"You went to Hogsmeade yesterday?" George asks.
Harry looks up from his plate. As promised, he showed up for Sunday dinner at the Burrow. Fortunately Molly seems to have finally forgiven him for staying at Grimmauld. Or at least given up complaining about it.
"Um, yeah," he says, feeling stupid for not being prepared to talk about his visit.
George leans on the table. "How did the students seem? Eager to part with their sickles?"
"Uh," Harry says, not really sure how to answer that. He hadn't really been paying attention to the shops.
But George doesn't seem to need an answer. "I'm still thinking about taking over Zonko's. Just not sure it's worth the rent for empty summers and the odd Hogsmeade weekend."
"Did you see Ginny?" Bill asks.
"Yeah," he says, a series of select memories rising up in his mind. His first glance of her crossing the room towards him, a shared smile, her shoulder pressing into his as she almost fell, a hug shared under the trees.
It was really nice seeing you again, Harry.
"Oh, did you?" Molly says. "How is she?"
"She seemed…good," Harry says, barely resisting the bizarre urge to squirm in his chair.
"More importantly, is she still seeing that plonker?" Bill asks. He turns to look at Fleur. "What was his name?"
Harry frowns, gravity seeming to return with a lurch. He can only think of one person who was anywhere near Ginny other than Tobias. "You mean Dean?"
"Dean?" Bill says. "There's a Dean now? Who the bloody hell is that?"
George snorts. "Seems our little sister is making her way around the school quite efficiently."
Fleur presses her lips together in disapproval. "Your sister's affaires de coeur are not your business."
"Well, how about Harry's then?" George asks, propping his hand up on his chin like he's about to get some salacious gossip.
"Me?" Harry asks, feeling his heart take an erratic beat.
Bill turns to look at him. "Oh, yes. We were all surprised to see you come back on your own."
Harry blinks. People kept saying that at the pub yesterday too. "I told you, Ron and Hermione are finishing up helping the Grangers sell their house and pack everything up."
George snorts. "Is it possible he's even thicker than before he left? We were referring to the witch. Blonde. Pretty. Clearly adoring."
It takes Harry a while to figure out who they could possibly be talking about. Then it hits him like a ton of bricks. "You mean Cass?"
Harry is going to murder Ron when he gets back. Did he really write to his family about that?
"Is that her name?" Bill asks. "They didn't mention it in the papers."
Harry feels his stomach lurch. "The papers?"
"Oh, yes," George says, smiling fondly as if over a cherished memory. "It was quite the thing for a few weeks there in January. Pictures of you and your lovely paramour. Speculation of whether or not you would settle long-term in Australia or if you would bring her home to make an honest witch of her."
Harry stares at him in absolute horror. "She's not—that's not—we weren't—"
"Take a breath, Harry," Bill says, patting him on the shoulder. "Mum's just glad you haven't been wooed away from the country by an Australian tart."
"William Weasley," Molly scolds.
"She isn't a tart," Harry feels the need to defend. "She's a friend. And I can't believe anyone back here would care one way or the other. I must be boring by now."
"Oh, Harry," George says, giving him a pitying look. "You are in for some surprises."
He remembers being mobbed at the pub and the crowd of people at the twins' shop. For some reason, he can't help but think of what Cass told him. You're the kind of trouble I have no interest in. The food in his stomach seems to turn to rocks.
After dinner, Molly and Fleur lower their heads together, sending Harry very unsubtle looks from time to time.
George and Bill turn to each other and laugh.
"Best be on the lookout for whatever that is, mate," Bill says to Harry.
Sure enough, after a restless night's sleep, Harry's barely finished breakfast when Fleur sweeps into Grimmauld Place.
She glances around the entryway with distaste. "Molly and I agree that if you are going to live here, there will have to be some major changes."
Harry opens his mouth to protest, but Fleur spears him with a look so sharp she must be taking lessons from her mother-in-law.
"Okay, sure," Harry relents, not having the energy or, honestly, the will to take on Fleur or Molly over it. Let alone both of them. If they want to fix the place up, they are more than welcome to it.
She gives him a brilliant smile that he can't help but feel the impact of. He shakes his head to clear it, deliberately looking away from her. "But you have to work with Kreacher," he says, trying to sound stern.
