AN: Thanks, everyone, for the kind words, the favs and follows!
This chapter was written by SeaFeudJagger.
May 14, 1998
Harry glanced around the spacious room that once belonged to his godfather and could only shake his head in wonder at how spotless it was compared to the last time he had been here.
When he had summoned Kreacher back at the Burrow and told him to sweep Grimmauld Place a bit before he arrived, Harry did not expect the old house elf to actually take his words that seriously and wipe every inch of the house clean. He was pretty sure the elf had never exerted this much effort back when the Order used the house as its headquarters.
Still, Harry was thankful for Kreacher's thoughtfulness because he didn't fancy casting cleaning charms all day across each of the various rooms and every nook and cranny found in the spatially expanded interiors of the townhouse. Now he could focus on sorting out whatever items and belongings were left of the Black family after Mundungus Fletcher had looted the place. He couldn't decide whether to store them up in the attic, throw them out of the house or instead leave them as they were.
Ron and Hermione had volunteered to help him with it, but he had politely declined, assuring them that he was alright and just needed some time for himself to clear his head a bit. Besides, both of them still needed to prepare for their trip to Australia and submit the necessary visa applications. International portkey travel had been under severe lockdown ever since Voldemort had taken over the Ministry and was only recently reopened to the public. She was also working with Arthur to contact the Australian Ministry in order to gain their permission to legally extract her parents from their country.
Hermione had a lot on her plate right now and Harry didn't want to further add to it with his own personal problems. And with Ron supporting her he couldn't find it in him to separate his two best friends at the moment, especially now that they were officially dating.
Harry smirked at that as he dismantled the large Gryffindor banners hanging across the wall, folding and placing them all in one of the boxes conjured up on the bed. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the large wardrobe in the corner crammed to the brim with racks of robes, neatly pleated trousers and piles of hats most likely belonging to Sirius before he ran away from home, barely bothered to be removed by his own family. Harry sighed, readying himself for another long hour or two.
Ginny would have helped him if he'd asked her to, he was sure. Even though they ultimately decided against continuing their relationship, Harry still found himself enjoying her company a lot and was greatly relieved by the lack of awkwardness lingering between them now compared to the year prior after they had just broken up. She frequently paired up with him, Ron and Hermione during the cleanup of Hogwarts in the past week and a half and was slowly starting to integrate herself into their dynamic.
But lately, he noticed Ginny had been spending less and less time at the Burrow, either staying longer with the volunteering work at Hogwarts or hanging out with Luna and her other friends at their place. Whenever she was at home though, she became increasingly snappish at everyone around her but refused to remain alone without anyone in a room, not even her own. The one time Harry wandered past her bedroom late at night when he couldn't sleep, he heard stifled sobs coming from the door and soft cries calling out for Fred.
Harry tightened his grip on the fabric in his hands, shutting his eyes in an attempt to suppress the wave of emotions that passed through him at the thought of Fred.
It still felt surreal, not being able to hear the older twin's laughing voice anymore, to not see him eagerly dashing around with George. They'd rush from one end of the Burrow to the other, followed by a loud explosion somewhere signalling a prank had gone off. Then their mother would be shrieking in anger after them, threatening terrible punishments once she caught the two of them by their ears.
Oh, how he longed for that sense of normalcy again. He wondered if jokes and pranks would ever be the same. Just seeing George without Fred right by his side felt plain wrong.
The Burrow still remained a busy household maintained thoroughly by Molly, but now there was an undercurrent of silence added to the place which had little to do with the hustle and bustle of its residents rushing to and fro.
Fred's loss was felt deeply, and Ginny wasn't the only one who was greatly affected by his death.
His best friend Ron, a voracious eater like no other during their time in Hogwarts, barely looked like he finished a single meal these days, worrying Hermione and Molly immensely. George, the more reserved and gentler of the rambunctious twins, hardly spoke a word to anyone since returning from the battle. Arthur and Percy threw themselves into their lines of work, frequently returning home long after dinner had ended. Harry even heard muted conversations between Bill and Charlie about staying at the Burrow for a while, with the younger brother even contemplating about possibly moving back to England.
