Harry Potter and His Instant Family

by Bfd1235813

Harry Potter and the Carrow Twins, Flora and Hestia, reunite following the final battle. Harry won't choose which is fine with the twins. An arranged betrothal threatens their futures until the contingency plan of the skilled potioneers puts the world back in balance. Rated M for situations, not florid descriptions.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: The following story is based on characters and locations found in the works of JK Rowling. The author makes no claim to anything in this story which was written solely for the enjoyment of readers of fanfiction.

Harry Potter and His Instant Family was written as an homage to the story Twins by Andrius, which you can read on this site.

Following the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and the twins discover they both want the same thing…

Harry Potter and His Instant Family

by

Bfd1235813

The days between his death and the funeral of Albus Dumbledore saw the faculty and students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wandering, dazed or staring across the hilly landscape or breaking into fits of crying at the least or no provocation at all.

"This is going to be hard," Harry said.

It was the day before the funeral. He had felt like crying at least a hundred times, every day since what some were calling the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Many of those times he thought he was going to do it. He'd have welcomed a good cry. Get it over with. Let it out. It never happened. It always felt about to but then it never did.

Harry had been friends, close friends with the Carrow twins, Hestia and Flora, since his fourth year at Hogwarts. He'd escorted Flora to the Yule Ball, in theory on a double date with Ron Weasley and Flora's twin sister Hestia. Ron, though, proved to have a rubbery spine when faced with a whole evening in close proximity to, not one but two Carrows and took the first chance he got to slip away and not come back.

Harry had stepped into the space Ron created and quite gallantly alternated dancing with the sisters throughout the ball. It took a bit of getting used to as did the twins themselves. They paid him back, claiming him as their potions class partner. He should have partnered with one person but he always seemed to be the odd student out. The twins knew a lot more about potions than he did. To his surprise, Harry began to learn something about potions, his grade improved and Severus Snape slowly came to understand that the Carrow twins, the potions stars of Slytherin House, had taken an interest in Potter and wished to be left alone to work on their joint project.

Taking points from the trio would have necessitated taking points from Slytherin and Snape was not about to do that. A kind of symbiosis evolved and three of the four principal actors liked it.

Harry, Hestia and Flora continued to be friends in fifth year, then in sixth. Harry was still part of a trio with his Gryffindor housemates, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. During fifth year both were in Harry's underground Defense Against the Dark Arts tutorial/study group, Dumbledore's Army. They were hunted and harassed by Minister Fudge's operative throughout the year. Dolores Umbridge pursued Harry and his associates to the point that she came apart at the hands of her own obsession, although it didn't really seem like it at the time.

Harry insisted the Carrows stay out of it. Nothing good would result if all three of them were on the outs with the Ministry of Magic. Most of Umbridge's toadies came from Slytherin House. Harry would not consider doing anything that might make the twins vulnerable to harassment by their housemates. Only after Umbridge had been publicly disgraced and removed from the school was it possible for Harry and the twins to pass a cordial word or two in public.

Sixth year started out better but that didn't last. There were bright spots. Professor Slughorn hosted social events for his favorite students. Those included Harry and the Carrows. Slughorn invited a number of distinguished outsiders to his Yule buffet dinner. It was a great networking opportunity, Harry's first exposure to one of those. He'd begun to think adulthood wasn't all that bad.

Offsetting the fun bits were Dumbledore's incessant demands for Harry to get an unmodified memory from Slughorn. Harry tried. Slughorn pushed back. Their relationship strained, then cracked. The resolution required Slughorn to get good and drunk one evening at Hagrid's hut. The professor confided in Harry, telling him a story about Harry's mother Lily, one of Slughorn's most distinguished pupils. Harry used the opening, shamelessly, knowing the confession could have a devastating effect on his mother's teacher. Still, he did it, and took the memory to Dumbledore.

Then Harry and Dumbledore's final joint expedition ended in disaster and Dumbledore was dead.

"I didn't see our sixth year ending this way," said Harry.

"Who could have?" asked Flora.

"Professor Snape?" asked Hestia.

She withdrew her hand from the pocket of her robe. Harry saw she was holding a little white mouse with pink toes, a pink nose and pink eyes

"I don't think so," said Flora and Harry together.

No one had noticed when Harry and one of the twins had begun answering together. Harry thought it was weird and tried not to think about it. He never mentioned it when it happened. The twins did it all the time but they were the twins.

"May I?" asked Harry, holding out an index finger.

The mouse accepted some strokes to the top of its head. Hestia held a little carrot in her left hand so the mouse could get some nibbles.

At the time of Dumbledore's death the Dark Lord Voldemort's insurrectionary forces were increasing their pressure on the Ministry of Magic. The Aurors, the Ministry's police force, seemed to be unable to get control of the Dark witches and wizards who were casting their lots with Voldemort.

"This is madness," Harry mused.

He was sitting with the twins in the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade. In the aftermath of Dumbledore's death, school and class schedules had broken down completely. Harry and the twins signed themselves out of Hogwarts, coming and going as they wished. If they felt like a meal in a pub they left and acquired one. School administration winked at the technical violation of policy. Harry and the Carrows could look out for themselves.

"There is no way Voldemort is fit to lead Magical Britain," muttered Harry.

The three were the only customers and Aberforth Dumbledore, the proprietor, was in the room back behind the bar.

"Are you coming for seventh year, Harry?" asked Hestia.

"I don't know if it will be safe," Harry answered. "Developments. You know?"

Hestia and Flora exchanged looks.

"Word is, one more push and the Ministry will be under You-Know-Who's control," said Flora.

"Around the common room," added Hestia.

"There is some Dark Lord sympathy down there," Flora concluded.

"Ahhh…Great. I've been thinking of myself, it's you two I should be thinking of," said Harry. "What can I do to help?"

"Not a lot," said Flora.

"We'll be expected to return," said Hestia. "Don't worry about us."

"You're known to be friendly with me!" said Harry, the accumulating stress apparent in his voice.

It was true. They had all worked at keeping the full dimensions of their friendship from others but some leakage was inevitable.

"Shh…shh…," said Flora, touching her fingertips to Harry's cheek.

"You will do the best you can do and we will look out for one another," Hestia said, using very soothing tones. Harry began to cool down.

"The conflict will work out the way it will work out. We are your friends and we will stay your friends," said Flora. She looked over at Hestia nodding in agreement.

They had to leave it there because, following their last meal together, Fortune decreed they would not speak again for a full year.

Harry thought of the twins often during their year apart. The frustrations of the horcrux hunt and life on the run stressed his alliance with Ron and Hermione beyond tolerances. Harry never doubted Ron's loyalty, even when the pressure broke him and he left Harry and Hermione in the forest.

Harry knew Hermione and Ron had each chosen a partner, even if by appearances they hadn't accepted that fact. Harry respected their choice. He did consider their situation. He had no doubt that he and Hermione could break off the horcrux hunt and walk away from their British connections. Hermione's parents were already in Australia. With a little memory restoration Harry and Hermione might be able to move to Australia and fit right in.

Harry always considered the Carrow twins when his thoughts started running away like that. He wasn't in what people called a relationship. They had been seeing one another from the middle of fourth year on through their fifth and sixth. They didn't overdo it and had only the most elementary physical contact. Dancing, some hand-holding and brief, closed-lips kisses. They had also suspended their growing friendship so he could run to and fro dodging Death Eaters and frustrating the Dark Lord in the latter's quest to find and kill Harry Potter. The least Harry could do, he thought, was fight his fight. If he survived, one of the first tasks he'd set for himself would be to find the Carrows and make sure they were all right. After that, who knew? He had to get to the end first and then they would see.

The final days of the conflict are chronicled in the archives, minute by minute accounts, movements, feints and blind alleys. Harry Potter was already exhausted when Pansy Parkinson proposed before all of Hogwarts that they send Harry out to face Voldemort alone. The Carrows were physically close to Parkinson at the time. When Harry looked at her, she looked back. She tried to look away, to her right, then her left. Wherever she looked she faced a Carrow, gray-eyed, silent. It was more comfortable facing Potter.

Sent to the dungeons by Professor McGonagall, the Slytherins passed out of the hall, Flora and Hestia getting one momentary chance to make eye contact with Harry. He was very tired with only enough left in him to pull the corners of his lips up. He hoped it was encouragement. It was the best he could do for them.

The battle drew down Harry's last reserves of magic and physical energy. Harry felt like dropping down, dead from fatigue, just to get a little rest. He managed to tolerate the crowds after his final duel with Voldemort. He stood with Professor McGonagall and shook hands until he thought his arm would come off. Thank Merlin for Hagrid. The half-giant blocked off one side and was keeping Harry upright at the end by means of a thumb hooked through Harry's belt.

Harry had had it. He looked around for the Carrows and didn't see them in the Great Hall. Dungeons? That was the last word he'd heard of the Slytherins. Maybe they were still down there.

Harry left the hall and descended the necessary flights of stairs. He wasn't supposed to know where to find the Slytherin common room, officially, but he'd fumbled that the day he'd escorted the twins down following their first Hogsmeade outing.

Harry held the Elder Wand, now his by right of conquest, walked up to the spot he remembered and spoke to the featureless stone wall.

"You remember me and we both know it," he said. "No time for word games. My password is Harry Potter."

The wall didn't change its expression. Perhaps it hesitated just a little, then the door appeared and was opened from the inside.

Harry walked in on chaos. Arguments were going on all over the room. Arms were going up and down like wings on wrens. Fists were shaking everywhere one looked. Fingers were being pointed at noses and up toward the ceiling. Harry stood still and marveled at the Boschian scene. Hestia was one of the first to spot Harry. She touched Flora on the forearm and they both looked his way. Harry gave a little lift of his head.