"What?" she asks.
He stares somewhere past her shoulder, refusing to budge on this. "It's his home. He should have a say."
Fleur still seems a little uncertain, but nods all the same. "If you insist."
"I do."
After a very surreal set of introductions, Fleur and Kreacher spend most of the day poking around the house. Kreacher looks utterly mystified to be consulted, but adjusts quickly enough. If there is one thing Kreacher can be counted on to do, it's to be very protective of the house.
For his part, Harry just does his best to stay out of their way.
That evening, he's pretty exhausted despite not having done much all day. He didn't sleep well the night before, his thoughts endlessly spinning. It's the same again tonight. He just can't quite seem to drift off no matter how tired he is.
He's lying in bed reading a book on wards that Bill lent him, and it's interesting enough to hold his attention, even if he wishes it weren't. Maybe he should switch to Hogwarts: A History or something. That would definitely put him to sleep. It's early still though, so he doesn't bother swapping books. Maybe he will if he's still up at midnight.
It takes a moment for the familiar humming sound to penetrate Harry's concentration, but then he's scrambling up, the book falling to the floor as he reaches for the parchment and his wand on the bedside table.
Harry? Are you still up? Ginny's message says.
He immediately digs around for a quill, summoning a bottle of ink from the small writing table on the other side of the room. In his haste, he doesn't think that through particularly well, and he ends up with a lap full of ink. Cursing, he charms it back up, but by this point it feels like it's been ages since Ginny's first message.
Yes. Hi. I'm here, he scrawls, immediately tapping the sheet with his wand.
He waits impatiently for a response. Enough time passes that he starts to worry that she gave up or went to sleep. But then her next message comes, her handwriting spilling across the parchment.
Oh, good. Hi. I didn't want to bother you, but I just really needed to apologize again. For Saturday. For just disappearing like that. For not being there. I don't want you to think I didn't want to be there. Because I did. So, I'm sorry. Again. And now I am going to stop rambling.
Harry lets out a shaky laugh at the tumble of words, and part of that, he has to admit, is blinding relief. Ever since finding out about him and Cass being in the papers, he's been torturing himself, wondering if maybe Ginny left the pub on purpose to avoid him. Which doesn't actually make any sense, because she still came back and asked him to walk her up to the castle and laughed with him and hugged him. Of course, that could just mean she didn't see it.
Or just didn't care. They're friends after all.
He has no idea how to figure any of that out though, so instead writes back, I didn't take it personal, I promise.
Good. I hoped you hadn't. But it's been bugging me ever since Saturday.
Then you should have written sooner, he writes, not liking the idea that she's been beating herself up about it.
Yeah. Maybe I should have.
He stares down at her words, feeling the rising pressure to come up with something, anything to say. He just wants her to keep writing, doesn't want this to end.
She gets there first, but rather than saying goodnight, she asks, So what are you doing?
He lets out a breath in relief. Reading a book, believe it or not.
Her response is immediate. You know how to read?
Shut it, he writes, smiling. I'm alternating between Quidditch memoirs and a book on wards.
Not revising for your NEWTs?
Ugh. Not you too. I get enough of that from Hermione.
Hey, I'm the one talking with you instead of writing my Potions essay. Hermione would be appalled at both of us.
Good point. She can probably sense it from all that distance away. You should expect an owl sometime Wednesday.
Something to look forward to. So, tell me about this book you're reading.
You really don't want to write that Potions essay, do you?
Nope.
Harry smiles, settling back and writing to her late into the night about the weirdest wards in the book.
In morning Charms, Ginny is paired with Luna in one corner of the classroom.
They are working on non-verbal spells, which hypothetically should make the classroom too quiet to cover any side conversations, but no one is doing all that well so far with the incredibly difficult skill. Meaning there's plenty of cursing and grumbling to cover Ginny's voice.
"You know the parchments you charmed for me last summer?" she asks Luna.
Luna doesn't look up from the piece of torn cloth she is trying to mend non-verbally. "Yes. Of course," she says. "Are they still functioning well?"
"Yeah. Great," Ginny says. "The charms haven't faded or anything. I was just wondering… Is it possible to fix them so you can send messages without having to do the spells after each one? Like, just be able to write back and forth immediately?"
