Ted Tonks
Content warning: Gender bending philosophy.
By and by, they heard someone come in. "That's Dad," said Tonks, making no move at first to get up, then shrugged, "I guess introductions are called for."
"Right," Leona agreed. Before going downstairs, Leona switched back to Harry for the purpose of first impressions.
Tonks gave him a mocking frown, but didn't object, though she did seem to take note that he was no longer wearing her cut off jeans.
Edward 'Call me Ted' Tonks welcomed Harry, and admired his wife's handiwork with the furniture de-construction, then moved on to the kitchen to pick out a snack.
He invited Harry to snack also, but Harry's stomach was still annoyed at him for finally remembering that meals instead of snacks were a thing. Also telling him all about the facts that cooked food was a good thing, but fried might not be worth it. So Harry declined yet more food already.
Then Ted invited Harry down the corridor to a den that Harry hadn't seen yet.
He interviewed Harry on school subjects and his place in his friend-group hierarchy. Which Harry thought was a not-usually-connected pair of concepts. But … since Harry's friend group somewhat did lend itself to be categorised that way…
"Directly below Hermione, I guess. Kind of paired with —
"No names is fine, Harry. Until or unless you want specific advice, or are relating an anecdote that will be too confusing otherwise."
"OK, two equals of one kind, two equals of another kind, three little sisters."
"Hmm," said Ted in polite mild approval, "how are you on mentors, if you have so few superiors in your friend groups."
Harry frowned, Again he didn't dare talk about Nim, "Lots of the older Weasleys will give me advice if I ask," said Harry, "so will the prefects, if it's Hogwarts or gryffindor related."
"Good, good, who else?"
"I'm the youngest on the quidditch team. But apparently the best seeker in a while, so I get plenty of advice about that, but not as many orders as I might expect. Sirius Black and Professor Snape, if it's law related and I don't want to ask Dumbledore in front of my Survey of Law classmates. There are several upperclassmen in several houses that I can ask for specific help on magical techniques, magical theory I … usually ask Neville to get the Orthodox view, whichever Weasley is handy to get the modern view, or make use of office hours, and try to curry favour with the current defence professor, if I think there might be a pragmatic truth significantly different from how theory is normally taught."
"Ah, those are all good kinds of advice to have access to," said Ted, "Andromeda and I also have significant legal training, though Andromeda is a different kind of expert, not a barrister."
"Alright," said Harry.
"Do you have someone to confide in, regarding the abuse you experienced?"
No, that's Nim again.
But also Professor Snape, "Yes, sir."
"Good, I want you to remember that Sirius Black was abused, differently from you, but he also ran away from home at one time, and found another where he was welcomed."
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to remember that, if you don't feel comfortable discussing something with me or Andromeda, he'll also be primed to understand the difficulties of … learning to deal with a new family, even if ours might seem less 'new' to him than it actually is for you."
"Yes, sir."
"Anyway," said Ted, "I think you'll find Andromeda and I fairly good listeners, and fairly good explainers, if you have questions about our methods or motivations."
Did he just say, 'I don't claim to be flexible, but I am not so dogmatic as to take questioning of my motivation to be an attack on my morals.'?
But Nim didn't comment.
"Did you ever notice that Tonks can be a boy?"
"Yes," said Ted.
"Might prefer to be a boy," said Harry, "I cannot quite tell."
"My child," said Ted, "prefers to maintain flexibility."
"What?" said Harry.
Ted put down the newspaper he wasn't quite skimming as a ruse to not be 'staring Harry down' during this conversation, and started staring Harry down.
"What did you say?" said Harry.
"My child," said Ted, "prefers to maintain flexibility."
"What does that mean?"
"She'd object to you calling her a boy, as much as he objects to her mother forgetting that he can be."
Harry closed his eyes, tried to understand, and tried to believe that might be possible. Tried to believe that Ted wasn't broken the way Andromeda might be, and that he'd have had time to see and understand the truth about 'his child'.
"So more like neither girl or boy?" suggested Harry.
"Or perhaps more like both," suggested Ted.
Harry swallowed, "can that be a thing?"
"Yes, sometimes called, non-binary, (or sometime inter-sex, though that usually means something about a hard to categorise body)," said Ted, "being non-binary is not unusual in metamorphs, and it's theorised to also be correlated to being an animagi, not in the sense that animagi magic could cause a mage to become non-binary, but that the disorientation of existing as an non-binary-being inhabiting a mono-gender-body might cause the sorts of desire for change that leads a mage to explore self transfiguration."
"Ah," said Harry.
I didn't explore animagus magic because I wanted not to be a boy, I explored it because being anything else but human seemed like a safe retreat from the reputation management that Lockhart, the Malfoys, and everyone else seemed intent on forcing me to do full time. Not that humans have a particularly good reputation for leaving lions be, just my luck.
"That wasn't meant to be an accusation," said Ted, "There are plenty of other reasons to want to be an animagus."
"True," said Harry, "I didn't take it as an accusation, but … I did check to see if it cast any light on subtle motivations I might have been neglecting, or might have partially assembled plans to meet, plans that might not achieve the desired results after all."
Ted raised an eyebrow, "A Kantian 'Crisis of Faith' retooled as a 'crisis of motivation,'" He smiled with definite approval, "that sounds like a healthy pass-time for summer vacation."
"Um, what?"
"The philosopher Kant is famous for, at one point, discarding all his beliefs, or rather his belief in the validity of all the knowledge he'd thought he'd gained so far, and search through everything he knew for things that were self evident, from which to build a foundation upon which he could either re-derive or contradict all the rest of his beliefs, so as to be certain that he only believed true things. The cornerstone of his foundation was, the historic, 'I think, therefore, I am.' Contemporary detractors called his exercise, 'a crisis of faith,' and consider his feeling that he needed to go through the exercise a weakness. Some modern philosophers tend to consider putting oneself through a crisis of faith as necessary and healthy as taking a shower, though perhaps the sort of mental hygiene that should not be necessary more than twice a decade."
"Oh."
"What you said about reviewing your own motivations, and the goals based on them, sounds like something from a muggle book, called 'Ten Minute Magic,'. (Which everyone should read.) The techniques I learned from it are part of what helps me stay motivated and focused."
Harry blinked.
Ted raised an eyebrow, "They say I'm as motivated as a hufflepuff and as ambitious as a slytherin."
Harry shrugged.
"I'm a ravenclaw."
Harry giggled, "Can you also learn how to be a good gryffindor from books?"
"I presume so," smirked Ted, "Not that I ever looked. I dated and married a daughter of the House of Black, so … I've generally figured I already have more gumption than is safe."
Harry nodded, "I won't argue against that hypothesis."
.
"Are you going to be alright around Nymphadora now?"
"What?"
"Does knowing that non-binary is a category, and that Nymphadora is symptomatic, going to make you feel comfortable around her/Them?"
"I'm comfortable around him/her/them," said Harry, "I was only worried about Andromeda … maybe not being a good listener."