"Come here," said the gesture.

"Harry," the twins said together.

The common room went from cacophony to hushed in three seconds. The entire room stared.

"What in Merlin's name?" was a very common thought right then.

"It's over," Harry told the room.

He held up the Elder Wand.

"All over and done with, this time for good. Come on upstairs, if you want to. We might as well get started figuring this all out…"

Harry put one arm around each Carrow waist. He was just enough taller than them that he could press the tops of their heads with his cheek so he handed out two cheek-bumps. If they wanted to snog, they'd do that later, not in front of a room full of Slytherins.

"I need Pansy," Harry said to the twin on his left.

He told himself his glasses were all smeared with dirt and grease and probably out of date and he'd get a new pair just as soon as he could and then he'd learn to tell the twins apart.

A Carrow came up, holding Parkinson by the hand.

"H-Harry?" said Pansy Parkinson.

She was trembling. The twin who'd fetched her, Harry thought it was Hestia, stood next to Pansy, their shoulders touching.

"Your quick thinking saved lives," Harry said. The twins turned to stare at him.

"Wh-What?" asked Parkinson.

"I am in your debt," Harry said. "Flora and Hestia were safe down here, thanks to you. A great weight lifted off my heart when I saw them leave. The dungeons are the best protected part of the castle. I could not have lived with myself if I ever brought trouble down on Flora and Hestia. If you do not wish to discuss this further, I assure you I understand and I will not speak of it again."

"Thank-you, Harry," Parkinson managed, just before reaching out for a nearby chair into which she collapsed.

"That's done," Harry said as he turned toward the door.

He walked with the twins, all three of them silent, upstairs and through corridors, looking for a quiet cul-de-sac.

"I need to get out of here," Harry said. They'd stopped in a little alcove that might have once been a statuary niche. "I need to sleep. I need a decent meal. What about you?"

"Whatever you want, Harry," said Flora.

"Where do you want to go?" asked Hestia. "Back to our common room? I think the Slytherin witches' dorm might be yours for the asking. What's that saying? With benefits."

Flora started to giggle. Harry had to admit it was cheeky enough to merit a weak smile.

"Not anywhere in the castle," he said. "I'm sick of it right now, aren't you?"

"Of course, but we want to do whatever you want," said Flora. "We're okay with it, if you'll come up with something."

"Would one of you go see if Rosmerta has anything available upstairs at the Three Broomsticks? I need a bath and a room with enough silencing charms to let me sleep for the next twenty-four hours, if I can manage it."

Hestia turned and went down the stairs, heading for the great doors.

She came back half an hour later and found Harry and Flora in the Great Hall, paying respects and delivering condolences. A lot had changed in thirty minutes. Kingsley Shacklebolt had gone to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, rounded up some trustworthy aurors and led his own countercoup. A detachment had come back to Hogwarts and was busy securing the castle. The hospital wing was full of patients so an empty classroom had been turned into a temporary morgue. All of the bodies were gone from the Great Hall, waiting for family to come and claim them.

"Come, Harry," Hestia said, her voice very soft.

Harry walked to the great wooden doors, a Carrow witch on each side.

The three apparated to Hogsmeade and took their time walking to the Three Broomsticks. Harry found the fresh air had him feeling better with each step. He was breathing in freedom for the first time since the Weasley-Delacour wedding the previous summer. The very air seemed potion-like, calming, restoring, sharpening his wits and reviving his magic.

"This way," said Hestia.

When they entered the pub, she walked a little ahead, directly to the stairs, while Flora stayed with Harry. He looked strong enough but one never knew.

The Carrows' teamwork continued inside their room. Flora went to the tub to draw a bath while Hestia maneuvered Harry to the bed and had him sit. She knelt on the floor and removed one shoe, then the other, then Harry's socks. She put everything together in a pile. Windbreaker and shirt followed. Hestia lifted Harry's mokeskin pouch up and over his head.

"Take everything out of your pockets and put it all down there," Hestia said, putting the pouch on a bedside table. Harry complied.

Trousers were next, pockets checked for valuables then on to the discard pile. Hestia stood up and assessed Harry in his shorts.

"Those. Are. Nasty. Love," she said.

Harry blushed. Clothes shopping had been put off, over and over. He was aware of that fact.

"Don't have to tell…" he began

Hestia put two fingers on his lips.

"Shh…shh…We'll take care of it, you'll see. Let's get 'em off. Please," she said. Hestia let Harry manage tossing the boxers aside.

The water had stopped running. Hestia took the naked Harry by the hand and led him to the bath. The Three Broomsticks made up in charm what it lacked in glam and glitter. Flora had been busy while she ran Harry's bath. She'd modified the lighting making the space grotto-like. It was light enough for safety and dim enough to be restful.

"Look who's here," Hestia said.

"Oh, the Hero of the Age!" enthused Flora.

Harry blushed again, thankful for the low lighting.

"Let us help you, Harry, you're bound to be drained of your vital energy," Hestia admonished him as she took his arm.

"Oh, sorry, did I bump…that?" asked Flora.

She had, indeed, probably due to the subdued atmosphere.

Harry didn't know why his vital energy was a concern and Flora's inadvertent bump had made something come alive.

"We need to talk," said Harry. "Just have to catch my breath."

He sank down in the water and tried to form a mental picture of vital energy entering through his pores, replacing everything he'd expended in the year-long battle with Voldemort and his forces.

Hestia and Flora looked back and forth. They didn't need to use words. Hestia wanted to know if Flora wanted to go or stay. Flora flexed an eyebrow. Hestia had gone to the Three Broomsticks and arranged for the room. She could stay with Harry this time and Flora would go out. She looked over the collection of Potter rags and made a mental list, then vanished the entire pile. He wouldn't be needing those again.

Flora took her time shopping so Harry could have a good, long restful soak. Hestia came out of the bathroom when she heard Flora return. Flora cocked her head. Hestia opened her eyes as wide as she could. Flora's eyebrows went up.

"Really?"

Hestia nodded, turned and pushed the bathroom door open.

Harry's head rose up over the side of the tub. His hair had been washed and finger-combed back away from his scrubbed-pink face.

"Better, Harry?" asked Flora.

"I'm clean, for the first time in days," Harry said. "I may have replaced some vital energy. We improvised with a bucket a few days back. But this—was bliss!"

The twins laughed at Harry's silly couplet. Hestia had the biggest towel ready to deploy.

"Feel like some dinner?" she asked as she held the towel, arms spread.

Harry hesitated after making only the slightest move toward getting out of the tub.

"Might as well stand up, Harry. We have seen it, remember?" said Flora.

"Okay, just don't stare, please?" Harry pleaded.

"Certainly not!" the Carrows lied.

Flora's purchases were laid out on the bed. Harry wasn't expecting that and was nearly overcome with gratitude.

"Wow, did you think of everything?" he asked.

"We tried," said the twins.

"It's only fair, with two of us," Hestia said. "Otherwise we wouldn't have any edge."

"Edge?" said Harry.

"Over a singleton," answered Flora.

"Which would be…"

"A girlfriend. Single. Don't be obtuse," said Hestia.

"Harry isn't obtuse," said Flora. "Say anything you want about him but that. He isn't obtuse."

Harry had his new jeans on and was pulling his t-shirt down while he thought over the advantages of a pair of twins over a singleton.

"Here, let me, please?" said Hestia as she gave her wand a flick and directed a sizing charm at the shirt.

"Perfect," Harry said as he twisted right and left then raised his hands over his head.

"Socks?"

"Here."

Harry accepted the new socks and pulled them on. His feet were ready for shoes and the twins each held one, waiting patiently for a foot. They knelt down and Harry raised his feet. The new trainers fit, first try.

"Brilliant," said Harry.

Flora held up a windbreaker with the logo of one of the popular sportswear lines.

"Try this," she said.

It fit, no longer a surprise.

"What do I owe you?" asked Harry.

"Nothing, our treat," said Hestia. "Now, downstairs."

"We're going to start feeding you up," said Flora. "Then you'll need a good night's sleep."

"We need to talk," said Harry, noticing as he did so that he was starting to repeat himself.

Flora ordered for everyone. Rosmerta insisted the little party take one of the private dining rooms, citing the probability of a riot if word hit the streets that Harry Potter was dining with two beautiful witches in the main room of the Three Broomsticks.

Harry's meal began with a garden salad followed by a beef stew with turnips and carrots, fresh bread and a date/yoghurt dessert that sounded inedible but was surprisingly tasty.

Harry sipped from a cup of tea as he took his time for some lingering eye contact with Hestia, then Flora.

"When I was out there, on the run," Harry began.

The twins didn't know where he was going but they were very good at deep listening. Harry's voice was layered. There were words, sure, and there were resonances, shadings and clues to things yet unsaid.

"When I was out there, on the run, I had time to think about a lot of things. People I knew. Things I wanted to do but had to wait for. Things I wanted to say. I thought about how I wanted to live the rest of my life, if I got to live it. Conditions were a challenge. I'm not going to go into it but if I felt like giving up, I thought about you. Both of you. How much I liked the Yule Ball, especially after Ron ditched us."

The twins giggled at that.

"Well, he did," said Harry. "He ditched Hestia, primarily and we were collateral to that."

"Not collateral damage," said Flora.

"I don't feel damaged," said Harry. "You?"

He looked at Hestia.

"Not a bit," she said.

"I thought about your being at Hogwarts and how threatened you must feel. I wasn't there to help. Even if I couldn't do anything about it that was on my mind. I wondered if…"

The twins leaned forward, food and beverages ignored while Harry rambled.