When she wrote to Harry to apologize the night before, she had no idea the conversation would go on so long, or that she would enjoy it so much. The only annoying part was the logistics of sending messages.
She isn't at all sure that they'll even write to each other like that again, but she figures looking for a solution can't hurt.
Luna looks up from the table. "It's important to you."
"Oh, no," Ginny says, forcing herself to not look away from her probing gaze. "It's just something I thought might be useful. But it's fine without it."
Luna holds her gaze. "I'm certain it's possible. I may even know where to look."
"Really?" Ginny says, trying not to sound too eager. "If you tell me what you're looking for, I could search the library."
Luna considers that. "It might be more efficient for me to do that myself."
"Maybe we could do it together," Ginny says, not wanting to make Luna do all the work.
"Oh, yes," Luna says, beaming. "That would be so much fun."
"Great," Ginny says. She looks at the cloth, taking her own turn with the non-verbal spell. She tries four times, but at best the cloth only looks slightly less frayed.
"Do you think we could start after dinner?" Luna asks.
Ginny grins. "Definitely."
They spend two hours in the library, researching specific charms as well as how to integrate and modify them to fulfill their specific needs.
"You know," Ginny says, "you should sell these. The charmed parchments."
"Why would I do that?" Luna asks.
"Well, if I find them useful, I imagine others would as well."
"Is there someone else who wants a pair?" she asks, looking confused. "I could easily make another set."
Ginny shakes her head. "No, Luna. I was thinking more like you could manufacture and sell them. On a larger scale."
"No," Luna says, turning back to the books. "That doesn't interest me."
"Well, if you don't want to sell them, you could at least sell the charms. You know, the process of making them. My brother might be interested."
"You can just give him the charms, if you like," Luna says, still supremely uninterested.
"Luna," she says. "You deserve credit for what you've invented."
"I'm just trying to help a friend," Luna points out.
Ginny touches her hand. "And I really appreciate that. But at least consider what you could do with the money. You could put it towards financing your expeditions."
"Oh," she says. "I hadn't considered that."
"Well, think on it, okay?"
Luna nods. "I will."
"And when you're traveling, we'll have our own set to keep up with each other," Ginny says, bumping her shoulder.
Luna lets out a joyful laugh.
Ginny's down in The Parlor trying to finish the last of her homework when her parchment makes a soft hum. She told herself not to bother Harry again, or to expect him to write, but she's still been carrying it around with her, so it's possible that is a giant lie.
Putting aside her work, she taps the parchment with her wand.
Got any more homework you need help avoiding? his message says.
She smiles. Always.
They chat a while about inconsequential things as the other Parlor girls finish up their projects and drift off to bed.
Ginny clears Harry's last message and re-inks her quill. This is kind of annoying, isn't it? Having to write and say a spell and wait and say a spell again. All for a few sentences at a time.
I don't mind, is Harry's response. But it is kinda a bother, yeah.
I was talking to Luna earlier. She thinks she may be able to update the charms somehow. I mean, if you'd like to keep talking like this.
She sends the message and waits for his response, trying to keep her breathing calm and steady, even as her fingers tap impatiently on the arm of her chair.
I do, he writes back. I think it's a great idea.
She lets out a breath, staring down at his words as she tries to analyze the press of relief in her chest. I suppose that's something we should have thought about fixing before.
Maybe we should have, he agrees.
Ginny gnaws on her lip.
Do you think she'll be able to do it? he asks.
It's Luna. Of course she will.
Of course.
So, did you do anything fun today? Please tell me about how exciting life outside of school is.
Sorry. I mostly just hid in my room.
Turning into a hermit?
No. I wish. Fleur was here today again. She and your mum have decided that if I am going to live here, it needs to be redecorated. She and Kreacher have been conspiring against me, I'm sure of it.
Ginny definitely doesn't disagree with Fleur's assessment, not particularly liking the idea of him living alone there in that dreary place.
So you're really going to live there? He said he didn't have any more trips planned, but she can't help but wonder.
Well, as much as your mum tried to argue otherwise, I can't very well live at the Burrow for the rest of my life. I figure this will do for now.
