This story is based on A Happy Accident: 70 Years by the amazing Njchrispatrick. It's cool, you should go and check it out.

Shit.

The ink spread over the paper as the pen snapped in half. With a sigh, he cleaned up, the remains being binned.

Harry's head fell into his hands. No matter how hard he tried, nothing he did went right. There was fog in his brain, a wrench in the works. The cogs weren't turning over, his mind was out of oil to maintain the cycle. His fingers were being terrifyingly stubborn, often doing the opposite of what he wanted. Typing was a slog, his knee was constantly jigging, the chair he was sitting on became unbearably bumpy despite the fact he bought it. It was a feeling that hadn't wormed its way through the door in a long time. It took Harry a large amount of effort to even admit to feeling it. Here he was, living one of the most extraordinary lives, yet he was feeling like this. There was no other way about it, though.

Harry Potter was bored.

It was paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. Never a break. Never a chance to lie down. He understood the necessity of it, he really did, but was it so hard for him to have half an hour to just sit down and rest his eyes? Apparently so, according to the indomitable Nick Fury. The assignment he was currently working on was going to be interesting in two weeks. How could visiting the Wizarding World to investigate dark dealings not be? Currently, though, he was filling out sheet after sheet with information that SHIELD didn't know. The work was deathly boring, and it showed in the way his hand dragged over the paper, in how his writing slanted and how his eyes were half-lidded, glazed over almost all of the time as he regurgitated facts and quirks that (to him) were common knowledge.

As much as he hated it, stopping would be the worst thing he could do right now. It was just so dull…

A tapping at the window of his office jerked him out of the doze he was sinking into. He glanced up, hand still scrawling across the paper, and saw a tiny whirlwind of an owl flapping madly, a letter attached to its' leg with a leather strap. Harry instantly recognized Besmadillo, the offspring of Ron's elderly owl Pigwidgeon. When he first heard the name it made him groan. Just like Pigwidgeon, it slowly grew on him, until he was now strangely fond of it. What he was not fond of was the ridiculously manic nature of the small creature.

Harry jumped up and opened the window, letting Besmadillo into his study. She shot in. Unsurprisingly she crashed right into his dresser, falling to the ground with a dull 'thump.' He ignored the little drama queen (the owl was scarily similar to Winona Weasley) and waited for her to right herself up. With a sassy hoot, she straightened her feathers and flew up to his desk, sticking her leg out.

"Not until you apologise."

She glared at him. Owls from the Wizarding World always seemed to have an incredible level of intelligence and wit, including a distasteful scowl that would give Natasha Romanoff a run for her money. It was clear that she wanted him to apologise. For what, he didn't know.

"No, I won't. If anyone needs to apologise, it's you. You crashed into my dresser." He crossed his arms, tapping his foot. This distraction was welcome, even though he did want to open the letter.

Besmadillo put her foot down. She was calculating something. Harry could see the cogs in her head-turning. He groaned. How could an owl have a mind that worked better than his? Calculations done, she swooped down and grabbed a piece of paper in her beak, bringing her talons up close to the edge. How… The devious little owl was threatening to tear his paperwork. That was it. If he had to apologise to an owl, he would. He still wasn't quite sure what he was apologising for, but he would make up a reason as he spoke.

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry." She gave him a pointed look, hooting a low warning. "I'm sorry that I...live in America and you had to fly so far?" She dropped the paper and offered the letter again, hooting in content. "Yeah, that must have been hard on your wings. Want to stay overnight so you can rest?" Besmadillo hooted once, before shaking her leg urgently at Harry. She looked about ready to keel over in exhaustion. He took it off, watching with amusement as she settled down right where she was, becoming a mass of fluffed up feathers. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

Harry took the letter and went out to the lounge, sitting down on the couch. A cold tea sat on a coaster, leftover from that morning. Damn. He completely forgot about it. No matter. He shot a quick warming charm and a refreshing spell at it. Now it was good as new. The letter was crisp, obviously the doing of Hermione. He opened the envelope and pulled the letter out, picked up his tea and began to read:

Hi Harry.