"Ah," said Ted, and nodded, "You're probably right," he tapped his head, "intellectually she knows everything we've just talked about, has helped me understand parts of it even. Somewhere in here," he tapped his chest, "I'm not sure she can understand. You might notice others when they do the mid-life crisis thing, or crisis of goals, they start from goals they want and work forward to what they could be doing better, they rarely look backwards to motivations, and re-imagine what they could be wanting better."
How does that connect?
"Is that what a mid-life crisis is?"
"The classic mantra is: 'I have the money I thought I needed in order to meet my goals, and I have my children raised and bundled off to college, what the hell do I want to do next?' Not that anyone calls it a mantra."
Harry blinked, "What are you going to do next?"
"Same as always," said Ted, "Love and enjoy my family; Help people, usually for money but not always, and stay alert to the tempests brewing, as any responsible citizen should," he tapped the newspaper he'd just folded up, "I have, as you guessed, re-examined my goals regularly, usually about every other summer for most of two decades."
"Oh," said Harry, "those sound like tasks toward goals, not goals."
Ted nodded, and smiled, "Sometimes the journey is the destination."
"What?"
"That was my most hufflepuff proverb," said Ted defensively, "don't tell me you don't understand it."
"I'm not a big fan of riddles," growled Harry.
"No ravenclaw friends then?"
"Two or three," said Harry, "But I haven't ever successfully visited them in their tower, or not without help."
"Ah," said Ted, "How about hufflepuff?"
"One or two," he shrugged, "one friend and several acquaintances, I guess."
"And a cousin," said Ted, with a wave toward the part of the house that had an upstairs."
"And a cousin," agreed Harry, "she …" he looked away.
"Yes?"
"I asked her to be my big brother," said Harry.
"What did she say to that?"
"Don't worry, Uncle Sirius already asked that, let me show you to your bedroom."
"Good," said Ted, "how did that make you feel?"
"Safe that Sirius has allies working with him in taking care of me, unsafe that he didn't mention that staying here was even an option."
"Yes, I see. That makes sense, did you confront him about that?"
"No," said Harry, "not yet. I was afraid that someone would mistake an accusation of not keeping me up to speed on my future, for criticism of the future they picked out for me, which isn't what I meant."
Ted put the newspaper completely aside now, and looked at Harry. Then blinked.
"Harry," he said, "I've known you for less than two hours, which might be a horribly small sample size for assessing your methods, but several times you've assessed people's issues very accurately, and then written them off, temporarily at least. Or perhaps you're asking for my second opinion before you write them off completely."
"Buh…?"
"I don't think it's fair," said Ted, "You've got to give people an accusation, and a chance to make it right, or at least apologise, before you write them off." Ted blinked, "err, barring violence of course, or them posing a danger to your person or your reputation, I mean. Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment."
"You think that because I think Andromeda and Sirius while together couldn't listen to me about a particular thing, that I think neither of them will ever listen to me, when apart, or about everything else?"
"Ah," said Ted, "yes, that was what I was afraid of."
"Don't worry," said Harry, "I was going to write Sirius a letter later. Also I noticed he didn't mention that I'm an animagus to Tonks, so … I don't think it's 'maliciously avoiding telling me things,' I think he might just be absent minded, but I'd still like clarification."
"He told me and Andromeda," said Ted, "Nymphadora just wasn't present at the time."
"Hmm, alright," said Harry.
Ted picked up his newspaper again, and flipped over to the business section, he still seemed to only glance at the headlines, not read the articles.
Harry wondered if he in fact didn't read the articles, or if he had some sort of ravenclaw super-reading superpower. Or if he was putting off reading any articles until he'd picked out the best articles to invest that much time on. Or if he was just giving his eyes chewing gum while listening to Harry, which was what Harry had suspected earlier.
"And I think I only ever err 'write off' grown ups," said Harry, "Kids deserve more chances to grow up."
Ted put down his newspaper even faster than before, and stared at Harry for longer, before he nodded, "that's somewhat less worrying than I feared."
"I still prioritise who I try to make friends with," said Harry, "I can be kind to everyone without thereby being friendly to everyone."
Ted nodded, "You're right, not everyone deserves a second chance, but I was only trying to tell you that you cannot know who does and who doesn't without giving them one. And I personally feel that it doesn't count as a second chance, without a warning beforehand, that they've finished using up their first chance, and more to the point which of their behaviours was considered unacceptable."
"Ah, alright," said Harry.
Harry was silent for a long time, Ted waited for a while, then picked up his business section again, with a smirk that seemed to be a dare for Harry to interrupt him again.
He seemed to really be reading an article now.
Harry leaned over and snitched the society section to read the funnies. Ted glanced at him several times, possibly between articles.
When Harry had finished the funnies, he folded the society section up neatly and put it back in its correct place in the stack. A well practised skill, given that Vernon used to beat him for Dudley taking the funnies and not putting them back.
He stretched, "Well," he said, "I guess I'll go try again to seduce your son or something."
"Emphasis on the try, I'm sure. Normally I'd advise you that might not be the most productive use of your time," said Ted, "But what else is summer for, but getting arrested for sexual harassment."
Harry blinked and turned back to look at Ted, seeming completely engrossed in his newspaper. Right, it had to be a ravenclaw super-reading thing plus a barrister super-advice thing.
"So, erm, good luck, I suppose." That last was definitely sarcasm.
"Don't worry," said Harry, "I'll leave her alone if she asks, I just have to be a bratty little sister long enough to calibrate how much she loves me."
"Oh," said Ted, still without looking up, "Well yeah, that makes sense."
Harry decided that was as good a final note for things to end on as he could hope for, and returned upstairs.
"So, what did Dad want?"
"I think to make sure I knew I had permission to ask him and your Mom for dad and mom advice respectively."
"Oh, good."
"Also I think, to make sure that I had enough peers from school I could ask for advice that he doesn't need to go out of his way to help me make friends over the summer.
Tonks nodded.
"Except I don't have a good idea what dad advice and mom advice are, so unless it's chore related, or otherwise very local, I'm probably going to keep going to my normal friends for advice to the extent that any of them can be available, rather than him or your Mom."
Tonks shrugged.
"He also wished me good luck at seducing you, which I'm fairly sure he meant sarcastically, but given how many-dimensional the topic seemed when he was talking about it, I wasn't clear along which dimension he meant the opposite of what he said."
Tonks snickered.
"He also gave me complete permission to be your bratty little sister. SO. Feel free advising me how to best carry that out."
"What?"
Harry smirked innocently, "What's the most irritating I could be, without actually irritating you?"
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Don't be bratty," she said, "But …"
"But what?"
"When I visited gryffindor common room, the seats by the fire are first come, first serve, right?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"Slytherin is strict status hierarchy, and people that gauge theirs incorrectly get told to move, repeatedly if necessary, or eventually just levitated outward."
"Plausible," said Harry.
"Ravenclaw has a double system where seats by the fire are first come first serve, tables by the book cases are status hierarchy, and it gets more complex near exams, especially to show support for Quidditch players who might get dropped from the team if they don't pass by enough margin. But only if they don't have a reputation for squandering the help they've received so far."