She looks at the words 'for now' for a long time.
On the way out of his house Thursday morning, Harry pauses on the stoop. His eyes sweep over the park across the street. It's more habit than anything, something he does every time without thinking, but today his attention is caught by a person lounging against the fence near the bus stop. It's not unusual for someone to be there, but there's something about the guy that keeps Harry from dismissing him.
Harry's still on the stoop, hidden behind the wards and charms, and he's careful not to go beyond them as he watches the figure. He's wearing Muggle clothing, but it doesn't fit him quite right. Again, not totally unheard of, but still weird.
A few more people gather and less than ten minutes later a bus arrives at the stop. Harry loses sight of the guy as people get on and off the bus, but when it pulls away, sure enough, he's still there, far more intent on the buildings to either side of number 12 than the bus.
It's definitely time to contact someone, send a note off to Robards or something, but instead Harry heads back inside and up to his room to get his invisibility cloak. Pulling it on, he steps out past the wards and down the steps, darting across the street. Carefully circling around into the park, he approaches the guy from behind, pulling off his cloak and aiming his wand. Fortunately the square is pretty empty of Muggles.
"Who are you and why are you here?" Harry asks.
The guy stiffens, hand going for what Harry can only assume is his wand.
"Expelliarmus," Harry says, a wand flying up to land in his empty hand.
"Turn around slowly."
His shoulders drop, spreading his hands wide as he does as he's told.
"Let me ask again," Harry says. "Who are you and why are you here?"
Someone claps a hand down on Harry's shoulder from behind, but before he can react, he recognizes the distinct press of a wand tip against his back. "Good thing no one is actually trying to kill you, Potter," says the wizard.
Harry glances back over his shoulder, and this wizard actually looks more familiar. Someone he saw in Kingsley's office.
The wizard lets go of him, lowering his wand and turning to his companion. "You let him take your wand?" he mocks.
"Shut it," he says, scowling.
"What do you want?" Harry asks, his mood getting blacker by the moment.
"What do you think?" the grouchy one fires back.
Harry steps to the side so he isn't standing between them, but doesn't lower his wand. "Kingsley sent you."
"Well, Robards, technically," says the smiling one. "But yeah."
Harry finally lowers his wand, but doesn't put it away. "I don't need to be followed around."
"We aren't here to debate you," the angry one says, reaching into his coat.
Harry stiffens, lifting his wand again, but he only pulls out an envelope with his name written on it. "We were hanging around so we could deliver this."
Harry takes it. "All the Ministry owls out sick today or something?" he asks, not believing that for a second.
"He's funny," his companion says. "Why isn't that in the reports?"
"It says he's a bloody pain in the arse and that seems accurate enough. Can I get my wand back?"
Harry ignores him, opening the seal on the letter. It's from Kingsley, welcoming him home and requesting that Harry come see him as soon as possible. Very soon if he felt the need to have two Aurors accompany it. Or perhaps accompany him .
"Is there something happening that I need to know about?" Harry asks, watching them closely. Neither of them seem particularly on edge.
"Above our pay grade," the cheerful one says. "We'll escort you."
There is no way that is happening.
Harry shakes his head. "I can't today."
They both look astonished. "You can't today?"
"Nope. I have plans. Tell the Minister I'll get there when I can."
"Potter," one of them says, but Harry takes a few steps back, placing the Auror's wand on the ground.
Before either can get another word in, he Apparates away.
Harry reappears on a small lane just before an elderly Muggle woman cycles around the corner on a rusty old bike. In his rush to avoid his Aurors, he forgot this was a Muggle area.
He nods at the lady as she cycles past, and she shoots him a deeply suspicious look. Once she's out of sight again, Harry turns his attention back on the modest house in front of him. It has a large yard with a pond behind it.
He's never seen the house in the daylight, and even then it's a blurred memory of terror and pain and anxiety. He has a hard time reconciling this peaceful home with the memory.
Opening the gate, he heads up the front walk past a clothesline hung with white squares of fabric flapping in the gentle breeze.
He lifts the brass knocker, banging it lightly against the door a few times.
There's the sound of a soft voice from somewhere inside, and Harry does his best not to pace while he waits.