How have you been? We haven't heard from you in months and are missing you. Your job must be hectic. Don't worry, we aren't mad at you. Just disappointed. Kidding.

The handwriting changed here, from Ron's untidy printing to Hermione's immaculate letters.

I am so sorry about that, Ron doesn't know how to follow the instruction of a nice letter. We arent' disappointed, just missing you. You should come over to England soon, things have changed a great amount since you were last here. For example, Gringotts now has a human teller. No one quite knows how that happened, but I think that it is simply wonderful. Muggle technology is also being introduced to Wizarding Britain. I'm actually in charge of the experiments and am having the most wonderful time, both with the experimenting and showing the Pureblooded bigots that they're way of life isn't always the answer. Ron has been promoted again and is now one of the primary Aurors. In a few years, he could be Head of Department, which I think is amazing. He's practically glowing every time we talk about it.

This letter also serves another purpose other than being a simple 'you should come and see us, knob' wake up call. Harry snorted at Hermione's insult. It seemed that Ron did rub off on her slightly over the years. A few short years ago she would never have used such a casual insult. She also didn't know how to follow her own instructions about a nice letter either. Ah, classic Hermione. In two weeks, on the 18th of October, Winona is turning eleven. We would love it if you could come to her birthday party, just like you do every year. She misses her Godfather. Rose and Hugo also want to see you, quite badly. I'm getting rather sick of explaining that you don't live in England like most of our friends.

I hope that Besmadillo is behaving alright. I wanted to send Ulysses, as she is a larger owl and travels long distances better, but the little creature insisted on being the one to go. Ron was firmly on her side, which I did find rather frustrating. He said 'Come on, give her a chance to shine. She'll peck my eyes out if you don't.' I suppose that is true, the owl is a menace when she doesn't get out often enough. Harry chuckled. She certainly made it, just in time to fall asleep on his desk.

We hope you can get leave for a few days to come and see us. Please let your ever mysterious boss give it to you. We can't wait to see you.

Love from,
Ron and Hermione

There was a P.S below their names, written by the shaky hand of a child.

P.S. Please come to my party, I miss you. From Winona.

Harry smiled fondly. He couldn't not go. They were right, it had been months since the last time he talked to them, even sent a letter. He'd been so busy that it had clouded his vision, made him forget about his family in England. Asking for leave now would be a bad idea when the work he'd been assigned wasn't completed. Knowing Nick Fury, the superior strategy would be to complete the paperwork and electronic work extra fast, then ask for a few days leave. It would a slog, leaving him little more than a zombie at the end, but if he got to see his friends, and little (not so little anymore, he told himself) Winona, then it would be worth it.

He downed the tea in one gulp, not even wincing at the too-hot temperature. He cracked his knuckles and jumped up, walking back into his study.

Time to get to work.

Sleep.

Harry desperately needed to sleep. For the last week, he'd been running on fumes, using his magic to keep him awake. In his fervor, tea was abandoned for coffee, despite how much he despised the bitter liquid. Coffee was then abandoned for raw magic, refusing to let himself fall asleep. It was a level of stupid that would impress even Ron, that would cause Hermione to go into a fit and would cause Molly to slap him silly and then tuck him into a bed so tight that he couldn't get out, even with his enhanced strength.

That didn't matter, though. What mattered was that the paperwork was done, five days ahead of schedule. There was now a possibility that Nick Fury would let him have a week of leave before beginning the mission in England. And it wasn't like he would be sitting idle when he was over. Every spare moment he could scrounge up, outside of reuniting with his friends and family, would be spent on the mission. Gathering intel, scoping locations and such. If there was one thing that Fury liked, it was the ability to get a leg up on whoever they were going up against. Harry offered the perfect opportunity. He was sure that Fury wouldn't turn down the chance to have that advantage. This was going to be used to his advantage.