"I have a little put aside, not a fortune," Harry said. "I refuse to pick, so I wondered if you would consider. Trying. To. See. If. Three…"

The twins pushed their chairs back from the table, stood and wrapped four arms around Harry's single neck. Flora's lips got to Harry's first, her tongue darting out and insisting Harry open to her. Once there, Harry discovered the sensation of Flora Carrow's tongue to be a combination of warm, wet, friendly, lively and an altogether lovely companion for his own. He might have invited it to stay longer had not Hestia pushed Flora's face away from Harry's so she could make her own contribution.

At some unspoken signal the Carrows broke contact and put a little distance between themselves and Harry. A short period of silence was observed except for some discreet throat-clearing and the dabbing of wet lips with the Three Broomstick's cloth napkins.

"We also talked, last year, Harry," Flora began.

"In private, of course," said Hestia.

"We worked every charm we could find, trying to protect you and make your life easier,"
Flora said.

"We didn't have any way to check and see if anything was working, we just had to try. We couldn't sit here and do nothing," said Hestia.

"Let's agree that the charms worked as advertised," said Harry. "I'm here, you're here, as a direct result. I'm very happy with the outcome."

"Are you?" asked Flora. "We didn't know. Amycus and Alecto…"

"Amycus," said Harry. "I might have killed him. He was immobilized and tied up when I left him but I don't know what happened after that."

"That's fine, they aren't close relatives," said Hestia. "I'd already planned to cast them out at some point."

"You can do that? How?" Harry asked, genuinely astonished.

The Carrows looked at him.

"Doesn't matter," they said together.

Harry left it alone.

"So you talked? While I was gone?" Harry asked.

"We did," said the twins.

"We were wondering…" Hestia began.

"If you ever thought of doing things, together…" Flora continued.

"With us," they concluded.

"I did," Harry said.

"I confess, I did," he continued. "If I was wrong, please forgive me, if you can."

The twins began giggling, fingertips on their lips, eyes darting toward Harry and back.

"It's not that, Harry," said Flora. "People find us creepy. We're different. We can't be anything but what we are and the prudes and Puritans think it's yucky."

"We don't think we're yucky," said Hestia. "We haven't done anything but work hard and support one another."

"We haven't had the opportunity to do anything yucky whether you think certain things are yucky or not. We swear…" said Flora.

"To Morgana," they concluded.

"I believe you," said Harry. "I see two but I always thought of you in a single thought. Is that yucky, do you think?"

"No," said Flora.

"Why would it be?" asked Hestia.

"It seems like a natural state of affairs," said Flora.

"It would, one supposes, for the two of you. Well, for what it's worth, thinking of you kept me sane last year," said Harry. "When I wanted to quit and run away, I thought of you. I knew, if it was possible, I had to defeat Voldemort so we could have this conversation. Whenever I needed someone to pop into my head and buck me up, there you were, the two of you, always the two of you."

Significant looks went around the table.

"Done?" asked Flora.

"I am," said Harry. "I'm going to drop right here if you don't get me back upstairs."

Flora had taken the time to look at all the ways to get around inside the Three Broomsticks. Avoiding the big front room was no problem if someone in the party knew where the back stairs were located.

Harry woke in the morning, the day after his defeat of Voldemort, with no recollection of going to bed. He deduced that he had gone to bed only because that is where he was upon awakening. He had to take a few moments for his mind to catch up. He'd gone to the Three Broomsticks with the Carrow twins. They'd taken care of everything. He remembered the stew. It was good.

Harry tried to sit up in bed but met resistance. He began to sort out his position vis-à-vis the linens. Oh. There was a Carrow on each side of him. They must have gotten warm in the night because they were more outside the top blanket than inside. Hester was wearing a t-shirt that followed curves unhindered by undergarments. Flora, on Harry's left, had her eyes wide open, staring into Harry's. She wasn't wearing anything on top.

"Good morning, Flora," Harry said. "I, uh…"

He pointed at the bathroom door.

Flora swiveled, slid her legs over the edge of the bed and got out of Harry's way. Harry saw she was wearing the customary item on the bottom. Harry crossed the bedroom in a semi-bent-over posture.

When he came out a few minutes later he had some questions. The first one was obvious.

"Did we?"

"You don't remember?" Flora and Hestia pleaded in unison.

Harry must have had a very confused look on his face because their reaction was some raucous laughter followed by mutual admonishments to 'Shush!'

"No," said Hestia. "You kind of collapsed so we got you out of those new clothes and covered you up."

"We didn't have anywhere to go," said Flora. "We were cast adrift in Hogsmeade. You were gracious enough to leave room for us to slide in."

"Then we got hot," said Hestia.

"So hot," confirmed Flora. "We had to make adjustments. We did rock-paper-scissors for your t-shirt. I had to sleep, well, as you saw."

"I—I did," Harry admitted. "And nothing of a sexual nature? Transpired?"

"No," said Hestia. "Are you disappointed in us?"

"NO!" said Harry. "Well, I mean, we really should spend some more time together, get to know one another again, everyone decide that is what they want. This is going to be a very big step. Isn't it?"

"We thought we'd worked that out over dinner, Harry."

Flora crossed her arms over her bare upper half, her gray eyes boring into Harry.

Her voice had overtones. 'I'm beginning to feel a little put out with you, Harry Potter,' said the overtones.

"I don't mean we didn't talk and agree, I just thought, out of respect for you two, perhaps I ought not to be pushy for a physical…" Harry managed before he ran out of words.

Harry's energy level had mysteriously repaired itself overnight and his willpower was losing the battle with the mental pictures that had sustained him while he was chasing down horcruxes and avoiding snatchers and Death Eaters. In fact, the mental pictures were weak and washed-out compared to the reality all around him. Standing between the twins, wearing nothing but his new boxers while thinking about 'physical' induced a predictable response. Flora saw the results and moved closer.

"Did you want to do something about this?" she asked. "Is that what you're saying, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't trust his voice so he nodded his head, 'Yes.'

"So do we," said Hestia. "You don't have to worry, we talked, after you went to sleep."

Hestia pulled Harry's t-shirt up and over her head before tossing it toward the wall.

"We haven't done this before," said Flora as she kicked her last bit of clothing off her foot.

"We agreed we'd like to do it together."

"If, and only if, we could find someone nice. Like you. And if you think you have the vital energy," said Hestia as she followed Flora's lead.

"Oh, Merlin," sighed Harry as he let Flora put him back into bed.

"Afterwards, if you want to ditch us," said Flora, sliding in on her side.

"If you find us yucky," said Hestia, her lips a centimeter above Harry's.

"Or creepy, as some people do," Flora went on, "Feel free. But you're kind of immobile, don't you think?"

"He is," said Hestia. "He's just lying there. Probably still tired after exhausting himself saving us. I know about Magical Britain but I've decided I'll always remember it as Harry Potter saving us, Flora. He took a year out of his life to save us. No wonder he is so tired. We'll have to do the moving for him. I don't know what I'm doing, Flora. Maybe Harry will tell us what to do."

"Sure, Hestia," said Flora. "I think we should do whatever pleases Harry. I don't know what I'm doing, either. I'm here and appropriately dressed for the activity we had in mind. I wish I knew how to do all of Harry's favorite things. Maybe if we experiment a bit, Harry will tell us which ones make him happy. If he isn't too tired."

At some time between eleven and twelve noon a consensus emerged that it would probably be a courtesy to return to Hogwarts and participate in the rituals of public mourning, offer assistance with emergency cleanup and repair and confirm their well-being with appropriate authorities.

"When this gets out it will be a circus," said Harry. "Would you like to go home and wait for things to calm down?"

"I sense we are going to have this conversation over and over," said Flora.

"If you're going to be involved with both halves of a pair of twins, Harry, you're going to draw some attention," Hestia said. "Are you getting ready to ditch us? Were we too much?"

"NO!" said Harry. "I didn't mean that. I was thinking about you. What if Malfoy gets aggressive?"

"MALFOY?" the Carrows asked, following the question up with more laughter.

"Couldn't charm his way out of a paper bag," said Flora.

"Well, someone else, then," Harry said. "Malfoy was just a 'for-instance.'"

"Look at me, Harry," said Hestia. "Want to start lessons? Look at them like this."

He found he could do it, but just. The Carrows put on neutral faces accented by gray eyes that hung, completely still, in a firmament all their own. Everything went away except those four gray eyes that didn't move a millimeter, a November overcast with no hope of sun for months. Enough to drive strong men to drink, or worse.

"Just stare them down?" Harry asked.

"It's what we do," said Flora. "Want us to do it for you? Tell us and we'll take care of it."

"No one messes with you Harry, not while we're around," Hestia said.

Harry, who'd begun to think of himself as capable in battle, had to stop and consider. They were witches! Potioneers! They didn't even play quidditch! Was he going to let them keep bullies away? What kind of a wizard did he think he was?

"Okay, message received," Harry said.

The witches didn't say anything but they seemed pleased. Harry opened the door and let his girlfriends out into the corridor. They took the back stairs down to the back door and set out to walk to Hogwarts.

It was a nice Spring day, perfect for walking. Harry felt much more mobile than he had just the day before.

"There is the one thing," Flora said.

'Oh-oh,' thought Harry.

"Was there a girlfriend last year?" asked Hestia.

"Around end of term, wasn't it?" added Flora.

"She was there yesterday," said Harry. "They gave the appearance that Dean Thomas is back in her good graces. I hope so. She, Hermione and Luna Lovegood were in a fight with Bellatrix. They were wearing Bellatrix down. If they could block and dodge it was just a matter of time. Three on one."

