused at her daughter's passion for learning, clearly inherited from herself. "Like what?"

"Like the shrinking charm." Phoebe explained. "Watch." She instructed, as she demonstrated on a pile of robes. "Decresco!" she chanted, and the robes instantly shrunk.

"Well done!" Hermione praised. "Makes packing a breeze."

"Yep." Phoebe nodded, transferring the pile into her neatly packed trunk. She closed the top, and then looked at Hermione. "Mum, can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can darling." Hermione replied. "You can ask me anything."

"Well, I dunno, I was just thinking." Phoebe started, searching for words. "I mean, Ian's the baby, and he's just cute and all, and Nathan's the oldest, and now he's prefect, so where does that leave me?"

Hermione studied her daughter for a moment while listening to her. She looked like her mother mostly. She had the same freckled complexion, and the same bushy brown hair. All accept her eyes. They were a sparkling, piercing green, just like her fathers. She was the only one of all three with them. Nathaniel looked just like Harry, with messy jet-black hair, and a long, thing face, but he had Hermione's brown eyes. Ian was a fair combination of the two, hair slightly darker than his sisters, but not nearly as untidy as his brothers, and brown eyes a little lighter than Hermione's. She'd always found it odd that the oldest two were almost carbon copies, but with eyes that had been switched. And right now, Phoebe's emerald eyes looked full of confusion.

"Phoebe, it leaves you right where you are." Hermione told her. "You are so special to us. You're smart, and funny, and beautiful. You're our little princess." She smiled at her.

Phoebe smiled back, looking a little happier.

"I know with all the excitement of Ian starting Hogwarts, and Nathan getting prefect that you feel a bit lost in the shuffle, but you'll always be our Phoebe. No matter what. We'll always be proud of you for who you are." Hermione continued. "And soon enough, you'll be 15, and getting prefect, and taking O.W.L.'s and getting everyone's attention. So don't worry. OK?"

"Ok Mum." Phoebe replied.

"Better?" Hermione asked her.

"Yep." Phoebe smiled back.

"Good." Hermione declared. "Now, you had better get some sleep. We've got a busy day ahead of us." She got up and headed out. "I love you Phoebe."

"Love you too, Mum." Phoebe replied.

Hermione smiled and left the room. She walked past Ian's room, where Harry was tucking him in, and headed to her own room to pack for the week ahead. It was not going to be an easy one.