An Awfully Cursed Potter

Chapter Two.

Happily Ever after.

Harry Potter ate breakfast, watching Hermione distractedly eating toast while reading a report with one hand. He eyed her tea-cup, and hit it with a warming charm. She turned the page, intent on the report.

"Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Mmm?" she said, still reading.

"I um. Sort of got another niece. Daughter… ish," said Harry.

She looked up at him, and frowned "Don't be ridiculous." she said. "Nobody could be both. And you certainly didn't have another child I didn't know about, did you?" she said, and the silence filled the room. Loaded, magically charged silence. Vine wand flavoured silence.

Harry wished the wizarding wireless was on.

"Um," said Harry. "My lawyer was checking out what assets I've got."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him at this point. "Yes," she said coldly, "I did notice."

"So, she found there was a LeStrange heir," said Harry. Hermione blinked slowly twice.

"And well, the goblins nearly banned her from access to the LeStrange vault for being somehow blood-related to me." Harry thought about that for a little bit. "Becuase Voldemort's body, the one he died in, that one he used my blood to make," he said "That's my working theory anyway."

"Where is the report?" asked Hermione in a 'Minister of magic' sort of tone.

"Look, I'm just telling you, so I met Delphini – she's seventeen I think, at Hogwarts. I've got the kids and Malfoy's spawn taking care of her. All her cousins. From what I found out, she was raised by a nanny, and Lucius Malfoy was paying, and of course dear Lucy got out didn't he, and went to see the girl, and has been telling her bullshit. Anyway, she's probably going to be at Malfoy Manor – they've got more rooms, and a pool, and Draco's obviously furious with his parents. Even though Narcissa knew, she did nothing 'bastards are the husbands problem', god. What a cow, Anyway, Scorpius has taken to having a big sister like a kitten to wool, and wrote his grandmother a strongly worded letter. James and Al are being pretty good about it, and Lily's stoked, obviously."

"An official report, from the head of the DMLE, Harry," said Hermione "She represents a threat to the safety of magical Britain."

"She's just a kid," said Harry. "Orphan, brought up by people who hated her, told a bunch of lies. She just needs family."

"Harry. That is exactly how you killed Voldemort," said Hermione, no longer reading the report or eating. Glaring at him instead.

"I expect a proper report on my desk by noon. We'll send a squad to take her into protective custody, of course."

"We what?" said Harry. "Protective custody? Where?"

"Azkaban, of course," said Hermione "If she's his daughter, she'll be powerful enough to wreak havoc, and the remaining Death Eaters will rally around her. We'll have a third war, Harry. A third blood war, and you're casually joking about having another daughter!"

"She's not a bad kid," said Harry, feeling a little like his skin didn't fit, like his skeleton was too tall for his body.

Harry resorted to going to see his lawyer first thing. He had a horrible feeling he needed legal advice.

The outer door to his lawyer's office was locked, so he banged on it. For a bit. Till someone answered, you know.

There was a loud crack behind the door as if someone had apparated.

The door opened on a chain, and Daphne Greengrass peered out at him, her hair up in a bun, in a short brown coat. And possibly trousers and boots. He ignored that.

"I need legal advice," he said. "The minister wants… I'm not all comfortable. She wants to put Delphini in 'protective custody.'"

The door closed, and reopened without the chain.

"Come in then." she said, quietly, and led off to her office. She was wearing weirdly tight cream trousers and boots under a short, tightly fitted black coat, and Harry really wondered what on earth that was about. And wanted a photo, but he had priorities. She sat down at her desk, and pointed to the door. Harry closed it and put the privacy bar across.

"Tell me what's going on," she said, taking up a quill.

Harry explained about getting the kids to take Delphini on as a cousin, and the weird way Hermione had over-reacted. Greengrass took notes.

"She wants to … put a seventeen-year-old girl in Azkaban, because of her parents?" asked Greengrass. "Has she been taking jurisprudence lessons from the Fudge years?"