"Will we have to go three on one, Harry?" asked Flora.

"Not if she's latched onto Dean," Harry said. "I was just a place to land on the rebound."

"Good," said Flora and Hestia.

Flora went on: "We will take it as read until she informs us differently."

Harry didn't want to think about that so he hoped his Dean theory held.

The three of them walked the castle for the rest of the day. They shook hands and collected stories. Reports from students' homes kept coming as parents and older siblings checked in. Harry couldn't have said when he was first aware but it became clear that quite a few families would need temporary shelter. Some of the students had lost a parent and a few were orphaned.

"I need to go to London," Harry said.

He was giving his report to Professor McGonagall, the Acting Headmistress.

"London?" asked McGonagall.

The Carrow twins were silent but they looked at Harry, waiting.

"The goblins," said Harry. "We have to get something organized for living quarters and a food supply. We have magical refugees, they can't be cast adrift. That would be a real disaster."

"Good thinking," said the headmistress. "Hogwarts' facilities are at your disposal."

She meant the owls and floos but Harry had a thought.

"You two like flying, don't you?" he asked.

"We're witches," answered Hestia.

"Or had you forgotten?" Flora asked.

Harry walked the witches down to the closet where the students' brooms were kept. The Carrows had their own brooms. They were Clean Sweeps, no longer considered high-performance brooms but still fairly quick and very safe and reliable. Harry went inside to the furthest back corner and brought something out to the corridor. It was a Firebolt and it had a hippogriff feather tied to the handle with a leather thong.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

It was late afternoon when the three arrived so once again Hestia went to the Leaky Cauldron to book their room while Harry and Flora went to Gringotts.

As he expected, there were some dirty looks directed at Harry when he strode across the center of the lobby. He presented himself at the nearest occupied teller cage and announced he had come to meet with the Director of Gringotts.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, you certainly do need to meet with the Director," said the goblin as he turned and left on his errand.

"You did all this?" asked Flora as she looked around at the damaged granite.

"I had help," Harry admitted.

"Mr. Potter? This way," said the teller goblin. "And Miss can wait…"

"My betrothed will be accompanying me," Harry said.

The goblin judged by his tone that Harry meant what he said.

"Director," said Harry as he bowed. He held the position until Ragnak spoke.

"Mr. Potter," was all he said.

"Your enemies are mine, may they not see another sunrise," said Harry. "My betrothed, Miss Carrow."

Ragnak snapped to attention. Harry Potter had just declared himself in alliance with Ragnak and the Directorate of Gringotts Bank. That was different.

"Mr. Potter…" Ragnak began.

"The time for recriminations is past, Director," said Harry. "I pledge my personal fortune and the assets of the House of Potter to the restoration of this establishment. It's the least I can do. However, there is an equally pressing issue, the relief of the orphans and widows of Magical Britain. Hogwarts can support the students for a few days but most will have to leave while the castle is repaired. We need to organize temporary housing and regular meals. I'll do whatever I can but I don't know what I have. Number 12 Grimmauld Place is available but I haven't seen it in nearly a year. I've heard of other properties but without an opportunity to visit them I have no idea how many people I can accommodate."

A messenger appeared at the director's door.

"Mr. Potter, a Miss Carrow insists…" he began.

"With your permission, Director, my betrothed should join us," said Harry.

Ragnak blinked, twice, looking between Harry and Flora.

"Please show her in," said Ragnak, swiveling in his big chair to see a second betrothed Carrow.

"Miss Hestia Carrow, Director," said Harry. "My betrothed. Hestia, Director Ragnak."

Hestia curtsied, adding, "May your battle-axe be sharpened on the helms of your enemies."

"And," Harry went on, "My betrothed, Miss Flora Carrow. Flora, Director Ragnak."

Flora had been on her feet since Hestia entered. She, too, curtsied and fished around for a greeting equal to, or better than Hestia's.

"The rabble recedes before thee, a tide without end, thy descendants are legion, from the mead hall soundeth thy name."

Harry gave Ragnak some time to absorb the respectful greetings of his two betrothed witches. The ritual was so important to goblins. An entire catechism of everything from groveling, kissing of feet, kissing of one hand and two hands, pledges and blood oaths wove in, out, around and through the goblins' daily interactions. Rendering a ceremonial greeting with inadequate bows, curtsies or other honorifics could ignite a little blood-feud requiring the services of trusted emissaries and negotiators. It wasn't something goblins expected wizards to get right, especially ones as young and inexperienced as Harry Potter and his two betrothed witches.

"I was just outlining a very basic picture of the need we identified earlier. I will pledge all of the assets of my family to the relief effort and contribute, of course, to the repairs required to restore these premises. I suggest we leave the Director now as he will need time to consult."

The following morning found Harry Potter in a fine mood. He had escorted the two Carrows out through the main lobby to the front steps where the three of them had stopped to let the sunshine warm their faces. They followed with a stroll down Diagon Alley. While walking together they arranged themselves three abreast. When a passerby accosted Harry and asked to shake his hand the Carrows stepped back a half-pace and waited patiently. At some point Harry would motion them forward and introduce them.

"X-, I have the honor to introduce my betrothed, Miss Hestia Carrow, and my betrothed, Miss Flora Carrow. Flora, Hestia, this is X-," Harry would say.

The three of them would allow the person some moments for blinking and looking back and forth, then move on down the Alley.

"When did we become your betrothed?" asked Flora.

"Not that you will get any complaints out of me," added Hestia.

"Somewhere between Hogwarts and Gringotts," said Harry. "It seemed the most rational way to approach our business today. After our talks and the visit to Hogwarts. It appears we are accepted, so far."

"It appears," said Flora.

"So far," Hestia agreed.

Harry was putting off returning to #12 Grimmauld Place, hence the room at the Leaky Cauldron. He knew he would have to stand up and face all of his issues eventually. He resolved to do it first thing next day. Meanwhile he was still short of stamina. After one circuit of Diagon Alley, Harry proposed they declare an end to the day's activities and see about dinner and an early bedtime.

The Carrows were so accommodating Harry began to feel like he should be more solicitous of their thoughts.

"You need to start thinking about your wardrobes," Harry began.

"We have clothes," the twins said.

"Where?" asked Harry.

"Our home," said Flora.

"And at school," said Hestia.

"Fine," said Harry. "Tomorrow morning, Twillfits and Tattings for a new outfit each. Head to toes, all of it coordinated. Something you'd go to as your first choice if you had an important business meeting or needed to attend an event at the Ministry. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," said the witches, suppressing grins as they looked back and forth.

Harry spent another restful night between his two companions. Tom the barman was delighted to see Harry coming through the alley door. He insisted on dispensing free butterbeers to all three. Harry suspected it was to ensure he stayed in the bar for twenty or thirty minutes, a de facto endorsement of the Leaky Cauldron and announcement that normalcy had returned to Magical Britain.

They did get to their room, eventually. Harry pulled the shades as there were still a good two hours of daylight left.

"Bath," he announced.

"Of course," said the witches and Hestia started the water.

"Tomorrow I'll have to go see Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," Harry said. "Heard of it?"

Flora shook her head as Hestia reentered the bedroom.

"Me neither," Hestia said.

"It's a town house, used to belong to the Black family then my godfather Sirius made me his heir, so now I have it. The last regular, full-time resident, the witch Walburga Black, was very Dark and a bit volatile. She's still there, in a portrait. An old family retainer, a house elf named Kreacher, is still around. He belongs to me although he detests me. He does what I tell him then he makes me pay for it. He was working with the kitchen at Hogwarts and showed up for the fight in the Great Hall, though. I have something in mind, something I'd like to try, when you're done with your fittings tomorrow," said Harry.

He hadn't been paying attention but the witches seemed to want to get together for bath time. One had a wand in hand, expanding the tub.

"Hope the hot water holds out," Harry observed.

The Carrows were back from Twillfits and Tattings shortly after eleven the following morning. Harry had waited in their room, reading and dozing, so he wouldn't be the cause of wasted time.

"Brilliant!" he said when the twins entered the room. "Take care of everything?"

"Of course," they answered together.

"Then let's go see what is left of our house," said Harry.

The three apparated to a discreet corner of a nearby park and walked to Number Twelve. Harry had his repaired holly wand in hand, laid against the inside of his arm.

"Will we need to defend ourselves?" asked Hestia.

"Will you let me defend you?" Flora followed.

"Flora don't you dare," said Hestia. "We only defend Harry together."

"Harrumph," said Harry. "No defending just yet. Here we are. It should be friendly territory."

They climbed the steps and Harry presented his wand to the door. They heard the latch click and the door swung open.

"Remember, it hasn't had any regular maintenance for years. One old house elf then Sirius and a hippogriff," Harry said.

"Oh, Harry, it's beautiful!" exclaimed Flora as soon as she stepped inside. "Look at all the cobwebs!"

"Oooooooo….!" Hestia squealed, holding her white mouse up in her curled hand, the little pink eyes taking it all in. "It's just like our room at home!"

"Only a whole house just for us!" added Flora.

"Right," said Harry. "Let's just see—Kreacher, I need you!"

Kreacher, loyal Black family retainer, materialized in the front hall/foyer of #12.

"Master Harry!" said a mildly enthusiastic sounding Kreacher. "You have come to visit #12 Grimmauld place and you have brought guests. Oh, Kreacher is caught unawares, you should have let Kreacher know!"

"Kreacher, don't fret, now is not the time, I assure you," said Harry, trying to mollify the elf.

"Everything is disrupted at the moment, let us go slowly and think about what we are doing. First things first?"