Sleep. SLEEP.

Harry tamped down on the voice, silencing it. That was something he could do after he visited Fury and asked for leave. He could sleep once he got permission. That was now his mission. Ha. The mission for permission. That was strangely funny, with the rhyming. Mission for permission.

How was he going to pull it off?

Walking there wouldn't be an option. Stumbling through the halls of the New York SHIELD Headquarters (where Fury was currently situated, with the clean-up from the Battle still going on) would only invite questioning stares and ignite the gossip fire. The best option, to Harry's sleep-deprived brain, was to apparate straight into Fury's office. He knew what it looked like and where he needed to go, so there was absolutely no problem. He grabbed the massive file containing the paperwork and laptop, turned on his heel, disappearing with a crack.

It was a problem.

When he landed in Fury's office, he was greeted with two things. The first was his face becoming good friends with the floor as he came out of the crushing vortex. The second was searing pain, in his torso and left arm. With a detached sort of interest, he took in how his arm was missing below the elbow, how his shirt, previously white, was now stained crimson. Huh. That was not the welcome he was expecting. It wasn't a big deal, he would heal, but that didn't mean it was painless. It hurt like a bitch. Unfortunately, the pain wasn't enough to pull him out of his delirious state. All it did was make him give a small giggle.

"Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Fury growled, holstering his gun. "And why is your arm missing?"

Harry leapt to his feet, snapping to attention and giving a mocking salute. He swayed slightly. "I just got splinched, sir. It will grow back. Doesn't mean it's painless. The more you know. Also, shooting hurts." Fury's eyes widened slightly. Harry didn't notice. "And I'm here to ask for a week of leave, before the assignment."

"Of course shooting hurts, you teleported into my office." Fury scowled at Harry. "And why are you asking for this leave?"

"My god-daughter Winona's birthday is on the eighteenth and I want to go. Plus, I'll still be doing the mission, gathering intel and such. It'll be a nice advantage." He scooped the paperwork up off the floor, nearly falling over himself as he barely managed to keep the contents inside it. "I've finished the paperwork section. Here, I have it."

"I can see that."

"Huh."

Fury took the file, quickly perusing through it. "This is all up to date. What I want to know is how you completed it so quickly. This should have taken you another week at least."

Harry grinned, tapping his nose. "Who 'nose', Director." A hysterical giggle burst from his lips.

"Potter, how long has it been since you last slept?"

"A week, sir. Magic can do wonderful things, like keeping me awake so I can do the paperwork. I do feel slightly woozy, though. Is this normal?" He cocked his head to the side, rather like a dog. His body was beginning to feel both weighed down and feather-light in the same moment. It was a strange sensation.

"That...is unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

"Okay, here's the deal. I will give you the 'leave' as you put it if you do the work you promised. You can catch up with your friends as much as you want, as long as you get the work done. This is a one-time thing, and I'm letting you do it on one condition?"

"Mmm?"

"Get some goddamn sleep."

"Okay."

Harry, thinking what he was about to do was a brilliant idea, promptly collapsed on the floor, snoring louder than Hagrid. Fury gave a suffering sigh, calling some low-level staff to take the weirdest wizard he'd ever met back to Stark Tower. While he waited, he added two facts to Harry's file:

The first was a note to find out more about the healing abilities he showed. The second was to ensure that he got the sleep he needed, lest he became worse than Tony Stark.

Now that was a thought that made even Nick Fury think twice.

After two amazing days of sleep, Harry woke. Right, leaving for England. He got the leave. That was the last thing he could remember….shit. He had to go and fall asleep in Fury's office. What a dick move. Sleepy him was a bit clueless. He made a note to apologise to Fury the next time he saw him.

Half an hour later, he was showered, packed and standing in the lounge with his shrunk down and placed on his belt. He said goodbye to the rest of the team, made a portkey, and positively guffawed at their expressions as he disappeared off to Ron and Hermione's house in a vortex of rainbow light. Tony would be having an especially good time with what he'd just seen.