"Lucius knows what's going on" said Harry. "I'd like to pull him in and fill him with veritaserum. But Hermione wants a report by lunchtime and a squad of Aurors to go get Delphini."

"It could be worse. She could take a Dementor," said Greengrass sarcastically. "You have a direct order you don't want to obey, and need a search warrant for Lucius. I suggest you… fill in the paperwork yourself."

"You're here to help me," said Harry, "Not tell me to get stuffed." She had a soft white scarf round her neck tucked into her jacket. He really had no idea why she wasn't wearing her grey outfit.

"Why are you dressed like that?" asked Harry.

"I was riding my horse, obviously," said Greengrass, "Having read your handwriting for months, if you were to fill in the paperwork for organising a squad, it could be stuck being sent back for explanation for a while. During which time you could explain to the Minister how you need to interrogate Lucius Malfoy, because he's…"

"He's the ringleader, in this case," said Harry. "Fairly sure."

"Would she sign a warrant like that?"

"Yesterday, I thought she wouldn't order a kid into Azkaban," said Harry, "I have no fucking idea."

"Potter, this may be hard to imagine, but nobody alive could fight him except you. People assume his daughter would be as dangerous."

Harry snorted, "Not a chance. Tom spent sixty years learning magic. At seventeen, he was a creepy one-trick pony. I fought a sixteen-year old copy of him… he was truly evil, but I won. I was only twelve. He was evil and dumb."

"How was there a copy of him, how could that work?"

"All that is state secrets," said Harry bluntly, "And your advice is use messy handwriting?"

"And complain about Lucius. Hell, blame him for the paperwork delays perhaps. Use her fear for good." said Greengrass.

"You are very cynical person," said Harry.

"Lawyer," said Greengrass. "Are we done? I've got a horse to curry, and then I need a shower." She sniffed her coat and grimaced.

"You're… going to eat a horse?"

"Curry, as in brush down," said Greengrass, "God! I love my horse. I wouldn't eat her."

"Why do you need a shower?" asked Harry.

"Because I had a ride after breakfast." said Greengrass. "As one does." she added. "When one has a lack of male companionship." she added more suggestively.

Harry fled, and she called out "We'll invoice you!" as the door closed behind him.

Her plan, fortunately, worked. Lucius was interrogated at Azkaban, and the notes Harry took were so dangerous Harry hand-carried them to Hermione's office, and barged in recklessly before lunch.

"We can't go to Hogwarts today," he announced. Hermione looked up from her desk, frowning "Why not?" she asked.

"Because I need everyone for a raid on Nott Hall, that's where the time-travel device is being held" said Harry.

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"Before you ask, longer duration than a time-turner. Years. They've worked out a way to change the past, in some way so that I lose. Yes, that's not how time-turners work." Harry stopped and waited.

"How? You?" she asked.

"Head of DMLE, literally my job," said Harry. "I would also say, as a reminder that taking Aurors or even Dementors to arrest a teenage girl for having parents we didn't like is … it makes us worse than them. Makes the whole sodding war pointless if we're going to be like that."

Hermione, logical, sensible, sometimes pyromaniac Hermione, burst into tears at this point. Harry left rather than deal with a crying woman. But at least he'd prevented the Ministry from doing something awful, so there was that.

-==0==-

Harry was asleep in bed, significantly alone, when a Silvery Tabby cat woke him up.

"Harry Potter. You are needed urgently at Hogwarts. Use the Hogwarts infirmary floo address" said the cat in Minerva McGonagall's voice, over and over. Harry batted at the glowing cat and it stopped talking, licked one paw and vanished.

Panic accelerated Harry's pulse. He imagined where his good boots were, his trousers from yesterday would do... any shirt from the wardrobe, His hand found his glasses, he pushed them on, and slid out of bed. He glared at his wand, and it started glowing, enough to see by.

Harry dressed quickly and silently, pulled on his old Auror boots, clipped them shut, and headed downstairs. His children's portraits on the wall shone in the half moon-light.