The door pulls open, revealing Andromeda Tonks.
"Harry," she says, brow furrowed.
"Hi," he says.
It's still weird to see her, the similarity of her features with Bellatrix. Especially as she stares at him with a less than welcoming expression.
"I'm sorry if this is a bad time," he says. He was honestly too scared to send an owl ahead and risk her saying no.
"Why are you here?" she asks.
"Um. I was hoping to see Teddy?"
"Were you," she says. She looks tired and wary, grey streaking her dark hair. "Why?"
He lifts his chin. "I'm his godfather, aren't I?"
But that's the real question, isn't it?
Her jaw tightens. "I suppose you are."
Harry sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. "Look. I can come back some other time if you need me to. Whatever works best for you."
She considers him for another long moment before pulling the door open wider. "Come inside."
They go down a hallway and past the kitchen until it opens up into a sunny room at the rear of the house. There are stacks of toys, a comfortable-looking sofa, and a playpen where Teddy currently sits, trying to stack blocks on top of each other.
Andromeda crosses over to Teddy, murmuring softly to him before lifting him up and out of the playpen and placing him on the floor. Teddy immediately grabs for the edge of the coffee table, pulling himself to his feet.
"Is he walking already?" Harry asks without thinking.
"Nearly," Andromeda says. She smiles down at Teddy. "Any day now, right dear?"
Teddy says something back that might be words, but sounds more like gibberish to Harry.
"Well," she says after Harry just continues to stand around and stare. "I have to check on something in the kitchen. Keep an eye on him for me for a few minutes will you?"
She doesn't wait for an answer, disappearing out the door.
Harry looks after her with alarm. What if Teddy needs something? Or cries or falls down? But Andromeda has disappeared, and Harry tells himself she wouldn't abandon Teddy if she didn't think it would be okay. Right?
"Pull it together," he mutters to himself. It's just a baby.
Crossing over, Harry sits down on the floor near Teddy. "Hey, mate."
Teddy glances at him, but doesn't seem particularly thrilled, scooting further away from Harry.
He pulls a small wooden dragon out of his pocket, holding it out. "I brought you this."
Teddy looks at it, toddling closer a cautious step at a time, one hand grabbing tight to the front of the sofa. He takes the dragon in one fist, immediately shoving it in his mouth.
It's big enough that Harry doesn't think he needs to worry about him choking on it or anything, but keeps a close eye all the same.
He glances back over his shoulder, but Andromeda still hasn't come back.
"I'm Harry, by the way," he says, returning his attention to Teddy. "Your dad asked me… He asked me to be your godfather when you were born."
Teddy seems far more intent on chewing on the toy than anything Harry has to say.
He's so small, Harry thinks, watching the way he clumsily gets about on his thick, chubby legs, noticing how tiny his little fingernails are. It hits him then, that Teddy is almost the age he was himself when his parents died. When he went to live with the Dursleys.
Almost as if from nowhere, Harry is flooded with a fierce surge of protectiveness.
"I'm not really sure what a godfather is supposed to do. I mean, you've got your gran, which is probably best for both of us, as I have zero idea what you might need. She's probably a pretty good mum too, since Tonks turned out so great." He feels a tight squeeze in his chest. "I think maybe a godfather is supposed to just, you know, be there anytime you need him."
Teddy seems supremely uninterested, cruising around the room with one fat hand gripping things as he toddles. Harry grabs for him when he nearly falls back. Teddy happily grips his finger, crawling up into his lap.
"I haven't done a great job at that so far," Harry says as Teddy swipes at his glasses. "But I'm going to do much better. I promise."
Teddy lets out a bright garbled sound, looking past Harry. He turns and Andromeda is standing in the doorway. His cheeks warm, realizing she must have overheard at least some of that.
She smiles at Teddy, her expression cooling significantly when she turns to look at Harry. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," she says.
"I don't," Harry says.
She looks like she is trying to decide if she believes him, and Harry forces himself not to squirm. "Okay," she eventually says.
Teddy crawls up over Harry's shoulder, and he grabs him, pulling him back down so he's kind of awkwardly sitting on his arm. "I don't know anything about babies."