"Very very plausible," said Harry.
The idea … the probability that Luna wasn't anthropologist enough to decipher all that soon enough to not get branded a weirdo was high. Equally high was that she'd eventually deciphered it, and then chose to subvert it at every turn. Then again, it wouldn't be ravenclaw tradition if it wasn't resilient to a constant supply of ravenclaws willing to subvert it.
"Hufflepuff," said Tonks.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Care to guess?"
Harry shrugged, "Enough fireplaces to actually go around?"
Tonks smiled, "No, but enough pillows and throw blankets to have basically the same effect."
"Nice," said Harry.
"How many cases of homesickness in gryffindor, on average, and how are they generally treated?"
"What's homesickness?" said Harry.
She crossed her arms and stared at him. Then she brightened, "Are you still wearing your veela feathers?"
"Yes."
"Do they still mean, 'Lonely for people I won't see for a while'?"
"Yes."
"And want a hug from?"
"Yes."
She leaned forward, "and think about feeling that, as a first year, and having no friends at Hogwarts, or all of them being in other houses."
Harry flinched, "That's … kind of too intense for first years to have to deal with."
"Now multiply that by not just two friends, but several siblings, and two parents, and an unknown number of aunts and uncles."
Harry nodded, "Dean Thomas might have …"
She nodded, "How was he treated?"
Harry shrugged, "I couldn't say there was anything systematic about it. He draws more, I guess, for his letters home." And Colin takes pictures.
She nodded again, "Hufflepuff's system is not exactly systematic, but physical touch is less frowned upon than I've noticed in any of the other houses. Especially for cases of homesickness. Also time is made for active listening, and other kinds of attention and value signalling."
Harry nodded, and pulled his feather clip from his hair and stared at it.
"I'm homesick for Lion's-Keep even more than I am for the Delacour sisters."
"What's Lion's-Keep?"
Harry stared at her, then sighed, "it is an answer, not a question."
"Then tell me what question it is an answer to?"
"What would you do in Ravenclaw if you realised that a firsty was homesick, and being systematically ostracised for it?"
"Are you making me a ravenclaw in this hypothetical?"
"You're you," said Harry, "you know everything you know now, but your role is a ravenclaw prefect."
"Hmm, I suppose the answer isn't talk the other prefects into helping me lead the adoption of the hufflepuff system?"
"The consensus among the other prefects is that the firsty is being disruptive and deserves everything she's getting, which intermittently is bullying instead of mere ostracism. You cannot convince them that she's actually getting more than she deserves, because her tormentors are professionals and leave very little evidence, also are other firsties and no one would believe how vicious they are … well technically they're ravenclaws so it's probably not full blown maliciousness so much as lack of empathy what they're really doing."
"If they're motivated to hide their cruelty, then they know better, at some level."
"Agreed," said Harry.
"I'm not conjuring a correct answer," said Tonks, "Why is 'tell Flitwick' not the correct answer?"
"A) that was done, B) Flitwick is a half goblin, his empathy is different, and his political capital is … small compared to the other heads of house. C) I assume he's working behind the scenes to catch the perpetrators and bring them to justice, and won't notice the need for therapy or reassurance for our firsty."
"Alright," said Tonks, "Do I have connections in Hufflepuff that I can lean on, to export our firsty there as often as therapy is needed?"
Harry nodded, "except I'm in gryffindor, and that's where my contacts are, and that happens to be where our firsty's best friend her age is, so yes, that was my solution, I don't know enough about hufflepuff or homesickness to ask how they handle that."
"So what's Lion's-Keep?"
"4 gryffindors, 2 ravenclaws and a hufflepuff, and a selection of their familiars intermittently breaking curfew, to give or get snuggles."
"Is there sex?" growled Tonks.
"Nominally yes," said Harry, "But no, not really."
"What does that mean?"
"All of them have expressed desires to be my girlfriends, but I've only had sex with the oldest two of them." Three but we're not counting Nim, because she's not nominally under the protection of the school rules.
"So it's your harem."
"Yes," said Harry, "by the original definition: the building where the family and wards of a noble are under an extra layer of protection within a castle or capital."
She blinked, "Hence keep, hence Lion's keep."
"Yes."
"The people you think of as family?"
Harry nodded.
"Instead of your real family."
Harry shrugged, "you said a family isn't genetics, it's an abstract concept, everyone who wants to be in that family, everyone who I try to care for, not the first cousins who try to kill me or the second and third cousins that barely acknowledge me, or Sirius who won't take me home."
She stared at him and shuddered, "Don't say that like I haven't hugged you every chance I thought I'd get away with it, and a few that were even more risky than that."
Harry shrugged, then noticed how her arms had twitched outward when she'd shuddered. And maybe had been spread out almost as much before …
Harry smiled, and climbed into her lap.
"Oh, thank Merlin," she said.
"What?"
She huffed, "Ten minutes, fifteen maybe."
"What?"
"Time between when I tell you how to be my bratty little sister, and when you actually start snuggling."
"I'm fairly sure you never said …"
"Well no, I didn't want to … err extort affection."
"Merlin damn it," said Harry, "I can throw off the imperious curse, you can give me orders sometimes, it's not going to hurt me."
"Maybe not," said Tonks, "but I don't want dutiful affection, I want real affection, or even a playful simulacrum of affection to annoy my parents, and thereby ironically signalling camaraderie. Which is … almost as good, or better in a different way, I'm not sure."
"You could just say that," said Harry, "Hi my name is Tonks, I'm your second cousin once removed, my love language is physical touch, also listening to me be very slightly not the girl my mother wishes I was. What's yours?"
"What is yours?" said Tonks.
"Primarily, Acts of service," said Harry, "I'm learning to accept most of the others, I'm learning to show them as needed instead of only huddling alertly alone waiting for anyone to get into a trouble that I can help with."
"What's your second favourite?" said Tonks.
"In Lion's-Keep we do this thing where we … ask for the physical touch when we want, which lets it be physical touch for the receiver, and an act of service for the giver. And if we talk about goals and advice and things during, it can count as quality time for those of us who understand that better."
"When we did each other's hair, and you offered me the chance to lend you clothes?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"Where are those clothes now?"
"Folded on the chair beside my bed," said Harry, "I took them off when I took my shower and nap."
"If I asked you to put them on?"
"The subset that fit me right now?" said Harry, "or be Leona so that they all fit?"
"Whichever you prefer," said Tonks.
"I have definite preferences for each, for different reasons," said Harry, "but maybe you're asking for me to signal something, and would like to be more specific."
"Maybe this doesn't need to be about me," said Tonks, "maybe it could be about you this time."
Harry turned a little more sideways, and put his head on her shoulder. And picked up her hand to drape around his shoulder.
"Now who is signalling something without declaring what it is," said Tonks.
"Why would I flirt for more of your attention," said Harry, "When I'm already getting a snuggle?"
Tonks took her hand off his shoulder and poked him in the ribs. On the second poke, he winced and pushed the offending finger away.
"I've been a prefect in hufflepuff," said Tonks, "I know all the bratty moves, don't tempt me."