At least it couldn't be werewolf related, he thought. He grabbed a cloak from the pegs by the door, and went to the front room. A jab from his wand lit the fireplace, and he gathered up a pinch of floo powder. He entered the green flames called out "Hogwarts infirmary" and tumbled uncontrollably every which way for a minute, finally being ejected onto a stone floor. The thick cloak's padding saved him from serious injury, and he stood up, next to a wall with a desk. Madam Pomfrey's office, he assumed, as there was a view out into the infirmary, lit by several glowing orbs on chains.

Harry inhaled – the disinfectant smell was so familiar, and he was instantly in a worse mood. Fear and Loathing.

He walked into the infirmary ward, his old Auror issue boots scrunching on the flagstones.

"Ah, Mr Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, she'd turned her head, she was bent over a small figure in a bed, "ask Minerva."

Over by a pair of beds, Professor McGonagall stood, in her distinctive night-hat and bathrobe. Harry peered in the dim light, 'was she wearing fluffy slippers?' he wondered.

He walked over.

"Mister Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "It's Albus. Well, Albus and Scorpius." she gestured to two beds with boys in them. "They were found in dorms, frothing at the mouth and having fits."

"Poison," said Harry.

"Well unless they both had taken Billywig venom – Albus has inherited your intolerance of it." said Professor McGonagall.

Harry considered, for a second that Al and that boy had been taking illegal drugs. And discarded it – Al could not be that stupid.

"So," said Harry, "I take it they're stable."

"Poppy would be fussing over them, but Miss Meeks has come down with a nasty case of vanishing sickness. Her parents saw fit to send her to Hogwarts unvaccinated," said Professor McGonagall, looking like she was in actual pain from the thought, "That's going to be a very annoying conversation."

Harry sighed, "So Al is okay?" he asked.

"He's in a coma, Potter. Poppy will of course save him, but no, he is not 'okay,'" said Professor McGonagall, and Harry found himself leaping to the bed with the non-blond boy in it, bending down and listening to his breath, Al's nose tickling his ear. Al was breathing. A little raggedly, but breathing.

"Potter, I did say they were going to live," said Professor McGonagall, "There's no need to panic."

Harry unbent a little, resting one hand on the metal bead-head and stared at Al. He was very pale, with purple marks on his neck like his veins had gone wrong. Harry wondered, groggily, who would poison his boy. And when he found them, he'd boil their blood in their veins. And then get properly nasty.

A voice rang out – nearly deafening Harry "WHERE IS MY NEPHEW!" Harry winced in pain– he suspected he'd just cracked a tooth. He turned, and silhouetted in the door to Madam Pomfrey's office was a Valkyrie with a halo of white-blonde hair.

"I really wish Filius wouldn't teach them to voice-project," said Professor McGonagall tiredly. "Miss Greengrass, over here. If you'd keep your voice down, I believe some of the other students in the castle are still asleep."

Daphne Greengrass, (apparently) dashed closer making an odd soft thudding noise, and then she got closer in the dim light, Harry saw that she wasn't dressed as a Valkyrie. She was in a lime green terry-towelling dressing gown hastily pulled on over a yellowy-white nightgown, and she was wearing... yellow wellies. Harry tried not to snort. Greengrass's hair was actually a dishevelled mess, and her face was far more human-looking than Harry had ever seen, but her eyes were fixed on the little blond boy on the bed next to him. She got to the boy and bent over, stroking Scorpius's cheek.

"What's going on?" she asked, not taking her eyes off Scorpius.

"These two are in a coma. They'll live, but Poppy's a little busy keeping Miss Meeks from vanishing. When she's stable, doubtless Poppy will come and explain, quietly, what is going on. Poisoning is suspected, unless the boy has an intolerance to something, for example," Professor McGonagall paused, her accent as sharp as a buzz-saw, "Billywig venom. They were found fitting and foaming at the mouth in bed in dorms," Professor McGonagall paused and referred to her wristwatch, "Approximately two hours ago."

"Whoever did this is doing to pay," said Daphne Greengrass, and Harry couldn't help noticing that she had lines around her eyes, and were those freckles? Daphne Greengrass had freckles… Huh.

