Chapter 3: Working Some Contacts

Harry could hear the heavy breathing pulsing through the receiver on the phone of his work office. Normally, he would have taken the call in his private study at home, but the risk of Ginny eavesdropping was too great. Harry could spin it all he liked, but he was technically going behind his wife's back, phoning Big D. And besides, he didn't think reaching back into this part of his past would ever become comfortable.

At last, his cousin spoke. "Well, it's sure as hell no symptom of breast cancer that I know."

"Mm-hmm," Harry murmured, jotting down some notes on a pad. "Have you seen it in other women, though? Could you ask around of your OBGYN colleagues?"

"I bloody could try, but if there was a phenomenon like this, we would know. There'd be research conducted. You don't think..." and Dudley's voice dropped down to a whisper. "you don't think it's a magic thing, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "Duds, I have two other children, and four sisters-in-law with nine pregnancies between them. Nothing - nothing like this has been seen before, at least in my family."

"Well, in the absence of that, here's one thing I can tell you: tell Ginny to maintain close physical contact with your daughter as often as possible. You showed some quick ingenuity, asking your sister-in-law to step up to the plate, but don't let that become a crutch. It ruddy well might come back to bite you in the ass."

Harry grimaced. "All right. Thanks, Big D. Fancy a round of drinks next Saturday week? I owe you."

"No more than I owe you," and Harry could actually hear the smile in his voice. "You saved my life. I can never pay you back."

"You already are. I never thought we'd get to the point where we could talk like this. Cheers, mate. Give Riley my love." He hung up.


On a slow Sunday morning, Harry bustled through Diagon Alley, proceeding to the Leaky Cauldron. It helped that the person he was trying to meet was married to the landlady of this place. There would be no confusion about meeting time or location.

And there was his old friend now, in a booth, which he now promptly rose out of to shake hands.

"Sorry getting here right at the tape, Nev; the boys were restless this morning." Harry gave Professor of Herbology Neville Longbottom an enthusiastic handshake before falling into the seat across from him.

"Nah, you gave me a perfect excuse to catch up. I'm sorry I couldn't make the Christmas party last year at the Burrow. Send Molly my regrets, will you?" Neville folded his calloused hands on the table. Harry noticed, but didn't comment on, the palpable scars residing there. Ginny had told him, through the years, some of the horror stories of Hogwarts while he and his friends had been on the run. Neville was a leading man in most of them. He was godfather to Albus, eagerly accepting the assignment. " 'Sides, Gin's one of my best mates. Anything that concerns her concerns me. I didn't tell Hannah; she'd be in a right state if I did."

Harry nodded his thanks. Neville leaned back in his booth, stroking his chin contemplatively. "It's certainly something I've never heard of, a woman preparing to nurse but having no milk. How have you even kept this kid alive? Formula? Gin doesn't seem the type to go for that."

"She's not," Harry agreed. "Hermione actually volunteered to nurse Lily with some of her breast-milk left over from Hugo."

"Props to her, then," Neville mused, raising an eyebrow. "And Ron just went along with this?"

"Would you believe me if I told you he was easier to convince than Ginny?"

"No." The pair laughed. Neville got out a pen and pad and began scribbling notes down. Harry watched him work, recognizing that look in his eyes. Neville had been the best Herbology protege in a generation when they were in school, even getting fuller marks than Hermione in the subject. There had been little doubt that he would take over the post after Professor Sprout retired.

"Right," Neville finally spoke, laying his quill flat. "I think... I might have something." He re-read his notes again, and then brightened, filling Harry with hope. "Yes, this could totally WORK! It'll take me a few more weeks though. Think 'Mione has enough left in her till then?"

"I'll ask Ron, but I think so."

"Just make sure that Hugo isn't getting shafted. He needs his mother's milk, too, at only five months old." Harry kicked himself. The health of his youngest nephew... he hadn't thought of that. "And you might wanna think about swallowing your pride and going for some formula. Finding one that's appropriate may be trial and error, but that's the risk you'll have to run." Neville pocketed his notes and shook Harry's hand. "I'll call you with anything I come up with."

"Thanks, mate. You're brilliant, you are!" And Harry gathered his briefcase and rushed from the Leaky.