"I wasn't … I didn't mean I wouldn't, I meant, promise it will be worth my while to … go away and come back?"
"Harry breathe," said Tonks, "you just said, your love language is being dutiful?"
"Maybe, kind of, you might ask me to bodyguard you, and I might buy you armour instead, or the other way around. What you want and what you need and what you manage to communicate, and what I can fulfil might not match at all, but … yes, acts of service."
"And I told you I like physical affection," said Tonks, "and we both agree that the most fun game available is confusing the hell out of the parentals."
"I'm not ruling out sex as more fun," said Harry, "But we probably cannot manage to make that an all day activity."
"Don't tempt me," said Tonks.
"At all?" said Harry, "or not right now, or not more often than once a day?"
"Don't tempt me more often than twice a day," said Tonks, "but especially not while I'm scheming."
"Oh!" said Harry, "I'm listening."
"You asked me to be your big brother, and to be my dress up doll, which I think mirrors the love style you mentioned. I asked you to be my snuggle… err pet, and to be … and to abuse my personal space the same way, as long as I'm dressed and in common space."
"No visiting you in the shower, got it," said Harry.
"Are you trying to get molested?"
"Intermittently," said Harry, "if I were to get insane enough to visit you in the shower uninvited, then yes."
"Are you always like this?" said Tonks.
"No," said Harry, "I'm just recovering from being the older more responsible one of the pair, when I was being the little veela's experimental human."
"I refuse to volunteer to be the older, more responsible partner, in a relationship that includes sex," said Tonks.
Harry froze, then stood and walked two paces away, "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry, I would not want to ask that of anyone. I'm serious about taking full responsibility for which orders I choose to follow. I'm serious about being able to resist the imperious curse, although given the classroom situation, you might wish to ask Auror Moody about what percentage of full power I was even allowed to practice against."
"Oh, good grief," said Tonks.
"I'm serious about not minding sex with you, especially to the extent that you're willing to help me explore my new female form, but I'm also more than willing for that not to be part of any sort of relationship we have."
"Understood," said Tonks, "I might believe you about your ability to tell me 'no' if I ask for a favour you don't wish to provide, I'm less ready to trust you to tell me to 'go away' if you … need me to leave you alone. As such I'm not going to visit you in your room, or rather, not for sex."
Hermione said the same thing, are they right? What am I broadcasting that lets them guess that? "Alright," said Harry.
I snuggle any and all my nifflers in Lion's-Keep, and none in my dorm room.
"Thank you for your consideration," he said and turned to face her.
She nodded, "Can we stop talking about what we might or might not do in the privacy of my bed, and go back to how we prank the parents by showing unusual affection to each other?"
"Oh, hmm, alright," said Harry.
"You like giving and getting 'acts of service'?"
Harry nodded.
"How about having a servant dress you?"
"What?" said Harry, "I don't need—
"I didn't say you needed it," said Tonks, "I said, could you interpret as affection someone acting as your servant in that regard?"
"Probably," said Harry and felt his hair prickle.
"And would you acting as my very dutiful dress up doll—?"
He nodded, "very very much." And realised that the prickle extending down from ear tips to arm pits was heat, not goose-flesh. I must be very red right now.
"And I will wear a big brother face," said Tonks, and assumed exactly that: Harry's face, except short hair and no scar, and a splash of dull purple hair behind her left ear, and a five o'clock shadow.
Harry shivered for a second, then nodded.
"Even though I don't normally wear a recognisable face for long periods."
"Is that a longer period of service or more sacrifice than I should be asking for?"
"Not necessarily," said Tonks, "And maybe I'll just use it when talking or interacting with you, which might make the contract more glaring and disorienting."
She means: more disorienting for the parentals.
"Maybe," agreed Harry.
"I am not going to ask you to be either gender," said Tonks, "I am going to ask you to not destroy my clothes, and to … give me warning whenever you want to change so that I can optionally claim the right and duty to re-dress you."
Harry imagined that happening at the breakfast table, and then in the middle of Diagon Alley. No, no, probably not. He might find robes and underclothes sufficiently gender-less that he could shift in the middle of Diagon without noticeable repercussions, he was not going to beg her for a clothes change in public. Not in a way that could easily track back to Harry Potter.
"I understand the difference," said Harry, "and I'm adding non-dragon hide wand holsters to my shopping list when we visit the leather shop."
Tonks shrugged, "I don't know why you'd downgrade."
"I'm afraid to Leona or back wearing dragon hide," Harry explained, "And I'm afraid to wear it while I'm wearing Leona." He shrugged.
She frowned, "I've never heard of it untransfiguring something, but disrupting a transfiguration spell that hasn't finished forming sounds exactly right."
Harry nodded, "maybe wearing it as Leona would only make the transfiguration spell heavier to maintain the same way it normally just draws magic off my arm."
She nodded, "That sounds right. And you should be able to practice non-living transfiguration of objects resting on top of dragon hide, or wrapped in dragon hide to learn how much you need to overpower them to get them to work as intended."
"So …" said Harry, "You think it would be safe to wear?"
"I'm convinced it could be fine with practice, but first I think you should also familiarise yourself with the results of leaving it in contact with an inanimate-to-animate transfiguration."
"Sounds right," said Harry.
...-...
Choirrespondance
Harry found himself alone and with most of his London stops already added to Tonks schedule for the day after tomorrow, which left him with nothing to do today and feeling bored.
He ought to work on homework.
He wanted to snuggle with all of his Lion's-Keep friends, or relations, or whatever they should be called. Which required doing his other kind of homework, writing letters to all of them to figure out schedules and everything.
Mostly he was probably experiencing withdraw of snuggles with Gabrielle and of coordination flow with Gabrielle and reassurances from Fleur and his own senses that he was doing something significant. Even if it wasn't helping save Britain from Voldemort, or Hogwarts from being closed, or Sirius from being kissed, or Professor Vector from losing her magic, or Gabrielle from failing to mature in an important way.
Withdraw symptoms from significance, it might be something he should contemplate, usually he went out of his way to do things beyond scheduled homework because it seemed significant towards his long term survival of Voldemort. But chasing a significance high sounded dangerously like becoming a Hero for all the wrong reasons. Still it was probably better than being an adrenalin junkie, which is what people actually accused him of.
What he actually did waswander the house, poking things to decide if they were as muggle as they looked or if they had interesting enchantments attached.
There were space expansions in several rooms, most of them placed where they'd be very hard to spot.
On one mantelpiece he found a box of floo powder.
Oh, he knew the answer to this one.
It would take care of two birds with one stone, maybe three if he counted the increasingly aggressive affection that Luna had been showing Hedwig for the past week.
He conjured a tiny ball of bluebell flame in the grate, then tossed in a handful of floo powder, "The rookery," he proclaimed and stepped through.
"Hello Harry," said Mr. Lovegood.
"Hello Mr. Lovegood," said Harry, "is Hedwig around?"
"Probably holed up somewhere in the forest with Luna," replied Mr. Lovegood, and adjusted his spectacles, "Do be gentle with her."
"Huh?"