No matter how many times he travelled by Portkey, he hated it. The whirling, washing machine like sensation just didn't sit well with him. Even after all his years with SHIELD, he still couldn't land on his feet after using the Portkey. It was a source of great amusement for his friends. Not so much him.

Here came the gale of laughter.

He landed in a pile of limbs in the middle of their lounge, groaning. Strangely there was silence. Then:

"Ha! Still haven't mastered the portkey have you?"

"Ron, don't be so rude," chided Hermione, clearly on the edge of bursting into laughter herself.

"Hardyharhaar, very funny."

"Yes, it is."

"Hermione, don't be so rude."

He dragged himself to his feet. "Nice to see you too."

"Oh, who are we kidding. It's good to see you too, Harry." He was swept up in a massive group hug. Okay. This was nice. He'd missed this. "You do need to come over more often."

"I don't get much time off, you know that."

"You should. That boss of yours works you far too hard. Whatever job you have, you're far too dedicated to it," huffed Hermione.

"Now that's something I never thought I would hear," chuckled Harry. "Hermione Granger, who has assimilated your brain?"

"Logic and reason."

"It was me," whispered Ron. "I corrupted her."

Their conversation was cut off by the pattering of feet. Several pairs of feet. Four pairs of feet. Little feet. Harry smiled, knowing exactly what was coming.

Winona, Rose, Hugo and Teddy burst into the room. The first three, he was expecting. Teddy, he was not. He wasn't complaining, though. He got to see his god-son. This was the best type of surprise.

His thoughts were cut off as a wave of children engulfed him. He chuckled.

"Hello. How are you guys?"

A small cacophony answered him as they all gabbled answers at the same time.

Hermione tutted. "Now, what have I told you about speaking at the same time?"

"To not to?" said Hugo, hair flopping into his eyes.

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm good!"

"Me three." Hugo still mixed up his numbers sometimes, it seemed.

"Me four!" Teddy grinned, keeping up with the theme. Despite being fourteen, he loved hanging out with his cousins in all but blood.

"I'm excellent," said Rose, sniffing. Harry did a double take. That was exactly how Hermione used to speak. It was uncanny.

"That's great to hear, you guys."

Rose tugged on his sleeve. "We're playing Quidditch. Wanna come play with us?"

"How could I say no?"

Over a glass of wine that night, a severely frazzled Harry sat in an armchair, eyes still wide in fright. Those kids...they were something else. How they had so much energy, were so smart and so mischievous at the same time. They were a perfect mix of Hermione and Ron, and while that would usually be a good thing, when they swarmed him, it wasn't. He loved them to bits, but they were scary. Very, very scary. Dispatching enemy soldiers and taking down rogue operations? No problem. But the children?

They scared him.

"Couldn't handle them, could you?"

"No it isn't that," he said, taking another sip of wine. Just because he couldn't get drunk didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy the drink. "I just...wasn't expecting them."

"Yeah, right. If that's true then I'm a flobberworm."

"I...am not going to dignify that with a response," said Harry.

"Harry, it's okay to admit that four kids overpowered you. It happens to us all the time. We're pretty much carpet now."

"That is the saddest thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well...Rose, what are you doing up?"

In the doorway, seven-year-old Rose stood, clutching a teddy bear and leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes were glistening with tears. "I had a bad dream."

Ron outstretched his arms. "Come here, sweetheart." She ran over and launched herself into his arms, cuddling down. Ron ran his fingers through her hair, rubbing comforting circles on her back. Harry smiled softly. Ron was such a good father. One day, he wished to live up to his example...if he ever had kids. He wanted to, but that wasn't in the immediate future. Hermione was the best mother her kids could ask for, always there when they asked for her, comforting them when they needed it, but being stern when they did the wrong thing.