"First things first, first things first…" Kreacher muttered.

"In that spirit, my dears, this is Kreacher, a loyal and efficient retainer of the Black family, one of the most prominent in Magical Britain," Harry said. "Kreacher, we have new members of our magical family. It is my honor to present Miss Flora and Miss Hestia Carrow, powerful witches and potioneers. Miss Carrow and Miss Carrow are my betrothed."

"Betrothed. Betrothed?" asked Kreacher, clearly puzzled.

"Indeed, how are you and I so lucky? The Misses Carrow and I have been becoming stronger and stronger friends since my fourth year at Hogwarts. They are much more powerful together than apart and I could not think of one without the other. Our traditional arrangements are all up in the air at the moment so I have decided to help the Misses Carrow with their domestic situation and marry them both. You will soon have two powerful magical mistresses tasking you. I hope you will dedicate yourself to pleasing the Misses just as you would any other Mistress of #12."

Harry thought perhaps he had gone too far when Kreacher began vibrating and hopping up and down, one foot to the other. He decided to take Kreacher's mind off the sudden flood of magical mistresses by giving him something to do.

"I will need to introduce my two betrothed to Madame Walburga," Harry said. "Could you…"

Kreacher didn't wait for Harry to finish but snapped his fingers and his step stool appeared before Walburga Black's portrait.

"Mistress, it is Kreacher," he began. "Young Master Harry is home from the war…"

Harry turned a bit and whispered to the Carrows.

"Loves the drama," he said before punctuating his remarks with a wink.

"Potter. Half-blood. Always on the wrong side. Chronic. My least-useful son's. Heir. HEIR of the last Lord Black. Oh, the misery. The torture…"

Walburga's moaning and self-pity had gotten better in Harry's absence.

"Madame Walburga, my most sincere sympathies on the cascade of troubles. There is no easy way to say this. The war is over," said Harry.

Walburga perked up instantly.

"Oh, how lovely!" she said. "And the Dark Lord Voldemort is now in charge at the Ministry?"

"Madame, I know you will think this very bad news…"

"Potter! Enough! I'm an adult, you can spit it out!" Walburga insisted.

"The thing is, the Dark Lord and his forces lost, Madame," said Harry.

"Well, he can always come back, he's sure to have an ace in a hole somewhere," said Walburga. She seemed downright cheerful at the thought of the Dark Lord overcoming temporary difficulties and managed a shrug of her shoulders.

"I'm afraid not, Madame, the Dark Lord is permanently dead."

"How do you know that, Potter?" Walburga demanded.

"I'm the one who killed him," Harry admitted. "I had help, of course, but I delivered the final blow."

"Nooooo…," wailed Walburga. "Why should I believe you? What proof do you have?"

"Um…well, remember this wand? Dumbledore used it for decades and decades. He took it from Gellert Grindelwald. Was Grindelwald ever a guest here in the house? I'd think he would have enjoyed calling on yourself and Lord Orion, if he had the opportunity."

"I remember that wand," gushed Walburga. "Some call it the Death Stick."

Walburga lingered over Death and Stick and said them with more pleasure than Harry would have wanted. Flora and Hestia seemed to be entranced with Walburga, though.

"Mmm…Voldemort broke into Dumbledore's tomb to get it," Harry said. "Desecration. Anyway, he thought it was his but it wasn't so it didn't perform as well as he'd wanted when we faced one another so I, that is, I killed him and took his wand, in accordance with the rules. Kreacher was there. We're comrades now, I guess. So, it looks like the Death Stick will be spending some time with us here, bathing in all of our Black magic."

Walburga made a choking sound. Harry gave her a few extra seconds to digest.

"But here's the really good news, Madame," Harry went on. "See these two fine witches with me? They are the Misses Carrow, Flora and Hestia, both from Slytherin House. I have claimed them, as a set and will be bringing them home to help me populate #12 Grimmauld Place."

"Madame Walburga," said the twins in unison, giving Walburga their best joint curtsy.

"Carrow? Slytherin House?" Walburga began to show signs of needing some distance from all of the recent news.

"Kreacher, why don't we let Madame get some rest?" Harry suggested. "I'll take my two betrothed witches on a tour of the house and perhaps you can find some tea?"

"Of course Master Harry, we have tea in the cupboard," said a very subdued Kreacher. "If Master had given Kreacher one or two hours' notice…"

The old elf was still muttering when Harry led the way up the front stairs.

"Decorating…" Harry said. He'd meant, "Decorating isn't a problem, we can do whatever you want."

"What is to decorate, Harry?" asked Hestia who was looking, goggle-eyed, up, down and laterally.

"Why would we want to spoil this beautiful historical property?" Flora continued, visibly distressed by the very thought.

"Well, of course, if you like what we've done here…" Harry adjusted and moved on.

"I need to show you this room," Harry said as they arrived at the family drawing room, home of Walburga's prize enchanted tapestry.

"Oh, Harry!" they said together. "A family tapestry. And you're the head? That's some power. Look! There you are!"

A fine blue thread descended in curls from Harry's great-grandmother Dorea, whose own face showed signs of suffering a good blasting at some time in the distant past, and a thick, red line descended from Lord Sirius Black to Harry.

"And there YOU are," said Harry. "Both of you. That's good. The enchanted tapestry is never wrong."

Sure enough, a broken silver thread led from Harry's embroidered portrait to miniature portraits of the Carrow twins. Harry guessed the lines would be solid once he had tied the knot with his beloveds.

"So you have a Black ancestor?" Hestia asked. She wasn't looking at Harry, but Flora.

"One great-grandmother," said Harry. "I think they may have banished her for marrying my great-grandfather. I haven't had time to research all of that."

Something passed between the Carrows.

"I'll be inviting your guardians to our home, so I will need your help," Harry announced over cups of Kreacher's excellent tea.

The twins shared a look.

"You wish to call on our parents?" asked Flora.

"I can but I thought it might be better to have them over. Have you told them you are well? That you survived the battle and they can stop worrying?" Harry asked.

"Not as such," admitted Hestia.

Some more silent communication passed between the sisters.

"Perhaps that should be given some priority," Harry suggested. "This is the second full day since the battle."

"How about this," Flora began. "We will go home and speak to our parents in person. They may have heard we are down here in London running around with you. Word can travel surprisingly fast."

"Good, you can introduce us," said Harry.

"It might be better if we went ahead," said Flora.

"Prepare the ground," Hestia added.

"So important, preparation," said Flora.

"Mmm-hmm. Preparation," Hestia finished. She held her mouse so that it could look at the enchanted tapestry.

"Oh," said Harry. "I assumed, of course, that there was a fairly high probability the greater Carrow family would have some anti-Potter elements. Are you anticipating resistance? You won't be cast out, will you?"

"No," said the twins.

They commenced a second period of silent twin communication.

"There will be anti-Potter sentiment, Harry," said Hestia. "However, Flora and I are accustomed to working together and have overcome certain—inconveniences, in the past."

"Our path is smooth," said Flora in a very reassuring manner.

"Fine, tell me where you want me and when and I'll be there," Harry said. "I have meetings with Gringotts and the Wizengamot Relief Committee. Turns out I've got a seat. Do you know anything about that?"

"How old are you?" asked Flora.

"Sixteen," said Harry, "Seventeen on July 31."

"My guess is they're short a quorum," said Hestia. "Some of the Death Eaters were Heads and they're dead or heading to Azkaban."

Harry suddenly felt very guilty. He was personally responsible for some of the destruction.

"I didn't mean to damage our magical culture," Harry said. "Voldemort just wouldn't let it go."

"No one told them to follow Voldemort, Harry!"

Hestia kind of snapped at him. It must have shown on Harry's face.

"Sorry, Harry, Hestia is just a little defensive when it comes to you," said Flora. "We are here because of you. Besides, you've been magnanimous in victory. I'd have punched Parkinson in the nose, at least. You're good with Hestia."

It took Flora one additional request, in the form of, "Hestia?" but Hestia nodded, then stepped close to Harry and put both arms around his neck. Sniffles were heard.

"Hey," said Harry, "It's not that bad."

"It was bad, Harry," said Hestia. "We would go for days or weeks without hearing anything about you. We both cried into our pillows. You're the only boy we'd met who could see us as we are and not run away. You're still that one and I want to experience life with you and Flora."

"Done," said Harry. "I began to think that way, too, just like I said. Now that you are penciled-in on the Black Family tapestry, I'm confident we'll soon be doing that very thing. To hell with anyone who wants to be judgmental about us."

That afternoon, their third day of freedom since the final battle, Harry and his two betrothed each took meetings, Harry's in London and the Carrows at a handsome exurban home west of the city. They still had their room upstairs at the Leaky Cauldron but they turned in the key to Tom when they left.

"See you back at Hogwarts tomorrow, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry," said the twins.

"We'll get our things from the dorm," said Hestia.

"Meet you at Rosmerta's for lunch," Flora went on.

"Then we'll decide where to go next," said the twins.

Harry left via the alley while the twins crossed to the big fireplace and took the floo system to their childhood home, Carrow House.

"Mother? Father?" the twins said as they stepped out of the floo.

The room, a little study often used for entertaining small parties of visitors, was decorated in a perfectly tasteful Magical-Eclectic Style that mixed beeswax candles with angular Bauhaus floor lamps. No one was there so they went on out to the hall.

"Hello?" Hestia called as they left the study.

"Hestia? Flora?"

An older witch came trotting down the corridor from the rear of the house. Her gown would have reached her ankles and tripped her up if she hadn't pulled it up to her knees.

"Oh, where have you two been? We've been worried sick!" the witch declared.

