A/N: Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, and everyone who favorited and alerted! I changed my mind about semi-weekly updates, and will try to update every day.

So enjoy it while you can, because I'm almost finished with this ^^

Chapter 5

Harry had just told Ron and Hermione everything about his rather unexpected afternoon. Ron thought it was 'bloody brilliant', Hermione, while still happy for him, was a little more hesitant.

"Well, you don't really know her that well…" she argued, a worried frown on her forehead as she absently petted Crookshanks. Part of him thought that the only reason Ron and Hermione weren't agreeing was because they loved arguing with each other so much, but he kept that opinion to himself.

"Harry!" a familiar voice shouted. Wood came running their way. "You missed Quidditch practice! Where were you?" He seemed really angry, and Harry felt instantly guilty for not even remembering they had practice that afternoon.

"I'm sorry Wood, I went to lunch with my aunt, I forgot," he replied truthfully.

Wood frowned, his anger temporarily forgotten. "I thought all your relatives were muggles?" he asked.

But before he could respond, Ron had already taken it on himself to explain. "It's his long-lost aunt from his dad's side, she was the one yelling at Dumbledore yesterday."

Wood's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Strange… Anyway, I talked to professor McGonagall…"

Wood told Harry that she would keep the broom as long as was necessary, and that she was angry with him for not caring about Harry's wellbeing.

Harry tuned him out after he heard what he needed to hear.

/*/

Dear Harry

How are you? Quidditch and school are still keeping you busy, I suppose? How are your friends? Say hi to them for me.

It's taking longer than I thought to get myself declared alive again: British bureaucracy at it's best. They won't believe I'm alive, even though I'm standing right in front of them. I've been subjugated to a multitude of tests by both healers and aurors.

Luckily, getting the house back in order is going far smoother, and I'm grateful for it.

How are your patronus lessons going? Remus told me about those, I hope you don't mind? Are you sure you have enough time to do everything for school?

Love,

Emma

/*/

Emma,

It might be stressful and busy, but that's nothing compared to Hermione's workload. She has more classes than she has time for, literally. She has some classes at the same time as others! Ron's been trying to figure it out, but I don't really care, it's her life, right?

Yes, Quidditch is keeping me busy, Wood's upped our training schedule to six nights a week! Which leaves me with one night to do all my homework, but so far I'm coping.

I'm sorry to hear about the bureaucracy thing, do you think it'll be resolved before the summer starts?

I don't really mind, I'm sure by now the entire school knows I'm taking those lessons. I still haven't managed to cast a good patronus, but at least I don't faint every time anymore. Professor Lupin says that's a good sign.

And like I said, so far I'm managing, I'm sure I'll be fine.

Harry

P.S.: What house?

P.P.S.: Professor McGonagall still hasn't given my Firebolt back, and the match against Ravenclaw is getting really close. Can't you write her, or something?

/*/

Dear Harry,

To answer your first question: the house your father and I grew up in; Potter manor, you'll see it this summer, I'm sure of it. Even the British don't take that long.

As for your second question: as you (future) legal guardian I can ask her what has been done and what she's planning to do, and yes, I can force her to give it back to you immediately¸ but she's right: I'd rather not see you thrown off that broom fifty feet in the air again. Right now, I'm a little more concerned about your health.

At least you still have my Nimbus 2002. It might not be as good, but you told me yourself you didn't want another broom until your Nimbus 2000 broke, and you won plenty of games on that one. It's the Seeker, not the broom (unless it's a comet, or cleansweeps, or one of those other school brooms, those are just awful).

Love,

Emma

P.S.: I'll definitely be able to make it to the Quidditch game, and I might even visit a little sooner. Maybe I can get you out of Divination some day?

/*/

Dear Moony

Maybe you should let Harry practice the shape of his patronus without the boggart sometimes? I know that's what worked for me, at any rate.

How are you?

Love

Emma

/*/

Emma,

We have a manor?

I guess you're right, and I realize that, but I can't help it; it was mine for a few glorious hours until Hermione told McGonagall… Why do adults always have to be sensible anyway?

Please get me out of Divination! If I didn't have to take at least two electives, I'd have dropped that class long ago. I don't think one lesson has gone by without Trelawny predicting my untimely death. It's getting really annoying.

Harry

P.S.: I forgot to ask you, but can you sign my permission slip to go to Hogsmeade? This is the first year we're allowed, and uncle Vernon wouldn't sign it.

/*/

Dear Emma,

That might be a good idea. He's making good progress, even though he doesn't see it yet. At least now I don't think he'll fall and break his neck, or worse, if the dementors show up again.