Molly was the best out of all of them at hiding her grief, managing to put on a brave face for everyone and keeping her family from falling apart. But even he could see the cracks forming in the facade sometimes – particularly whenever her gaze lands on the family clock – causing the unwavering demeanour of the Weasley matriarch to falter for just a moment before she could compose herself.
While they remained very accommodating of him as always, Fred's death left behind a gaping hole which could never be filled and loomed over the Weasley family like a dark cloud. His absence was a heavy reminder of what the war had cost them.
And as selfish as it sounded, Harry desperately needed to get away from all that.
He had spent many sleepless nights since the final battle staring blankly at the ceiling of Ron's bedroom, reviewing his remarkably short life up to this point. Since the beginning, almost everything appeared to have been laid out for him, from the moment Riddle chose to mark him as his equal on that fateful night in Godric's Hollow to his eventual return to power. Dumbledore dropping him off at the Dursleys and then preparing him for his fated confrontation with the Dark Lord the moment he set foot into Hogwarts, all of it was planned. No matter how good the intentions were behind the act, it still did not escape him that he had never been truly given the chance to tread his own path.
When he first learned the truth about Sirius, Harry held a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different for once. That he didn't have to conform with his lot in life and start something new with a caring godfather he never knew about.
But that dream got snuffed out long before it could ever take flame, and soon enough Sirius was taken away from him for good.
Harry grunted as he heaved the last box he had just finished packing and carefully laid it on the mattress along with the rest filled with Sirius's stuff. After taking a breather, he placed both hands on his waist and critically eyed each of the marked boxes before finally nodding to himself.
Clearing his throat, Harry raised his voice and called out, "Kreacher!"
There was a loud pop and the old house elf suddenly appeared, bowing so low that Regulus's locket around his neck nearly touched the ground.
"Master Harry calls?" Kreacher croaked respectfully.
"Er, yes. Please bring these," he pointed to a number of boxes on the bed, "to the attic and organize them next to where you left Regulus's belongings. Be careful not to drop any of them though." Harry paused, then added, "You don't need to bow to me every time I call you, Kreacher."
"But Kreacher insists, Master!" the elf cried. "Kreacher shall do your bidding at once!"
With a snap of his fingers, Kreacher levitated the boxes Harry picked out and floated them towards him, arranging them in a rather tall stack. The small creature then placed a hand on the box at the very bottom and disapparated with the rest of it.
Kreacher's change in attitude and show of enthusiasm, now that the air between them had cleared, brought a small smile to Harry's face, which just as quickly fell as he was painfully reminded of another elf who deserved to be standing here, buzzing with life and excitement.
Harry shook his head forcefully at that, smothering his grief hard, doing his best not to remind himself of that terrible day at Shell Cottage where he was forced to bury a loyal friend. How ironic that the pain and stress that Riddle and his followers had brought upon him was ultimately the tool he needed to keep him out of his mind.
Now it served the purpose of blocking out any overwhelming memories that would consume his thoughts and break down whatever fragile hold he had left of himself.
Exhaling deeply several times, Harry grabbed the remaining box on the bed and quickly exited the room, locking the door behind him with a quiet click. He then proceeded to head downstairs, passing by walls plastered with peeling wallpaper and ageing furniture on top of poor lighting, his shoes scratching against the worn carpet.
Perhaps this was why he chose Grimmauld Place of all places to turn to. Sirius hated his home with a passion and couldn't care less about what happened to the house. It held even less meaning to Harry, other than serving as their hide-out from a year ago and the Order's old headquarters. So it stood to reason that he should want nothing more to do with this place now that the war was over.
But the fact that it did not garner any sort of painful memory or emotion within him was precisely the reason why Harry returned to Grimmauld Place. Witnessing the interiors actually cleaned up for once only got him thinking that maybe it wouldn't be a bad investment to fix the place up.