Flora and Hestia maintained eye contact and concentrated on their secret conversation of looks and breaths and subtle hand gestures. Communication was important right now, perhaps more important than ever before.

"We were displaced," said Hestia.

"There was a big fight at Hogwarts," Flora continued.

"Of course there was!" exclaimed their mother. "The Prophet used yesterday's edition for nothing but. So many killed or badly injured. People we know! And we couldn't find out where you were or if you were even alive!"

"Mum, it worked out fine," said Flora.

"Flora's right, Mum," added Hestia. "Here we are."

"Well. Then, I suppose you'd better come right in," said Mrs. Carrow. "There is someone here to see you."

Hestia and Flora traded looks that said more, and more quickly, than ordinary speech.

"What?"

"Indeed. Wonder who?"

"Not someone awful, I hope."

"You and me both!"

The twins followed their mother down the hall to a large, formal drawing room. Most of the time the room was closed off and the windows and shutters closed against dust and sunlight. Today, the room was well-lit, the brocade drapes open in the middle and tied back in swags of the same material. Ivory sheers were between the window glass and the drapes, buffering the bright sunshine. Hester and Flora did not find the room to their taste although they were tolerant enough to allow their mother some indulgence.

"Flora, Hestia, your father and his friend, Lord Ramsey Severnbore," said Mrs. Carrow.

"Delighted," said the twins, speaking and curtsying together.

"Dears, your father has some good news, so please hear him out," asked Mrs. Carrow.

"Yes, as you know, daughters, your mother and I have been keeping our ears open for news of suitable gentlemen as prospective husbands for our darling daughters…"

Mr. Carrow went on although Flora and Hestia were looking at one another and communicating in their own special way.

"You?"

"No. Of course not."

"Surely not me?"

"How could it not be? I am completely unsuitable for the role of Lady Bore."

"Severnbore."

"Whatever. I'm sure it will be you."

"Girls!"

Mrs. Carrow was a bit emphatic.

"Lord Ramsey is a widower and very much wants to remarry," said Mrs. Carrow.

"He has come to our home especially to meet you, Hestia, and offer union of our families. You're to become betrothed," said Mr. Carrow.

Flora looked at Hestia and lifted her brows just slightly.

"Perhaps," said Flora.

She looked at her mother and flicked her eyes quickly toward the door. Mrs. Carrow got it. Flora led her sister and mother from the room. They reconvened in a little breakfast room with doors that closed and locked tight and a view of the garden to the rear of the house.

"Mother, there is no other way to put this but to put it plainly. We already belong to Harry Potter," Flora said.

Obviously, Harry's plan to be seen in Diagon Alley and introduce magical society to the notion that he'd do his part in the recovery by taking responsibility for the Carrow twins had not reached Carrow House.

"Harry Potter!?"

It was nearly a screech.

"How can you belong to Harry Potter? Has he befouled you two? Your father will have his head!" hissed Mrs. Carrow. "Makes no difference. He is underage, is he not? And no one to sign for him. Did you sign anything? Didn't think so. Well, young lady, not another word about this, ever, to anyone, understand?"

"Of course, Mother," said Hestia. "Will you require an oath? And does that one out there have a little put aside? A million? And a bit?"

"Your word will do," said Mrs. Carrow. "Or it had better. Lord Ramsey is very well-to-do. I have heard it is a substantial fortune which ought to be enough for you for the moment. He is a pureblood wizard and his estates are intact, a rarity these days. You will march right back in there and sign the betrothal agreement that is waiting for you and you will be a proper noble wife to Lord Ramsey. Harry Potter!"

Flora thought their mother was working up to spitting on the floor in her disgust at the idea of letting Harry Potter get away with her daughters.

"I'll need one or two things," said Hestia. "Help me out?"

Flora followed Hestia without another word, the twins leaving their mother to handle the diplomacy.

"He'll want to take you out," Flora said when they'd closed the door to their room. "To celebrate."

"I expect so," said Hestia as she pulled a gold chain up and out of her blouse. "Back me up if I ask for a day or two more."

"Box," said Hestia. She worked her way to the key that hung on the chain. "I need a second opinion."

Flora pulled a small wooden chest out from under her bed and brought it to Hestia's vanity. Several bats looked on from the trapezes hung at convenient places around the twins' room. Unlocking the chest, Hestia removed a glass flagon with an atomizer top and gave herself a generous application with sprays to her neck and several more to the skin between her breasts.

"Want some?" Hestia asked.

"Nah, it's your big day," Flora said.

"Might as well," said Hestia. "There are such things as contingencies."

"Perhaps you're right," Flora agreed and stood still for Hestia's perfuming services.

"Don't forget we have fittings tomorrow," said Flora as they walked downstairs.

"Can't wait," said Hestia. "If we get separated, try to get back to our room at the Leaky Cauldron."

The twins returned downstairs, all freshened up and found their parents and Lord Severnbore back in the salon.

"Right," said Hestia. "Betrothal contract?"

"Dear…" Mrs. Carrow began. She thought Hestia was being just a little bit abrupt, getting down to business with such a blunt question.

"Hestia's a solid young witch, dear," said Mr. Carrow. "Did you know she is a prize-winner in potions, Lord Ramsey?"

"She certainly has that air," said their guest. "Do you create perfumes? That scent is lovely. What is it called?"

"We've done perfumes," said Hestia. She looked at Flora. Flora nodded.

"This is called 'Lilith,'" she said.

Hestia was still looking for a parchment so she could sign her acknowledgment. Her father and Lord Ramsey Severnbore would have already signed, of course. A signature from Hestia wasn't even required for the betrothal to be valid but certain complications were avoided with the other principal's signature.

"Oh, here," said Mr. Carrow.

He stood and walked to a table where lay a heavy cardboard file. Opening the file, Mr. Carrow removed a pile of parchment covered in Gothic script, seals, signature blocks and every addition to a contract known to wizard-kind.

"Where?"

"Right…there, please," said Mr. Carrow, pointing.

Hestia opened a desk drawer and selected a red quill. She signed her name which appeared in red. Flora was ready with her wand and healed the little wound that opened in response to the use of the blood quill.

"Will you be returning home, Lord Severnbore?" asked Hestia.

"Dear, your father and I thought you might want to take his lordship for a tour of the grounds," said Mrs. Carrow. "You must have countless things to discuss."

"It's possible, I suppose," said Hestia. "If it pleases your lordship the gardens are this way."

Hestia turned without another word and left the room, walked down the central hallway to the exterior door then waited for her betrothed to open the door for them both and take her outside.

"That perfume," said Severnbore, breathing in deeply as they strolled a graveled garden path.

"Mmm…Lilith," said Hestia.

Her newly-betrothed waited for a follow-up comment but it never came.

"Are you a witch of few words, Miss Carrow?" asked Severnbore.

"Only when I have nothing to say," answered Hestia. "Do you mind witches keeping little pets, sir? I find these so useful for so many things."

Hestia withdrew her hand from the pocket of her robe and showed Severnbore a fat white mouse. The mouse looked around with its pink eyes, blinking a bit in the sunlight as Hestia stroked its head.

Severnbore snatched the mouse from Hestia's open hand, squeezed it until the mouse squeaked a single squeak and threw it backhanded into some neighboring beds. Severnbore didn't look where the mouse landed. His gait conveyed his wish to put the episode behind himself and Hestia and continue walking.

"I'll get you a proper pet," he muttered, the tone saying Hestia oughtn't bring the matter up again.

Hestia understood that she would be strolling the garden paths for a reasonable amount of time, as a gracious, young noble witch would do, but she did not believe she would learn anything more important that day. The strollers continued on, walking shoulder-to-shoulder while avoiding touching. Hestia was curious about a few things so she tailored her conversation so that Severnbore had openings into which he could insert bits of conversation about whatever interested him.

"You're wondering about Lady Severnbore, I believe," he said at one point.

"If there already is one that would be a concern," Hestia confessed.

"My wife died almost two years ago," Severnbore said. "She was a close friend of Bellatrix Lestrange. After Bellatrix escaped from Azkaban, they went out together. Something totally innocent, not what you might think, I assure you."

"Oh, yes, of course," Hestia said, smoothing the way for further revelation.

"Shopping or lunch or something," Severnbore continued. "It wasn't completely clear what it was, but something went wrong, a needless conflict with aurors or something of the sort. My wife didn't come home."

"Oh, my," said Hestia. "And the children?"

"None, sad to say," Severnbore said. "I do desire to keep trying. I expect…Sorry, I hope you are agreeable."

"Mmm…" said Hestia. "A man of affairs such as yourself must be extremely busy. I won't take up any more of your time today."

Severnbore looked a bit shocked at being dismissed.

"I'd hoped we could continue over tea or, perhaps, dinner," he said.

Hestia didn't have anything to say in response so she became a witch of few words. Severnbore did understand Hestia's message though and decided a little space conveyed at the moment could avoid a conflict, even if conflict proved inevitable, later on. Even so, she was a witch and daughter of a noble house. Certainly her prospective lord could expect her to be trainable.

"Wonderful idea, Mother," said Hestia as she re-entered the salon.

"We did cover many topics," said Severnbore. "A promising start, Miss Hestia?"

"Well said, milord," Hestia answered.

Flora and Hestia stood, silent, waiting to play their well-honed parts in the farewell rituals. Mrs. Carrow took her guest in hand and escorted him through the front door and on out to the green beyond. Flora and Hestia walked behind them with Mr. Carrow bringing up the rear. Everyone shook hands and Hestia allowed herself to be embraced in a chaste manner by Lord Severnbore. He took a moment to inhale, deeply, when his nose was in close proximity to Hestia's neck. Then the Carrows all stood back and Lord Severnbore disapparated, presumably to one of his properties.