"Don't work her too hard," he said.
"I …" do have a lot of letters to send, I could prioritise them over several days, "Yes, sir."
Harry went outside and wandered in the direction of anything that might count as 'forest' and mostly found a copse here and an orchard there. He even found a fence and a stile which showed the Weasleys' orchard on the other side. Except to Harry's memory, that boarder of the Weasleys' orchard was backed by a rather high stone wall, not that he'd bothered to examine it closely.
It might be an illusion, no telling from which direction it was or was not what it appeared to be. It might be a space expansion charm rendering a row of rocks into an insurmountable barrier, or the last step off a simple looking stile into a deadly fall. He had packed his broom, but … he'd primarily come to see Hedwig and Luna, he should do that first.
.
He turned away and realised that he could feel the pull of Luna's mark. He followed it across a wild space and a lawn, a stream, and another wild space, this one might have been cleared for a shed or a greenhouse or some other structure a generation or so before, but was in the process of going wild again with shrubs and small trees, and across that into woods much deeper than the rest.
Six minutes or so of traipsing and he felt the prickle of wards, and then they were gone, he turned and tried to see what he'd passed. Tried to sense any sudden inclinations to be elsewhere any … urges to be sure whose wards he'd just violated so he could be sure he was welcome before he proceeded further.
Yes, that's exactly what he felt.
"Hello Harry," said Luna behind him.
He turned to look at her. Her head was sitting on the ground as if she'd been buried alive, or trapped in quicksand.
"Hello, Luna," he said, "I came to visit you, and maybe to borrow Hedwig, if that's alright?"
"Yes," she said, "you're welcome here."
When she said, "welcome," the ground around her vanished revealing a pit the size of a room slightly larger than his bedroom at the Tonks' house. It was backed against the tap root of a tree, though there were protective tapestries or something draped around it to keep bugs and borers in or out, and perhaps to keep the sun off the root. Another root crossed above the pit, most of it disappeared into the far side. Yet another root spiralled down creating the ladder on which Luna stood to look at him.
She was naked except for knee pads and elbow pads and the wand holster he'd given her. Currently she had it turned around backwards to make a wrist pad.
And her braids were fresh and full of flowers and vegetables.
He skirted the pit toward the ladder. Gingerly she sat down on a cot beside a sleeping Hedwig, and stacked up several textbooks.
He climbed down and looked around, it wasn't a proper veela den, no thatch, stones in place of tile, most of the furniture was cushions, probably scavenged from home, or perhaps hand sewn and stuffed with locally sourced plant fibres.
It might represent as much as she could accomplish without magic. Except the illusion ward ceiling, which felt new and thorough.
"Does the ceiling keep the rain out?" he asked.
"Yes," she said proudly, "but not the sun or the wind."
"Nice," he said.
He turned around again, the pictures hanging on the walls were of paintings of various woodland mammals growing veela feathers, and learning to fly, or curled up together in nests.
"How old were you?"
"What?"
"How old was your veela?"
"He was my size," she said.
She still wasn't very big, but…
"How old were you?"
"I was eight," she said, "We were visiting Mum's friends in Serbia, they were thinking about moving away from the fighting, but mostly they just wanted Mom to look at their wards, that they were safe enough for them to stay, or tame enough in case they decided to sell. Dad and I went along to look at the wildlife."
"Of course," said Harry.
"We found all sorts of things," she said.
She shrugged.
"And a veela found me," she said.
Harry nodded.
"It was fun," she said, "But he was very strange, and didn't talk English, and I didn't talk anything else he did, not at first."
And this place was a re-capitulation of an impossibly fraught thing that had happened to her, trying to recreate the fun, trying to understand the impossible to understand, through repetition.
I'm so sorry Luna.
"Does anyone else come here?"
Dad came to see why I wanted to know how to make stone walls, then he showed me and helped me make the walls, and Mum made the ceiling.
"Its very nice," said Harry.
"How long are you staying?" she said, crossing to a huge, mostly flat rock that had a cauldron and burner set up on it, and two cups and saucers and a jar of tea leaves. On second thought they were chipped cups and mismatched saucers and neither burner nor cauldron look like they had much life left. Those weren't her school things, those were discards she was permitted to toy with out of doors.
"How long would you like?" he said.
"For the whole summer if you want," she said, and spooned tea into a cup and poured bubbling water over it.
"I can't stay that long," he said, "But I can visit a lot if you want."
"I would like that," she said, "There's only water or tea to drink, here, there's real food at the house."
"Tea would be nice," he agreed.
She set the cup she'd just started in a saucer and slid them across the stone toward one of the waiting cushions, and started fixing the other cup.
He sat where he seemed to be told.
"There's honey," she said, "But I think it steeps better if you wait until it's done steeping before you add the honey."
"You're probably right," he agreed.
"How long are you staying today," she said.
"I was thinking about until just before tea time, but I'll leave before lunch if you think that would please your father more."
"No, he's probably already forgotten you're here."
"Oh."
"It's that time of week, lots of deadlines."
"Oh."
"If you're not about to leave again," she said, "you should take your clothes off in the house."
Shades of Gabrielle, yet completely different. She kept the tradition, because tradition, yet had none of the vehemence of instinct to back it up.
"Because it is a veela house after all," Harry said.
She stared at him, "it is my house," she countered.
"Right," he said and stood up.
He took off his shirt and trousers and hung them up on an extra hook that swung from the root that crossed barely overhead.
"Is this enough?" he said, "or all the rest?"
"All the rest except claws and holsters for them."
He took off the rest. He checked again. She wasn't armed, but she did have a quill sharpening knife over by her reading nook.
He sat again and swirled his tea around, it was dark enough to call drinkable, but it was still too hot.
"How have you been this summer?"
"Lonely," she said, "I visit Ginny a lot, and Susan has been visiting us often. We're invited to Hanna's birthday party at Susan's."
"Who's 'we'?"
"All of Lion's-Keep, Neville, and Ron. I'm not supposed to know about Neville, but it's hard not to hear things sometimes."
"Alright," said Harry.
"Ginny and I are invited to go early to help decorate and cook, but only if we feel like it."
"When is that?"
"Fourth of August, the party is the next day."
"So it's a baking day and slumber party?"
"Yes," said Luna, "you should come too, Sher is a good pillow."
"I'll think about it," said Harry, "So what are you doing today?"
"I was working on homework," she said, "but now you're here."
"Now I'm here," agreed Harry.
"How was your summer?"
"I've been lonely," said Harry, "Nim is missing."
"And you left Hedwig with me."
"Yeah."
"And you let a veela find you."
"Yeah."
"And then you let a human find your veela?"
Harry sighed, "They made us both promise to let ourselves be found before they let us get away to start with."
She nodded, "your veela could talk to you?"
"Yes, though I did help her learn more English, and she did teach me more French."
"Good," she said, "What do you want to do now?
"I was thinking about writing to everyone from Lion's-Keep, to make sure they knew I'm back in Britain."
"Good," she said, "Hedwig wants exercise."
"Your dad reminded me to be careful about working her too hard."