He had no shortage of gold, after all, from his own vault and the Black family vault which he had inherited from Sirius. He could refurbish this old townhouse into actual suitable living quarters again. The house was Unplottable and held many security wards and protections that would prevent anyone – short of an army – from breaking into the residence. This was what added to the appeal for Harry, considering the amount of unwanted attention he was currently trying to avoid from avid reporters and well-wishers alike, who were now showering him with praises and the moniker of the "Man-Who-Won".
"As if I needed another bloody title tallied to my name," Harry muttered under his breath.
Another thing which hadn't crossed his mind that much was that he was of age now, and that meant he couldn't just keep living off of the Weasleys' hospitality anymore. Oh, he had no doubt that Molly and Arthur would welcome him heartily at the Burrow with open arms wherever and whenever he wished to stay. The Burrow was like a second home to him after Hogwarts, and the Weasleys the closest he's had to being a part of a family. Nothing would ever change that.
But Harry wanted to strike out on his own for once in his life, and turning Grimmauld Place into his new home seemed like a good first step in that direction. It was also serving as a distraction from other more unpleasant thoughts about the war that he'd rather not think about.
Once Harry reached the drawing room, he dropped the box amid a growing pile that he planned to dump off one of these days and was halfway down to the basement kitchen for a glass of water when the doorbell rang – a loud and clanging bell echoing throughout the house.
Harry frowned at the sound. Only his best friends knew he was here, and both were busy today. So who could that be?
Retreating up the stairs and into the hallway, Harry opened his mouth to say something when the velvet curtains to Walburga Black's portrait abruptly flew open.
"Filth! Half-Breed! Scum!" she screeched.
Harry rolled his eyes at her and pulled out his wand. Silencio. Confundo.
The string of insults was immediately cut short before it could raise in intensity, and it was a very silent Mrs Black glancing around her painting in confusion that greeted Harry as he casually strode past the portrait, humming a jaunty tune to himself.
Squinting suspiciously into the peephole, Harry was surprised to find a familiar face – no, faces waiting for him on the doorstep.
"Mrs Tonks? Teddy?" Harry exclaimed, the door unlocking on its own with a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain before he swung it open.
The wrapped bundle that was Teddy Lupin squirmed at the sudden noise, his brown hair changing to white, looking tiny as ever swaddled in his grandmother's arms.
"Good afternoon, Harry," Andromeda Tonks greeted, a tired smile on her face. "I hope we're not intruding?"
"Oh, uh, not at all. Please, come in." Harry stepped back and widened the door for them to enter, subtly directing his wand at the portrait, its curtains promptly flung shut over the still bewildered Walburga Black.
Gingerly, Andromeda stepped over the threshold and into the foyer, her eyes taking in the sight of Grimmauld Place's still rather dreary atmosphere despite the improvements made by Kreacher's thorough cleaning. "I see not much has changed around here," she murmured, almost to herself.
Nodding towards the closed portrait, she asked, "Is Aunt Walburga still being a bother?"
"Not as much as before," Harry said with a shrug, closing the door behind him. "She's more of a nuisance now, really. I finally found a way to shut her up but the spells never last long." Gonna need to find a better solution than that, he thought.
Andromeda nodded stiffly. "My aunt was never one to hold back from her strong opinions regarding blood purity, even on her deathbed. No doubt she and my sisters took great pleasure in blasting my name off the family tree once I ran away with Ted..." she trailed off shakily.
"I can fix that if you'd like," Harry offered, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence that followed.
Andromeda glanced up at him in surprise. "Oh, there's no need for that."
"It's the least I can do," Harry insisted, walking over to her. He may not know Andromeda well, having only met her twice before this, and didn't leave much of a good first impression when he pointed a wand at her thinking she was Bellatrix. However, she was all that was left of Teddy's family now and he wanted to do right by his godson and get along with her. "That tapestry is still here somewhere– er, I might've been doing a bit of redecorating around here so not everything's in place. Sirius left everything the Blacks owned to me which is why I'm here trying to clean the place up. I can ask Hermione to help me find a way to reverse the magic on the family tree. She's interested in that kind of stuff, you know, and wouldn't mind–"
"Harry." The sharpness in Andromeda's voice cut through his nervous ramblings like a diffindo.