"That went very well, dear," said Mrs. Carrow.

Hestia looked at Flora, not her mother and said, "It did."

Mr. and Mrs. Carrow would be forgiven for not getting all of the information out of the exchange as they were not party to all of the necessary background as were the twins.

"I did want to ask, Father, do I have a copy of the betrothal agreement?" asked Hestia.

"Of course, yours is updated magically if even one letter is changed on the original," Carrow answered. "Want to see it?"

"Oh, I certainly would!" said Hestia.

"It's a big day in any young, noble witch's life," said Flora. "Perhaps I will have something similar one day."

"We can hope," said Hestia, smiling a big smile.

Once back in the salon, Mr. Carrow picked up a handful of parchment, gave it a quick look and passed it on to Hestia.

"Complete with your signature," he said. "Severnbore and I signed the original at Gringotts with the appropriate goblins witnessing and applying their various seals and attestations. You are now, as his betrothed, Lord Severnbore's next of kin!"

Mr. Carrow thought himself quite the negotiator, that much was plain.

"Excuse me, I need to visit the loo," said Flora.

"Oh, I might as well take this on up," said Hestia. "Thank-you, Father."

Hestia planted a quick peck on her father's cheek and followed Flora out the door. The first thing she did upon arrival was to replenish her pocket mouse from the brass mouse habitat that dominated one whole side of the twins' room. Flora really did need the loo so Hestia sat down on her bed to wait with her mouse and the betrothal contract.

"Marry," Hestia muttered.

"Obey? Is that still a thing?"

"Bed and board, standard."

"Where are you at?" Flora asked as she came back into the bedroom.

"They left 'obey' in there!"

"Oh, Hestia, that is so medieval! Totally…totally. Father wanted you to put up with that? Well, what do you think of him?" asked Flora.

"Flora, I do not think this looks very good," Hestia replied. "I took Mousie out of my pocket and asked him if he minded a witch having a pet and do you know what he did? He snatched Mousie off of my hand and squeezed him until he squeaked and then he just threw Mousie backwards into some roses and kept walking!"

"Ohh—that is bad, very bad!" agreed Flora. "I know how much you hurt when you lose one. He belongs in the Burial Ground of Heroes!"

"Yes, before we do anything else we need to go find him, if he is still there, and give him a decent burial," said Hestia.

"And the other factor in your betrothal?" Flora asked.

"The material matter?" Hestia responded.

"That would be the one," said Flora.

"Lord Severnbore is a widower, it seems," said Hestia. "Childless. The late Missus was close to Bellatrix Lestrange and was nearby when some inopportune event transpired."

"So sad," said Flora. "Let's see…"

Flora had picked up a small book filled with lined paper.

"Your little Mousie was two hundred fifty-three," Flora said, closing the book.

"Well, then, let us do the needful and then we must make excuses to Mother and Father," Hestia said. "We mustn't miss our fitting appointment. It's tomorrow."

"At ten," said Flora as she followed Hestia out of their room.

They found the most recent Mousie in among the rose bushes. Flora avoided getting pricked by using a handy stick to pull Mousie out to the graveled path.

"Oh, my, the brute!" Flora said as she looked at the late Mousie.

The little white mouse had gone quickly, Lord Ramsey Severnbore's pinch between thumb and first finger having been sufficient to break a mouse neck. Mousie had a little blood showing on the tip of his pink mouse nose and one of his mouse eyes exhibited excessive protuberance.

The Carrow twins were outstanding potioneers. Potions need to be tested to establish the parameters of their powers. Occasionally a potion will be too strong or have an impurity in an undetectable concentration and a test subject will not survive. The methodical Carrows kept the logbook and the Burial Ground of Heroes in tribute to their mouse collaborators who had gone On.

"Dear Mousies Who Have Gone Before," Hestia intoned. "We bring you your brother, Mousie number two hundred fifty-three. He was a good mouse and did his duty right to the end. Thanks to Mousie two hundred fifty-three, Flora and I have learned an important truth, just as Mousie number one and Mousie number two hundred fifty-two, and all of the heroic Mousies in-between have taught us. We are in your debt."

"We are in your debt, Mousie," Flora said in response.

The Carrows curtsied to the Burial Ground as tradition demanded.

Mousie Number Two Hundred Fifty-Three was shrouded in a generous wrapping of facial tissues and held in state while Hestia shook several drops of Lilith perfume on the outer wrap. Hestia then knelt and used a garden trowel to dig a little grave. Flora lay their friend in his final resting place and Hestia troweled the grave closed.

"He didn't die in vain," observed Flora on the way back to the house.

"Oh, he did his duty," said Hestia. "We probably didn't honor him highly enough."

"Now I think I need to go pick up something I left somewhere over the past few days," said Flora.

"Me too," said Hestia. "What are the chances?"

"Slim, very slim," answered Flora. "Hogwarts?"

"Mmm—don't want to get stuck," said Hestia. "We need to end up in London. Then I think maybe we'll talk to Harry and advise him if he is serious he'd better put a fence around us."

"Brilliant," said Flora.

"Mu-umm," called Hestia when the twins re-entered the house. "We ordered something we have to pick up or pay extra so we're going to get it."

Mrs. Carrow came bustling down the central hall as the twins entered the salon.

"What? What are you doing? Going right out again? Wait just a…"

She heard the WHOOSH of the flames but she didn't hear the destination. Moments later the Carrow twins exited the fireplace in the main room of the Leaky Cauldron pub.

"Tom!" said Flora.

"Tom!" said Hestia.

Each awarded Tom one gracious wave of the hand on their way to the stairs.

They'd guessed correctly. Hestia knocked on the door, twice, and the door opened to reveal Harry Potter standing just inside the room, holly wand in his right hand. The twins, quite unusually for themselves, began talking over one another to relate the story of their afternoon of misadventure.

"My FATHER tried to be-TROTH me!" reported Hestia.

"Behind our backs," added Flora.

"Split us up!

"No consent!"

"Didn't even ask!"

And so on. Harry closed the door and cast a silencing charm then let the twins go on until they ran out of breath and words.

"So you're betrothed, legally?" asked Harry.

"In a way," said Hestia.

"Then how are we going to go on?" Harry asked.

"We'll wait and see," said Flora. "There aren't any decisions needed right away."

"This is some kind of magical culture thing I don't get," said Harry.

"It will all work out, Harry, we are partly convinced," Flora confided. "To be safe, Hestia will be adopting celibacy for the immediate future."

"Celibacy?" said Harry and Hestia together.

"Just enough to avoid being cursed, if there are any curses attached," said Flora. "Where is that thing, anyway?"

Hestia reached into an inside pocket of her robe and took out the betrothal contract which she handed to her sister. The other hand went into a different pocket and came out with Mousie. Harry smiled at the little rodent.

"I don't have an owl anymore, lucky for you," Harry smiled. "May I?"

Harry extended his right index finger. Hestia nodded Yes and Harry laid his fingertip on Mousie's head.

"I don't know what it is about them," Harry said. "They're so perfect. Nice coats. Clean. They take such good care of the little ones."

Flora and Hestia exchanged approving looks.

"HE won't have a problem with Lilith," said the looks.

Harry was very gallant, offering their joint room to the twins. Alternatively, he proposed escorting them to #12 Grimmauld Place and buttoning them up behind the best wards in London.

"No, we'll just finish our business and go on home," said Flora.

"Works," said Hestia. "Want to read this?"

She held up her copy of the betrothal.

Harry took the parchment and commenced reading. It took a few minutes to get used to the archaic print and he wasn't sure about some of the terms but reading through one time made Harry just a little bit angry.

"You shouldn't have had to sign this!" he fussed. "You deserve better. I didn't see anything explicitly calling down a curse on your head."

"Thank-you," mumbled Hestia. "That's encouraging."

"What do we do now?" Harry asked, looking at Flora.

"Hestia will have to go through the motions until the situation clarifies," said Flora.

"Flora!" exclaimed Hestia.

"You will," said Flora. "Don't over-excite yourself. Rub Mousie until you're back to normal."

"Okay," said Harry. "Let's do this. The two of you can go back to your parents' and we'll wait for the situation to clarify. I'll treat for ice cream when you're done with your fitting tomorrow. I'll be at Gringotts at ten for a meeting. I don't know how long. Want to come pick me up?"

"Perfect, Harry," said Flora. "Now, since, technically, Hestia has to be careful about these things, why don't you give me a kiss?"

The twins finessed the return from their errand with the assurance of practiced co-conspirators.

"We have fittings tomorrow at Twillfits and Tattings," said Hestia.

"Oh, I can't wait to wear my new dress at one of Hestia's events," said Flora, earning a special glare from Hestia.

"You went to Twillfits and Tattings?" asked their mother. "And who, exactly, will be paying?"

"We have a few galleons, gifts at Christmas and Beltane and whatnot," said Hestia. "You and Father have been very generous with us so we never had to spend everything. It adds up."

That took Mrs. Carrow by surprise. She hoped the revelation of her daughters' thrift was another good omen.

Breakfast the following morning was undertaken with a view to cultivating smooth internal relationships within the Carrow family. Hestia was determined to avoid giving her parents any cause for alarm due to the suddenly-twisted circumstances of her personal life. She had a firm belief that all complications would resolve as if on their own if events were allowed to take their natural course.

"Of course I'll come to London with you, if you don't mind!" said Mrs. Carrow at one point.

The twins looked at her in tandem, awaiting more information that would guide their joint response.

"I have waited since you were born for moments like this."