She gave him a sceptical eyebrow, "I don't think he meant that. I'm sure as soon as you wake her, she'll want as many letters as you can give her, except maybe not to Bulgaria."
"There is that," agreed Harry.
She blinked at him.
"Is that alright?" he said, "coming all the way here, and then spending time writing letters."
"It's alright," she said, "I can sit in your lap to work on homework, while you write your letters."
"That could work," he agreed. And then remembered that they were both sans clothes. "Luna?" he said.
"I know how to snuggle a veela for fun," she said, "And I know how to snuggle a veela for just staying warm and asleep."
Harry swallowed.
"I think wizards ought to be similar," she said, "But if I'm doing it wrong, tell me."
"We can do that," he agreed, "and I promise to tell you if you're doing something I don't like, or think it's not time for."
"Good," she said, "Finishing our homeworks before sex."
He sighed, and found, he was actually alright with that. If that continued to be what she wanted.
.
They finished their tea and he got out his stationary, she brought over her book. After two minutes of discomfort and lots of impossibly bad posture, he conjured an arm chair, and a proper writing desk, then changed its size several times to make it compatible with the chair and with someone sitting across his lap while he tried to write.
By the time he finished the first letter, Luna's head was on his shoulder.
By the time he finished the third, her book was closed in her lap and she was asleep.
By the time he'd finished all except Hermione's (though he had lots of notes toward an outline for hers,) she didn't seem at all inclined to notice if he moved.
He carried her to her bed, which seemed to be made of bed parts, but trying very hard to appear to be a cot. Tucking her in woke Hedwig.
Hedwig was ecstatic to see him, and climbed all over both his shoulders, and bit his ears and beat him about the head and shoulders with her wings, and climbed up and down to elicit more petting, and finally settled down enough that he didn't feel bad directing her attention to the stack of letters he had ready.
She inspected them all and made him tell her who each was for, twice, then selected Ginny's and left, and came back less than ten minutes later and took Susan's. By that time he'd rolled Luna into a ball, folded himself around her, and spread her blanket over them both, and when that proved unsatisfactory, he conjured a bigger quilt of blue and yellow, and conjured a pillow big enough for them both.
Half an hour later, he was vaguely aware of Hedwig returning, and when he looked up the letters to the Patils were gone.
And then he must have slept.
.
He woke up to find Luna shaking him.
"Hello Bird," he said, "where are we?" Then her very very different hair registered. "Luna, what's up?"
"Ginny's trying to get into my room," she said, "Let's go."
"She doesn't look for you here?"
"No," said Luna. She was already dressing, sort of, in a sundress that barely came to her knee pads, and a skirt that came a few inches farther, and a ratty witch's hat that had no business being forced to cope with everything that she'd done to her hair. "I tried to tell her about this once and she only thought I'd had a very strange dream, or was repeating a fairy story I'd read somewhere, she thought I was silly to dig it, she thinks I gave it up after less than a month, I only gave up trying to tell her about it."
"Oh," said Harry, "Merlin, I'm sorry."
Luna shrugged, "get dressed for walking through the woods to Dad's house."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said and crossed to his clothes.
He dressed as normal.
While he did that, she gave everything a once over, including but not limited to: stacking up her books in a cabinet that might in fact be waterproof in case the ceiling failed, or perhaps in case it wasn't dew proof, dumping her cauldron and making triple sure that her burner was out, and even unconjuring his armchair, but not his writing desk.
Then they were ready and climbed out and crossed the woods and field and yard and inside to climb the stairs.
"Hello Ginny," Luna called, "you may go in."
.
Luna's room was decorated completely differently than her faux veela den, the furniture was entirely mage standard shapes and sizes, with the same yellow / orange colour scheme as the rest of the house. Probably matched some Lovegood's hair once upon a time, even if it was off by several shades by now.
The paintings though were of … Lion's-Keep members, every one of them nude except for wand holsters, except the lighting was stylised enough to alleviate some of the need for careful shading, and allow for stark outlines instead, every one of them with a braid crown, every one of them with a Lion's-mark wherever they had their mark, or wherever they wore their item that contained it.
Hermione's mark wasn't on her body, it was trailing up from a wand she wielded.
Ginny's mark, which she didn't have yet, was on her belly, with the omega of Sher's ear encircling her navel.
Harry was himself from toes to a diagonal line through his navel, and tanned with understated breasts up until Leona's neck, and partly obscuring her face was her lit wand tip, with smoky rays trailing out from it. In one sixth was his lion face and his mark, in another sixth was his own eye and black braid crown with a tiny veela feather in one loop of braid, another sixth was Leona's ear and blond and red braids, sweat dripping profusely, and floating away in dark oblong globules, another sixth was half Sher's mouth snarling defiance, also mane and a hint of shoulder before another smokey trail of glowing magic provided another boarder below which was only Leona, and the last two sixths were Leona and Harry again, the blue streak of Leona's braids neatly disguised by the flash of the magic from the wand. And the last trailing tip of one braid, was decorated with a long veela feather.
He'd made up Leona yesterday.
"When did you paint this?"
"After the second night Sher slept in Lion's-Keep," said Luna, "Parvati helped with the colours."
"Painted what?" said Ginny.
He turned to look at her, noticed how little she'd reacted to the pictures, at first he'd assumed she'd seen them before. Now he wasn't so sure.
"How many of Luna's paintings can you see?" he said.
She pointed to Luna's self portrait, with braids sporting vegetables and veela feathers, a fox at her heels and a pleasant set of eyes peeking out of the bright foreground.
He looked around again, Hermione had Crooks.
Padma's monkey form was riding on Parvati's shoulder, and in her own picture Padma was on Parvati's horse form, firing a spell down and to the side while also dodging around a glowing curse in such a way that the mark on her back was exposed. Harry was fairly sure that position would be too uncomfortable for Luna to have ever interested Padma in posing for it. Which meant it must be entirely from memory or imagination.
Nim and Hedwig were on Harry's shoulders, but in human form, at least from the mouth down, and true to form, the human parts were nude. Which made it seem more like some kind of masked opera poster.
Harry shivered.
He looked away, "And that one," Ginny was saying, pointing to a framed image mounted to a bookend on Luna's desk, which appeared to be an illustration from a book. Surely no one in the Lovegood household would cut up a book for an illustration?
But then, some older books were printed without their illustrations and the illustrations were bound in separately, or attached with a sticking charm.
He wouldn't put it past a Lovegood to know how to disassemble a book to get at an illustration they liked, and then lovingly reassemble the book, or to insert an entirely new set of illustrations more to their liking.
There was also the twinning charm.
Harry crossed to the desk and examined the picture. It seemed to be a picture of a woman in orange and blue dreaming of fairies and cupids and imps, mostly scantily clad. Many with interesting hats made of flowers or butterflies.
"Alright," said Harry, "She's painted more, but maybe you aren't ready to see them yet."
"Which one bothered you?" said Ginny.
"Myself," said Harry.
"What are you doing in it?"
"Threatening to cast a spell," said Harry, "getting ready to be protective, mostly."
"Oh," said Ginny, "Am I in it?"