Andromeda shakes her head, sitting down on the sofa. "I wouldn't expect you to."
He looks at Teddy, who seems to be trying to fit his entire fist in his mouth with an alarming amount of success. "I want to learn."
There's a low rumbling sound, Harry's arm suddenly feeling much warmer than it had a moment ago. Teddy gives him a wide grin.
"Well, how about starting with changing a nappy?" Andromeda asks, arching an eyebrow at him. She looks like she is trying hard not to laugh, and she has never looked less like her sister than she does now.
"Brilliant," Harry says, voice dry.
Harry is fairly exhausted by the time he gets home from Andromeda's. Part of him wants to just eat and fall straight into bed, but his brain is buzzing with everything that's happened.
He instead finds himself pulling out his parchment, not a little disappointed to find no message waiting. He didn't write to Ginny the night before, primarily because he doesn't want to feel like he's bothering her, or barging back in or something. But tonight he just…really wants to talk to her.
Before he can talk himself into it, Ginny writes to him, right at nine, and he likes the idea that they have an unspoken set time.
Hey. This an okay time? she says.
Yes, he writes. I was just about to write to you myself.
Yeah? Something on your mind?
He almost writes no, or I just wanted to talk to you, not wanting to dump on her without even asking after her day, but finds himself writing, I went to see Teddy.
Did you? How was that?
The words just pour out, and he wasn't even aware how much it's been weighing on him until they do. I think I messed up, not going before. Andromeda wasn't very pleased with me.
Her response is slow to come, and he braces himself for her to agree, to tell him off for being so thoughtless.
Even if that's true, and I'm not sure it is, you can't really change it. The past.
His shoulders drop, and of course she hasn't blamed him. But she hasn't absolved him of it either, and as uncomfortable as that is, at least it's honest.
All I can do is be there now? he writes.
Yes. Exactly.
I want to be, he writes, a little overwhelmed with how much he means it, knowing he will do absolutely everything in his power to be there for Teddy. I promised I would be.
Then I know you will, she writes.
It's hard, not seeing her face, hearing her voice. He just has blunt words on a page, and he doesn't know if she is as certain of that as she sounds. How she could be after he's left so many times before.
And don't worry about Andromeda, she continues. She probably just isn't sure of your intentions. She's been caring for him for almost a year. And then you, his godfather, the famous Harry Potter, appear again one day.
That didn't even occur to him, the very idea so ridiculous. She can't possibly think I'd try to take him from her. How would I take care of a baby?
She probably just doesn't know what to think, Ginny says. If you would take him. Try to make decisions for her. If you won't stay, but just disappear again after he gets attached. She just wants to protect Teddy. Give her time and she'll realize that you only want the best for him.
I do, he writes. I do want what's best for him. I don't want to cause any trouble. I just want to do what's right.
She'll figure that out. I have no doubt.
Harry finds that he believes her. He doesn't know how she does that, how she always makes things seem…clearer. It all leaves him with this giant tangle of feelings in his chest he has no idea what to do with.
You should see him, Ginny. He's so small. I don't think I even knew kids could be that small. And I'm pretty sure he can put his entire foot in his mouth.
Talented kid.
You have no idea. I've already had to change a nappy.
Oh, Merlin. I shouldn't write to you when I'm around other people. Now everyone is staring at me for laughing hysterically at a bloody piece of parchment.
He smiles, trying to imagine where she is. Maybe curled up on a couch in the Slytherin common room. I'll do my best to not be funny, for your sake.
Oh, I doubt not being funny would be much of a trial for you.
Hey. I think I'm insulted.
I'm sure you can live with it.
That had better not be a Boy Who Lived joke or I am putting this parchment away right now.
See? I think you'd be perfectly great at caring for a baby, considering you're practically one yourself. Underneath her words is a wonky drawing of a face with a tongue sticking out.
He lets out a burst of laughter. And to think, I was going to thank you for listening to me rattle on. Now I'd just be thanking you for calling me names.
Okay, I think I have to leave the area before someone calls Madam Pomfrey on me. I look way too ridiculous laughing at myself.
Seriously, though, he writes, thank you.
You're welcome.
For the first time since he came back, Harry drifts off to sleep with no problem, feeling lighter than he has in months