"Of course, Mother," said Hestia. "Don't you agree?"

Flora followed Hestia's lead.

"This is your big show," she said. "Let's! Girls' Day Out!"

Mrs. Carrow looked fit to explode in a mixture of pride and eager anticipation.

The fitting was scheduled for ten so at twenty 'til the witches repaired to their rooms for final necessities before reconvening in the salon.

"Leaky Cauldron?" asked Hestia.

"Certainly," answered Flora as she accompanied her mother into the green flames.

"Just passing through, Tom," called Flora as the little party crossed to the alley door.

"You are on a first name basis with the barman of the Leaky Cauldron?" Mrs. Carrow asked in a fairly demanding tone.

"Field trips," Hestia explained, leaving it there.

The fittings went well. Twillfits and Tattings were professionals, through and through. The dresses and robes were cut perfectly and basted-up for final looks, pins and chalkings. The tailors fussed and asked all the right questions.

"A little room at the waist? How do you like the hem? Below the knee is very popular, we're doing a lot of those this season. Boots? Or flats?"

The solicitude was a big part, along with superb workmanship, of the overall Twillfits experience. The tailors knew where their bread was buttered.

"How are you paying?" whispered Mrs. Carrow. Hestia was on the stool, Flora sitting beside her mother.

"Our little hoards," Flora whispered back.

Mrs. Carrow did not look convinced. She did manage to hold her tongue until they were back in the alley.

"We need to meet someone," said Flora. Her voice gave away nothing. She simply turned toward Gringotts bank.

They found Harry in the lobby, accompanied by a party of three goblins. Ragnak was senior. The witches didn't know the other two. They were, the witches presumed, bank officers of rank, just not Ragnak-level. The party had the look of a farewell, the final courtesies at the end of the meeting.

Harry turned toward the Carrows and smiled. He shook hands with the last goblin and the little party broke up. Mrs. Carrow couldn't hear well enough to get the words but the tones were all grace and mutual respect.

"So," Harry said when he walked up to the witches.

"You are Mrs. Carrow?"

He bowed. Mrs. Carrow extended her right hand. Harry moved his right hand under Mrs. Carrow's and bent at the waist, just brushing the witch's knuckles, then straightened and stepped backward one step as his hand dropped hers and returned to his side.

"An honor, Madame," he said, speaking so softly she just barely heard the words.

Mrs. Carrow flushed a little and smiled a very slight smile.

"Perhaps the honor is mine…" she began.

Harry shook his head.

"As the mother of these witches, Madame, our world is in your debt," Harry said. "Ice cream, everyone?"

Mrs. Carrow might have demurred until she could pick Harry Potter and his intentions and his past actions with her daughters apart, had it not been for the duet of affirmations from the witches in contention.

Harry strode to the bronze doors and out into Diagon Alley. He had walked the alley the day before in the company of the Carrow sisters but this time he fell in step with Mrs. Carrow, offering his arm as they descended the granite stairs. Flora and Hestia dropped in behind. All the way to Fortescue's Harry deferred to Mrs. Carrow, inclining his head toward hers to make sure he heard her words clearly the first time. He was visibly keeping an eye on their walking surface, pointing out cracks and holes that could catch a foot and lead to a twisted ankle.

Mr. Fortescue had been killed during the war but his nephew was back in business. A portrait of Mr. Fortescue hung on an interior wall, some yards of black crepe hung across the top of the frame and dropping down both sides.

"All we have is vanilla," said the young man behind the counter. "We'll be getting more flavors beginning tomorrow."

"Four vanillas then," said Harry. "Is this table here acceptable?"

"Certainly, anywhere," said the man.

Harry pulled out three chairs, one after another, getting the witches seated. Soon they were all enjoying their first Fortescue's ice cream of the post-war Diagon Alley. Harry was exceptionally astute that morning because he sensed there had been events since the last time he had seen his two betrothed witches, as indicated by their mother's chaperonage, whose significance was beyond his knowledge. He resolved to sit and not speak of anything in particular until his beloveds managed, somehow, to enlighten and guide him. He didn't have long to wait.

"Daily Prophet?" said a young witch from the doorway.

She had a pouch slung over one shoulder by a broad strap and was holding up a newspaper to show the front page.

Mrs. Carrow tilted her head, just slightly, while looking Harry in the eye. Harry received the cue and raised his hand. The news witch crossed the short distance from the door to the table and tried to hand Harry the paper. Instead, he nodded toward Mrs. Carrow while pulling change from his pocket.

The Daily Prophet was priced in knuts but Harry handed the witch a handful of sickels, not bothering to count. She got a huge smile on her face when he dropped the coins in her palm.

"Thank-you, Mr. Potter," said the witch.

"No, thank-YOU, Miss," Harry said.

Mrs. Carrow let out a gasp and flopped against the chair's back. Her eyes were a little glassy and her forehead showed beads of sweat.

"Mother?" said the twins.

In answer Mrs. Carrow just laid the paper down and slid it toward the center of the table.

"Oh, Hestia!" said Flora with a little moan.

There, above the fold was a photograph of Lord Ramsey Severnbore and his first wife, beneath a headline that said,

"Lord Severnbore, Age 48, Suffers Massive Stroke, Heart Attack"

"Oh, my," said Hestia as she spooned a little ice cream out of her cup.

Hestia had taken her current pocket mouse out for some air but now needed to pull the paper over and concentrate.

"Harry?"

Harry looked at the little mouse. Hestia clearly wanted to turn it over to Harry. He wondered why Flora didn't get the honor but Flora sat with her hands in her lap, observing.

"Oh, my, you are a cutie," Harry said, accepting the mouse from Hestia.

Harry sat with the mouse in his left hand, applying the softest, gentlest strokes he could manage to the top of the little rodent's head.

"Sudden," said Hestia as she read the paper. "Probably a longstanding condition. Victim might not have been aware. Arrangements pending."

Mrs. Carrow eyed her daughter, thinking the prospective bride was less affected by the tragedy than she was.

"Hestia, it is a good thing we ordered our new dresses in black," said Flora.

"Oh, yes, and we may need more," said Hestia. "Must I mourn for a full year, Mother?"

"I don't know, there wasn't an announcement, I've never seen anything like this," sputtered Mrs. Carrow. "Harry, you didn't know, of course, but Hestia signed her acknowledgement of the betrothal contract between Mr. Carrow and Lord Severnbore just yesterday."

"In blood," said Hestia. "So it is binding. The master contract over at Gringotts would have updated automatically."

"I see," said Harry.

Flora and Hestia looked at him, faces neutral.

"Do you?" asked Flora.

"Maybe not all the details and nuance," Harry said. "More the genuine, well-deserved concern for the tragic circumstances."

Mrs. Carrow wanted nothing as much as she wanted to corner Harry Potter someplace where he could not get away and make him tell her what sort of relations he had with her two daughters and if those were what she believed them to be, what were his intentions.

As it turned out, Harry's intentions were exactly what they had been all along. He wanted to keep the set of Carrow daughters together for as long as the three of them should live. Mr. and Mrs. Carrow's matchmaking put a little kink in the planning but in the end it all worked out. Hestia mourned properly, wearing black dresses and sober black shoes for a full year after Severnbore's death. Harry encouraged Hestia in her year of celibacy, promising to do whatever she wanted as soon as decency permitted. Meanwhile, Flora kept Harry company at night while supporting her sister by day, even including carrying out their myriad social duties wearing stylish black dresses and robes from Twillfits and Tattings.

Harry conveyed funds to the goblins of Gringotts as fast as the money came in. Repairing battle damage was not that expensive since maintenance and cleaning spells permeated Gringotts' structure. Once the goblin experts activated those the serious masonry took much less time than had been feared. In return, the bank kept a steady stream of capital going into war relief that met the need for the feeding, housing and education of the Magical Britain community.

By the end of the year of mourning, the wizarding community had gotten used to the idea of Harry Potter taking two wives. The people who knew the Carrows best were the ones most agreeable to Harry stepping up and accepting the responsibility. It did not hurt their cause at all that Hestia, who, because of the legally-binding betrothal, inherited the late Lord Severnbore's lands and fortune, bestowed the money and income upon the joint Potter-Ministry Fund for War Relief. Orphans were cared for, foster families identified, adoptions facilitated, replacement housing constructed for widows and their children.

Hestia had the long-range vision to hold onto the Severnbore lands.

Harry and his two beloveds had numerous children of their own over the years. The family lived together at #12 Grimmauld Place. Madame Walburga was much more tolerant of the Potter children than she had been her own. It might have been because they, like their mothers, were so appreciative of cobwebs and the soothing qualities of black and dark gray wall treatments.

Hestia and Flora loved little family traditions and ceremonies marking this or that significant date in the history of Harry Potter and the Carrow Twins. Their favorite recognized the approach of womanhood as the girls began maturing. Each daughter received a special present on her thirteenth birthday, along with a private counseling session with her mother and aunt.

"This is perfume," went the briefing.

A gold chain with a small vial attached was presented to the birthday girl who was advised to wear it discreetly and never discuss the vial outside the family.

"The perfume is Lilith," the briefer would continue. "We invented it. It smells nice to most people but that isn't the point. If you wear a little when you go on a date with a wizard, Lilith will reveal if going further would be a mistake for reasons of character. Maybe he just wants you physically."

"Or is really interested in your money," the other sister would chime in. "Worst of all is one who does not respect you as a witch. A knowledgeable witch with skill and initiative. Someone who can distill a nuanced perfume with layers of meaning. Lilith will reveal those things in her own special way. If he has dishonorable intentions toward you or, may Morgana spare you this knowledge, darling, if he is cruel to animals."