Harry immediately clamped his mouth shut, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Seeing his abashed look, Andromeda softened. "That's sweet of you, dear, but unnecessary. It's been decades since I last cared for the Black family name, and that won't change anytime soon. Leaving the comforts of home and having my name banished from that tapestry meant next to nothing for me when compared to the chance of starting a new life with Ted."
"He must have been quite the bloke to be worth leaving all that behind," Harry said softly.
"He was," Andromeda smiled sadly, slightly adjusting the sleeping Teddy in her arms.
They both lapsed into silence once more, which thankfully did not last long this time around. A loud pop right next to him startled them both into nearly jumping.
"Master Harry! Kreacher has finally finished rearranging the– oh." The house elf's words fell short when he finally noticed Andromeda standing by next to Harry. "Master has brought in a guest. Does Kreacher know this one?"
"Ah, well, er, she's actually–" Harry fumbled a bit with his introduction of her but Andromeda beat him right to it.
"It's Andromeda, Kreacher," she said, straightening her posture. "Do you still remember me?"
Kreacher's look of confusion cleared. "Mistress Andromeda!" he croaked out joyously. "Yes, Kreacher does recall! It is a most honourable sight to witness a proper lady of Black again in the flesh!"
It suddenly struck Harry at this moment that Andromeda must have spent a significant amount of time growing up here in Grimmauld Place to be recognized even by Kreacher. Which made complete sense since she and Sirius were cousins. He felt rather stupid for not realizing it sooner.
Harry had to clear his throat to regain the house elf's attention. "Um, yeah. Mrs Tonks here is our guest, Kreacher. Can you prepare us some tea while I show her around?"
"Of course, Master," Kreacher bowed deeply to both of them before disappearing with a pop.
"Kreacher seems to have considerably warmed up to you," Andromeda remarked. "That's not how Sirius described him to me in his letters when he started living here again."
"Sirius… never had the best of relationships with Kreacher," Harry admitted, scratching his head. The animosity between them nearly rivalled the one his godfather had with Snape. "I didn't either, until recently. He's a bit barmy sometimes, to be honest, but he helped us a lot when we took shelter here last year. Kreacher's not really bad once you get to know him."
Not to mention he rallied the house elves of Hogwarts against Voldemort and his Death Eaters during the final battle. Granted, Harry believed it was mostly done out of loyalty for Regulus but still, he felt rather touched that even Kreacher stood by him in the end despite their troubled past.
Harry led them out of the hallway and into the drawing room where he busied himself with removing the boxes away from the couch so they had a proper place to sit. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Andromeda rummaging through her purse before pulling out something small on the palm of her hand and dropping it to the floor, which unshrunk into a baby cradle where she gently placed her sleeping grandson in.
Kreacher reappeared with refreshments just moments after they settled down. Thanking the house elf, Harry spent the next several minutes just sipping on his teacup and savouring the taste and aroma of Earl Grey filling the air before he finally spoke to Andromeda.
"So, how'd you find me here, Mrs Tonks?" Harry asked, immediately wincing at how accusatory he sounded even to his own ears. "Not that I mean anything by that!" he hastily added before she could even say anything in response.
Andromeda merely raised a brow at him and purposefully stirred her tea, which further made Harry sweat and sputter out his words.
"Sorry, sorry, it's just that– not a lot of people know that I'm here, you see, and, well, I'm just trying to avoid any attention from the press and all. They've been hounding me all week for an exclusive interview, even when I'm at Hogwarts. Some of them have even resorted to owling Mr Weasley and pestering him at work just for a word with me. They don't deserve the unwanted attention they're getting because of me staying with them and I just–" Harry hesitated. I just needed to get away from it all.
Andromeda looked sympathetic at that, gently placing her teacup down on the table.