"No," said Harry, "There's a dead basilisk, by my feet, and the sword of gryffindor in my left hand, and my right hand has a white wand, the flash of wand light separates the view of my face into sixths and some of the sixths are Sher instead."
"Oh," she said.
And the basilisk puncture on his arm was still bleeding, in fact it was blood or something streaking away from the wound that provided the lower divide between Harry and Leona. In fact, if that spiral of blood was a hint of motion, the rest of the posture made more sense.
He wasn't standing defiance, he was in constant motion, nicked by the basilisk, but still in motion, still looking who else needed to be fought.
It was an uncomfortable image. Because it left no room for … study or snuggling.
"Luna," he said.
"What?"
"Could you paint another picture of me?"
"If you want," she said, "what do you want it to look like?"
"I want it to be a playhouse picture."
"With feathers?"
"Yes."
"With Sher?"
"Yes, Sher and Nim and Hedwig," said Harry, "curled up in a rabbit nest."
"A big rabbit nest or small animals?"
"Very small animals," said Harry, "but not baby animals, and behind them and all around them books. Books on shelves behind them and books in the nest with them that they were reading before they fell asleep together."
"Yes, I can paint that," she said.
"Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome," she said.
.
"What's next?" said Ginny.
"What do you think should be next?" said Harry.
"No one's fixed your braid in much too long," said Ginny.
Harry sighed, "I was hoping I'd have Nim back before I took it out, but … it's …"
"Too horrible to look at," said Ginny, "Don't worry, Luna and I are both fairly good at braiding by now."
He stared at her, and then relented, He hadn't let either of them braid his hair yet, they sort of deserved it, and if they didn't give him a choice about what to decorate —
"I'll go pick something to put in it," said Luna, "should I look for something specific?"
"Would it offend you if I asked for small heather stems without flowers." He held up his fingers to indicate what he meant by small.
"That makes sense," said Luna, "cedar is too sticky this time of year."
Harry blinked and wondered how to ask about that, but she was already gone.
Ginny plopped on a corner of the bed and pointed out a stool so nearby that it must be positioned solely for that purpose. He retrieved his hair brush from his pouch and placed himself on the stool.
She got started. He helped with the untying of braids, then let her work.
He looked around. He was within reach of the night stand, under the detritus of notes and letters was a stack of books, the second one down was, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He'd heard of that. Nim used to tell him stories from it, and several other things, while she looked for anything to hunt and he tried to sleep. But outside her memories he'd never seen a real copy. He picked it up.
"Oh, start with the hopping pot," said Ginny when she saw what he had, "That's my favourite."
"Alright," he said, and he did.
.
Next he read the wizard with the hairy heart, which seemed to be an allegory about memory relics like you-know-who's, or else about pride, trickery, and surprisingly little lust all things considered.
They had a long discussion about where the allegory broke down, until suddenly Harry realised that they were leaving Luna completely out of the conversation.
"Luna, do you have a favourite fairy tale?"
"Alexandra," said Luna, "It's not in that book, it's in Arachne's big book of Greek Yarn."
She got it down for him from her large book case.
True to its name it was a huge tome.
The frontispiece was of a four armed, extra eyed, centaur … paragliding? into the sky carrying a snake, a spotted cat, a hornet's nest, and a fairy, all bound in nets of spider web, strapped around his chest were musical instruments. It seemed like he was playing a harp with two hands while, holding his captives in one hand and hanging onto the rope from above in the other hand. His hooves had claws under them. Maybe he was climbing the rope.
There seemed like so much going on Harry flipped to the back piece just in case there was more to the picture. But no, a completely different picture: the same centaur at sunset carrying a jar of scrolls toward a cave where there were two young women and a young man, just starting to build a fire.
In that picture the centaur's eight eyes were glowing with reflected light and from the new angle and with twilight shadows providing more perspective, the curves of his rump were proportioned a bit differently. A bit more obviously.
A bard named Arachne, right, not a horse centaur, of course.
.
Alexandra turned out to be a story about a girl who fell in love with Loxias, the sun, and chased him morning to night, finally the sun noticed that she always ran, looking up at him and not where she was going, and always falling into trouble that way, so he came down to see what she was up to.
After several days of trying to dissuade her from risking herself so, he blessed her to see where she was going without looking.
As a side effect it also meant she could see where everyone else was going. For a while everything was better, but by and by she learned a new way to think, appropriate to knowing what everyone else would do, and for a while things were even better, but gradually she forgot the old way, how to think the way everyone else did, she also forgot how to talk the way everyone else did. And finally no one could understand her. And as she was no use to anyone where she was, eventually she was given away, as a concubine to a great warrior who reminded her of the sun she loved, by and by he became king. Which she'd known and tried to tell him. But he only barely understood. She had two sons for him, which she'd known and had told him, which he had understood and been thankful for. But while the king was away fighting, one of his soldiers that was meant to be protecting her house, came to her just as she'd always known he would, and gave her a daughter, who would never be born, because soon afterwards the soldier (being faithless himself, became suspicious of her), and unable to extract from Alexandra a promise of silence that he could understand, regarding what he'd been up to, killed her and her two sons.
They are all buried in the field where Alexandra had first met the Loxias, where he took pity on her bruises and the foolish scrapes she always tumbled into, for looking at him instead of where she was going.
.
"Okaaaay," said Harry after he'd finished.
Luna and Ginny sighed.
He looked at Luna, "what did you like about this story again?"
"Yeah, it's a tragedy," said Ginny, "I think their idea of a happy ending wasn't 'the heros live happily ever after,' but 'the world returns to mostly normal for mostly everyone.'"
"Fair," said Harry, "I was asking Luna."
"She sees the world differently than everyone else," said Luna, "But she keeps trying anyway, trying to talk, trying to warn, trying to help people, and at the end, only trying to care."
Harry nodded.
Luna, who gave up on telling Ginny about her veela experience, but didn't give up digging and trying to come to terms with it.
Luna, who gave up on the wider Hogwarts social scene by accepting the protection of invisibility, but kept going to Hogwarts, kept hanging out with Ginny, and Harry and Hermione, and now all of Lion's-Keep.
Luna, who sometimes seemed the oldest person he knew, and sometimes the youngest.
And always, always, always said important things just a little weird.
"Thank you for sharing it with us," said Harry.
Ginny huffed, "I'd already heard it."
"I'd heard it differently," said Harry, "but that one was mostly about soldiers and gods and broken promises and sex, not about Alexandra and who helped her and who she helped."
Luna nodded, "This one is better."
"I agree," said Harry.
.
"Your hair is done," said Ginny, "and I should probably go home, but … are you coming to Hanna's party?"
"Yes, probably," said Harry, "Are you going early?"
"I haven't yet made up Mum's mind," said Ginny, "Which probably means 'no'."
"Alright," said Harry.
"Can Leona come early?" said Luna.
"I don't know," said Harry, "I'll have to find out what her schedule looks like."
"Well," said Luna, "I want to meet her anyway."
"Who's Leona," said Ginny.
"No one," said Luna, "Everyone."