I think he's been sneaking into Hogsmeade somehow, though. I gave him a butterbeer, and he recognised the taste. Any clues as to why?

I'm not fantastic, my monthly problem is still as much an issue now as it was back then, I'm just grateful for Snape's… help.

How is your legal quest going? If you need any help, I'm just an owl away.

Remus

/*/

Harry

Yes, we have a manor. We are so you kids won't have to be. And yes, I've signed it (though if professor McGonagall will accept it is another matter, I'm not your legal guardian yet), it's enclosed in the envelope.

Love,

Emma

/*/

Emma

I got it back! McGonagall finally gave me my Firebolt back; nothing wrong with it. I'll give you your broom back after the match.

Rona and Hermione aren't speaking anymore, though: her cat ate his rat.

anyway, see you soon!

Harry

/*/

I arrived at Hogwarts early Saturday for Harry's Quidditch game. It felt tremendously strange to suddenly have a teenager under my care (however unofficial it was at the moment), and to have to be there for sports games, and to encourage him to do his homework. It wasn't a bad feeling, really, but I'd been on my own for quite a few years now.

Idly, I wondered it my friend Carrie from Salem felt this way: she already had two kids of her own.

I had flooed to the kitchens so at least I wouldn't have to pass any dementors or do any stairs, but it seemed Harry had beaten me to breakfast. I could barely make him out behind all the admirers who wanted to hold his new broom.

When I finally got there, he was talking to a blonde Slytherin, but didn't seem to happy about it, judging by the scowl on his face.

"Aren't you at the table, young man?" I asked politely, casually coming to stand next to my nephew.

The blonde – flanked by two rather unintelligent-looking goonies – and had the audacity to look down his nose at me. "And who do you think you are?" he asked haughtily, obviously convinced he was better than me.

I raised an eyebrow, who did this little punk this he was? But anger wouldn't solve this…

I put on my best bimbo smile and stuck out my hand. "Hi, my name is Emma!" I said in a disgustingly perky voice.

The boy – his face seemed really familiar for some reason – was thrown off balance, and didn't reply. His goonies simply stared straight ahead.

I rolled my eyes and withdrew my hand. "And I'm also an adult, here to visit my nephew, so if you don't mind, you can get your peroxide ferrety face out of my way, so I can sit with him," I said in a normal voice, and lightly shoved past him so I could sit at the Gryffindor table. Harry sat down next to me, and, encouraged by my questions about the firebolt, ignored the blonde.

"Nice one, Emma," he said quietly once the boy had left, his cronies trailing behind him.

I smiled at him, and claimed a plate for myself, I'd skipped breakfast in order to get here on time, so I was ravenous. "Wow, you eat almost as much as Ron," Harry said, eyeing my plate. The redhead in question looked up as well. It occurred to me that their other friend, Hermione, wasn't there.

I shrugged in response to his comment. "I didn't eat dinner yesterday. Where's your other friend?" I asked to the two boys.

Ron's face darkened. "Her cat ate my rat," he muttered darkly.

I raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction, who shrugged in response. "So I hear. What do you know about cat, Ron?" I asked politely, taking another bite from a piece of toast.

The redhead frowned. "I don't know, they're predators, pretty independent, I suppose…"

I smiled at him. "True, and what do you think would happen if your friend had locked it in her room?"

His frown deepened, and he stared at his plate. "I don't know."

"It would've gone mad, being restricted like that, and I think Hermione loved her cat just as much as you loved your rat. She didn't set her cat on your rat on purpose, did she?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Just think about it, Ron, she couldn't have helped it. Even if she'd locked her cat in her dorm room, it would've found a way out, I think you said it might be part Kneazle, Harry?" I asked, turning to my nephew. He nodded.

"I'm not telling you you have to forgive her on the spot, but you might go a little easier on her, okay?" I said, and changed the subject to the upcoming match.

We chatted until the teams had to leave to get changed, so I accompanied Ron and Lupin, who fell in step beside us.

"Good morning, professor," I said, grinning at him. Ron mumbled an excuse and sped off toward some other Gryffindor boys.

He smiled back, ignoring the slight jibe behind my words. "I like it, you know, being a teacher. I prefer some classes over others, like my sixth year Hufflepuff and Gryffindor class is particularly talented, or even Harry's class, which is with Slytherins. As cliché as it sounds, I love seeing their faces light up when they learn something new."

I bumped my shoulder into his – which was quite a feat, since he was almost a foot taller than me. "Come on, teacher-boy, let's get going, I don't want to be late to the game."

A/N: Please review! Because reviews are like puppies and rainbows and unicorns; they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside ^^