"Well, if you must know, I visited the Burrow earlier today hoping to find you. But Molly was the only one there and didn't know where you were. I was on my way out when your friend Ronald came rushing through the front door, apparently forgetting some document or another. I asked him where you were and that's that." Andromeda then sent him a stern look. "And none of this 'Mrs Tonks' business. I already told you at the funeral that 'Andromeda' is fine. You're making me sound older than I really am."
"O-Of course," Harry agreed sheepishly.
"As for why I visited…" Andromeda gracefully stood up, went over to the cradle and returned with a sleeping bundle in her arms.
"I think it's time for Teddy to spend some proper time with his godfather," she replied softly, handing over her grandson to him.
Harry's hands were almost shaking when he accepted little Teddy, delicately tucking him right against his chest.
"Careful with his head now. Hold him like this."
Harry absently followed her instructions, too engrossed by the sight of his dozing godson to fully listen to her words. He looked so small and delicate, barely fitting in his rough palms. He felt so light that Harry was afraid of accidentally dropping him.
"Hullo there, little fella," Harry whispered. "It's me, Harry. Your godfather."
As though he actually heard him, Teddy let out a huge yawn as he stretched his tiny arms in the air and squealed a bit. His hair changed from light brown to bright blue. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, revealing a pair of dark grey eyes, almost black, peering curiously into Harry's own.
It was at that moment Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would fight tooth and nail to ensure his godson lived a long and happy life.
The last of the Marauders may be gone, but right there, in his arms, he held the closest link he had left to his parents' lives and that was more precious than any galleon or award given to him.
Harry was so awestruck by Teddy that he nearly missed the sounds of someone sniffling. It quickly caught his attention, however. When he glanced up it was to his surprise and concern that he found Andromeda Tonks openly weeping beside him.
"Mrs To– Andromeda?" he asked worryingly. "Is everything alright?"
Andromeda shook her head. "No, nothing has been alright. This past year has been everything but alright, just pain and heartbreak one after the other," she said hoarsely.
"I wanted to go with him, you know, run away like we used to as reckless teenagers. I didn't care if it was dangerous, I just wanted to be certain he was safe and that we would be together. But Ted, that foolish, stubborn, wonderful man, he knew that wasn't an option. Dora was pregnant. They only wanted him. Both Dora and I would remain safe so long as he was away from us. There was no other choice. He promised that he was going to be safe, that he was going to be careful. He promised..."
Guilt rose within Harry as he remembered Ted Tonks passing by their hidden tent along with the other runaways. Even while half-starved and tired, the man never lost his positive attitude nor did his belief in Harry waver.
"I thought I could bear the pain of losing Ted, but then Dora… Remus… both taken from me within a matter of months. The family I've longed to build for ourselves… gone with a flick of a wand. Ted never even got to hold his grandson…" she broke down once more, both hands covering her tear-streaked face.
Her cries only added to the growing ache Harry was feeling in his chest.
Fred. Dobby. Ted. Remus. Tonks.
Just how many more had died for him? How many more lives were lost just to further the goals of one madman's ambitions? And how many more deaths could Harry have prevented had he been prepared sooner or strong enough to face Voldemort?
He didn't know, he would never know. Yet they still plagued him. Their faces crept into his dreams every night, asking why he couldn't have saved them, demanding why he left them to die just so he could live.
Harry wanted to scream and cry and yell at the unfairness of it all just as he did countless times in those dreams, but he couldn't. Not now, not when someone needed him to be strong for them. Now was not the time to wallow in his feelings of guilt.
He swept an arm around Andromeda, cautiously placing a hand on the older woman's shaking shoulders. At first she stiffened at the sudden contact and looked as if she were about to shrug his hand off, but then she relented and allowed him to pull her close to his chest along with her grandson.
"I may not know what the future holds for me but I want you to know one absolute certainty: I will always be there for you and Teddy. Whenever or wherever you need it. I swear it. Nothing short of a Killing Curse is going to stop me from being a part of your lives if you want me. And I've already shown twice that not even that can stop me," he whispered fiercely.
Despite the tears, Andromeda couldn't help but choke out a laugh.
They didn't speak much after that, merely sharing their grief together in the silent halls of 12 Grimmauld Place.