"Well I'm sure the head of the DMLE will make their names available to a lawyer," said Professor McGonagall tiredly.

"You misunderstand me," said Daphne Greengrass, standing up and inhaling. Harry accidentally caught a glimpse of a very bust-shaped pair of nice bulges in the night-gown, and he tried not to stare – the cool night air had made one nipple quite pointy. Harry looked at Professor McGonagall instead.

"His grandmother will want vengeance on the perpetrator, then to throw them into Azkaban," said Daphne Greengrass, rearranging her deranged dressing-gown.

"Well, I'm sure the head of the DMLE can do that without, perhaps, assaulting them first," said Professor McGonagall.

"Don't bet on it," said Harry slowly, his skin itching, feeling like the room was crushing him and everything needed to be exploded.

"And, I have to ask," said Professor McGonagall, "Am I about to have a surprise visit by Ms Weasley and the press?"

"I didn't tell her," said Harry.

"Well, given her predilections, I'll put some tea on," said Professor McGonagall. "But still, ten points to Gryffindor."

"That's totally unfair!" said Daphne Greengrass, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's not even a student any more! That's blatant pro-Gryffindor bias."

"Ten points from Slytherin for that dreadful racket, Miss Greengrass," said Professor McGonagall, and she smiled a tiny smile, "I have discovered an exciting loophole in the school rules, helpful for dealing with parents, and obviously, aunts who have to act as parents due to their sister's poor choices in husbands."

"You're a bitter spiteful old woman," said Daphne Greengrass.

"Lucius Malfoy literally endangered every person at Hogwarts in your second year, Miss Greengrass, Draco did the same in your sixth year, as an actual Death Eater. At that time, Potter was almost our only hope," said Professor McGonagall.

"That's nineteen years ago!" said Daphne Greengrass indignantly.

"Yet, here we are, with Potter asking politely, and quietly, whereas you instead demonstrated your ability to break windows. Should we need a Banshee cowed, you will be my first choice," said Professor McGonagall. "Oddly, I find being woken in the middle of the night to send parents an emergency message rather stressful. Control yourself, young lady."

"I'm not the adulterer," said Daphne Greengrass. Harry glared at his lawyer.

"Yes he is quite flawed," said Professor McGonagall, "Whereas you're a spinster with control issues."

"I'm actually divorced," said Daphne Greengrass, and Harry tried not to react. Greengrass had … married someone? She never mentioned that. And it annoyed him. The secret keeping, obviously.

"Oh," said Professor McGonagall, "I suppose you can learn from your mistakes."

Daphne Greengrass sighed, "I was seventeen, there was a war on, and my boyfriend was a chaser with the Alsace Angels."

"Oh, the French boy," said Professor McGonagall, "I take it you were with him at Beauxbatons."

"After we fled the country in ninety-six, yes," said Daphne Greengrass.

Harry tried to remember Greengrass in sixth year, and realized he hadn't seen her. She'd been in potions and Defence against the Dark arts with him in fifth year – because Slytherin, then he had, he hadn't seen her after OWLs, he realised. Not after that Charms practical.

Daphne Greengrass turned her head slightly to catch his eyes, "Yes Potter, my family all fled to France once I had OWLs, and I did sixth and seventh year at Beauxbatons. There were decidedly less monsters and dark lords, and I had Jean-Claude," she paused, "I met him in fourth year, we danced the Yule ball."

"And divorced him," said Professor McGonagall, "I could make a snide observation about people that marry straight out of school."

Harry glanced away from Al to look at McGonagall, she had a thin smile on her face.

"Jean-Claude liked the whole 'wives and girlfriends' thing," said Daphne Greengrass "Liked having both, in fact."

"Oh I'm sorry," said Professor McGonagall, "And you came back to Britain, in time to look after the boy."

"In time to watch my sister dying, actually," said Daphne Greengrass bitterly. "But at least there was our family law firm to rescue from bankruptcy, so there was that."