"Oh," said Harry.
"That doesn't sound ominous at all," said Ginny.
Harry shrugged, "it's an interesting strategem, I'll have to think about how or if I'd wish to deploy it."
"Is whatever you two have, catching?" said Ginny.
Harry picked up the Arachne book and tapped it at her, "Very."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Means if he'd grown up with me, he'd be a ravenclaw," said Luna, "But he didn't so he's not, not yet."
"Maybe I should also spend more time around Susan in order to broaden my horizons," said Harry.
"Yes, you should," said Luna.
"Also more time around me," said Ginny.
"Understood," said Harry and gave her a salute.
She rolled her eyes.
"You were going home before someone got worried?"
"Oh, yeah," she said, "Unless you and Luna want to come also?"
He looked at Luna.
Luna glanced at her picture of Padma. Then at Harry's picture then at Harry. "You should go home, I should go with her, you should come back as soon as you can, you should not worry if it's not as soon as you are thinking about promising right now."
Harry closed his mouth and frowned, "then I won't make it a promise," he said.
"What were you going to say?" said Ginny.
"Tomorrow after my homework," said Harry.
"That would be nice," agreed Ginny, "you know both our floo addresses."
"The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, and The Rookery."
"Yes," they both said.
.
...-...
Tableaux
"So?" said Tonks as they sat at tea, "Who did your hair?"
"Ginny and Luna."
"Don't know them," said Tonks, "where did you find them?"
"Ginny Weasley's in gryffindor, Luna Lovegood is in ravenclaw. I flooed over to Luna's house."
Tonks stared at him.
Andromeda muttered under her breath about sometimes house sorting does follow from surnames.
"Are they who usually braid your hair?" said Tonks.
"No," said Harry, "Usually it's Hermione, or one of the Patil twins."
"Then … what did you go over there for?"
"Luna has a way with animals," said Harry, "I asked her to keep Hedwig while I was out of the country. I visited to check up on her and send letters, Ginny is her neighbour and visited while I was doing that." Harry shrugged.
"And that ended with herbs in your hair?"
Harry shrugged, "I … sort of knew what I was getting into when I agreed to hair braiding with Luna around."
"Did anything else happen?" said Tonks.
Harry realised she was either asking about sex, or she was asking about 'enough snuggle friends at Hogwarts, but I'm not at Hogwarts right now.'
"Not really," said Harry, "While they were working I read them each the fairy tales they asked for."
"Ah," said Tonks, "which ones?"
"The Hopping Pot from Beadle the Bard and Alexandra from Arachne."
Tonks nodded and looked at her mother.
Andromeda said, "Arachne is on the shelf before Bullfinch and Homer."
"Oh!" said Tonks, "Fine. … Good."
She sent Harry a mischievous glance.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
She sent him a look that declared that the game was afoot and that he'd find it amusing, but his active participation was not yet required.
He shrugged and went back to eating.
"So," said Ted, "What's the herb?"
"Heather," said Harry.
Ted nodded, "I thought so."
.
After another losing battle with Andromeda about who was allowed the honour of demonstrating love by washing dishes, Harry retreated upstairs, to find Tonks in the sitting room at the top of the stairs, sitting at the end of the couch with her feet up on the coffee table, wearing a face suspiciously not her own nor his, but perhaps a mix. Paging through a large tome.
Her placement and posture, he was fairly sure, meant something performative. You can take the Black out of Slytherin but you cannot take the Slytherin out of the Black.
Harry wandered over to see what the book was about, in case it gave a clue about the performance.
She was staring at the title page of Arachne, and the wizard photo pasted in.
And the dedication, no that was what the author wrote, this was a statement about the book being a wedding gift from Dorea Potter to Andromeda Tonks. And something about the two of them being the best behaved Blacks. Which was probably meant to be hilarious or comforting, given the circumstances of each, and the fact that Dorea claimed that they were each the favourite Niece or Aunt of the other.
"So that is my grandmother?" whispered Harry.
"Yeah," said Tonks looking up. That's whose face she was trying to imitate at the moment.
"Hmm," said Harry, "No, I don't think so."
Tonks turned her left sideburn more purple.
"Still no," said Harry, "But … thanks for the thought, I think."
She smiled and let her face resume its normal shape.
Then she patted the couch, "That's alright, come over and let Cousin Tonks read you a good night story anyway."
Harry thought that through, several different ways, then nodded, "Do you want me in night clothes first?"
She shrugged, then smirked, then nodded.
"Alright," he said and went to change for bed.
.
She showed up about five minutes later, like she'd forgotten she'd offered to valet him until after he'd already all but finished.
Then she glared at his clothes.
"What?" he said.
She shrugged, "somehow I'd figured you had wizard night clothes, or muggle night clothes not a weird mixture, of … subconsciously trying to satisfy both traditions without allowing for the fact that they are separate traditions."
Harry stared at her, "Are you trying to offer to take your little step-brother clothes shopping?"
She took a deep breath through her nose, then she shrugged, "'Shopping' might be the expensive version of what I want."
"Um?"
"Do you mind if I transfigure that into something normal?"
Harry grimaced.
"What did I say wrong?" she said.
"'Normal' is my muggle uncle's word for 'muggle.'"
She shrugged.
"It's the opposite of 'unnatural,' which means roughly, 'become orderly' very quickly or expect to be beaten on returning home."
She grimaced herself, then shrugged, "Do you mind if I transfigure that into something 'unnatural' then?"
They smirked at each other.
"Go ahead," said Harry, and stood very still.
She drew her wand, and concentrated for a second, then made a change.
Harry inspected. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was all very … it was loose and flowing, even in a few places where he knew enough to not wish it to be loose.
Except that loose didn't matter for bed the way it mattered for every day.
"Alright," said Harry.
"Is that all?" she said, "I could make it into a female style if you'd prefer."
Harry stuck his tongue out at her.
She winced like Ron did when Hermione did that. Then relaxed and glared differently. The way he'd expect from Aunt Petunia.
Maybe the gesture meant something different in Mage culture.
Harry shrugged, "I'd like to practice with that too, but maybe not tonight?"
She grinned, nodded, and put her wand away.
.
Soon they were curled up on the couch, and she was reading Arachne and letting him see the pictures, and he was pretending that she was the mother or big sister that he'd never had, who read him the mage children's bedtime versions of Greek myths, instead of Hermione, who read him textbooks, or Nim, who'd repeated mage children's bedtime stories from memory and sometimes had shown him the pictures she'd seen in her books, and sometimes the pictures she'd made up in her own mind, and all while also distracted with hunting.
He tried not to think about that. Or he'd probably cry again, and Tonks would notice immediately, because she been a hufflepuff prefect.
Also because it would interrupt the story.
Also because it would ruin the tableaux that they were staging in case their … her parents ever noticed.
.
And later as he lay in bed, alone, he contemplated that, 'being too old to need bedtime stories' needn't block him from enjoying them when they were offered. Being too old to need the comfort of a snuggle before bed or any other time, needn't block him from accepting it when it was offered.
...-...
{End Chapter 4}