"What happened in it?" asked Hermione. Rose shook her head, refusing to speak. "Okay. Do you want to stay out here with us for a while." A nod. "You will have to go back to bed soon, though."

"I could take her if you want," offered Harry.

"Would you like that?" asked Ron. Once again, Rose nodded. He smiled at Harry. "Seems you have yourself a little fan, Mr Potter." He repositioned Rose so she was lying next to him and held her close. Hermione went to sit next to Ron, sandwiching their daughter between them.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was lead along the hallway by Rose. Her grip on his hand was iron. It was funny, the second she left the lounge, her entire demeanour changed. Almost as if she was keeping a secret of sorts. He couldn't imagine what it was but knew it wasn't normal. Perhaps she was more of a trickster than he gave her credit for.

"We're nearly there," she said, marching right past her bedroom and into what was known officially as the second lounge. It was more of a playroom, though the toddler was toned down now. On the wall was a beautiful mural of Hogwarts, courtesy of Luna and Dean, who were both marvellous artists. Bean bags were lying around, a colourful rug on the floor, and a wall of boxes filled to the brim with toys. These kids never wanted for anything, courtesy of both Ron and Hermione, but especially Ron, who knew what it was like to grow up wanting for things. It wasn't exactly tidy, no matter how many times Hermione went through it.

"What are you up to, missy?"

Sitting in a circle were Rose, Teddy and Hugo. Rose plopped down next to Teddy. Harry sighed and sat down, his curiosity getting the better of him. They had something planned. It seemed that Rose was the actor of the group, great at getting what she wanted. It reminded him even more of an eleven-year-old Hermione. There was no answer to his question, so he tried again.

"What've you got planned?"

"Can you tell us a story?"

Harry blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting. He wasn't complaining, though. A story was something he could do. He was full of them.

"Of course I can. We're going to have to stay quiet, so your parents don't catch us."

"What do you think we were doing?" said Teddy, reclining back into a bean-bag.

"Formulating a genius plan, that's what."

"It was my idea," announced Winona proudly. She sat up straight, puffing out her chest.

"Winona Weasley, planner extraordinaire," said Harry. Her grin only widened, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Well, what story do you want to hear?"

"We don't know. Mum said you were good at telling them, and you won't be here for long, so we wanted to ask you now."

Harry thought for a second before the perfect story came to his mind. It was one of adventure, intrigue and danger, but also family and love. And so, he began.

"This is the story of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks…" As he was talking, Harry didn't miss Teddy's beaming smile. It made a warmth fill him that he hadn't felt for a long time. It was comforting, enveloping him.

One by one, they all fell asleep. Harry drifted off soon after Teddy, who was the last of the kids to fall asleep. He wasn't a kid anymore. The thought of it amazed Harry. Just yesterday he was holding the tiny baby with colour-changing hair. Now he was a young man who he was incredibly proud of.

Of course, the next morning, Ron and Hermione just had to sneak a photo.

Two days before Winona's birthday, Harry travelled to the Ministry of Magic. His destination was the Department of Mysteries. There was something there he remembered, something vague, something that might be able to aid his assignment. Inside the Department of Mysteries, his goal was to reach the Death Chamber, the room that still sent chills up his spine whenever he thought about it. Going there was wholly necessary, though.

After all, when you have a potential necromancer on your hands, half measures were not an option.

I'm so sorry for the delay. Things happened that I wasn't anticipating, such as my girlfriend breaking up with me over text. She didn't even bother to call. I did try to get this out as quickly as possible. It was meant to be one chapter, but my brain froze after Monday. Again, I am so sorry. I'll make up for it with some awesome action in the next chapter. Also, don't worry, this is setting up the big finale for this story. I'm going to try and get the next part out extra fast, in around three days, so stay tuned for that.

I am going to be incorporating the Animagus transformation into the story at some point in the future, which leads to the Question of the Week.

Question of the Week: What Animagus form do you think my version of Harry should have? What would your ultimate form be?

Sincerely (for a few days),
Mariadoria