"Your father was… not a determined man," said Professor McGonagall. "Very in love with your mother, and they did also marry straight out of Hogwarts."

"Mother said, repeatedly," said Daphne Greengrass, sounding rather irritated.

"How is Erzabet?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Dead, experimental potions accident in ninety-seven," said Daphne Greengrass.

"And your father?" asked McGonagall, croakily.

"Killed in a skirmish with the Order of the Phoenix. He was a very low-level Death Eater because grandfather told him to be one," said Daphne Greengrass, "Grandfather died choking on a peacock bone one Christmas, and I suddenly had a law firm to run."

"Hang on," said Harry, "your family fled to France, and your father became a Death Eater."

"Grandfather called and father came running," said Greengrass, "Mummy was convinced that if she was … let's just say the potion that killed her was a beauty treatment."

Harry swallowed awkwardly. Sheesh. Her family were mental. Well, and all dead.

Madam Pomfrey did, as promised, get around to properly treating the boys, and they would apparently wake in the morning, possibly well enough to leave. Harry's finely tuned sense for Madam Pomfrey's mood told him that was a lie. They'd spend at least a day in bed. But they weren't going to die, and that was the important thing.

Harry checked his watch; the same battered one Mrs Weasley had given him all those years ago. It was nearly two, and he had work starting at eight. He sighed, today was going to be awful.

"Potter?" asked Greengrass "are you going to drag yourself to work today?"

"Um," said Harry, hesitating.

"You could send a letter to the office, and nap here, waiting for your son to wake. Oh, but this is the one you dislike, isn't it?" asked Greengrass pointedly.

Harry gave her a half-hearted glare – how dare his lawyer give him advice, after all, and he proceeeded over to Madam Pomfrey, and basically repoeated what Greengrass had said.

"I can send a medical certificate, if your employer requires one" said Madam Pomfrey. Harry had to stop and think about that, and realised, with some dismay, that Madam Pomfrey was being sarcastic.

But he did take the clipboard and scrawl out a letter to Steven, telling him that Harry had a family emergency, child near death, and would only be reachable by Patronus and in person, at Hogwarts Infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey took the clipboard, nodded minutely at his letter, and left the room; her office floo flared green.

"You staying as well?" asked Harry. Greengrass lifted one eyebrow sarcastically.

"I'm only the mere next of kin" said Greengrass, "And I believe Scorpious's adoptive cousin is on site…"

"You can't" said Harry. "Its… He's Malfoy's boy."

"Well, I will try to rouse Draco later," said Greengrass, and she sounded unconvincing.

"The boy's practically yours. Kip out and see him wake up okay" said Harry.

Greengrass shook her head "Unfortunately, I am self-employed, so I must open the shop."

"You could put up a sign" said Harry.

"At three in the morning, in my nightgown?"

"I.. I could go stick a sign up" said Harry. "Al's not waking in the next hour."

Greengrass went to see Madam Pomfrey, hung about at the door till the floo flared green, and then lingered in her privacy charmed office for some time. A sign, probably transfigured from parchment floated over to Harry, and the fireplace flared green. The sign read 'Closed for family emergency. Please Owl.'

Harry carried the sign back, and Madam Pomfrey was writing in a ledger.

She covered the ledger when he walked into her office.

"Yes?"

"I … I'm going to put Greengrass's sign up" said Harry.

"Going how?"

"I could... floo home, apparate to Diagon, apparate home and floo back?" asked Harry.

"Bring yourself a wash-bag, and you won't get food." Madam Pomfrey paused "Hogwarts is not made of money."

Harry made a mental note to bring a bag, rearranged his cloak, and flooed home.

He landed badly, but the padded cloak helped.

Going to put the sign up was easy enough; Diagon Alley was dead as a grave at half past two. Faint strains of music came from the direction of Knockturn Alley.

Harry used a sticking charm, and apparated directly home. He took a bag he'd used often enough for day trips, and jammed in a towel, his razor, soap, flannel and clean pants and socks. The bare minimum; and he apparated into the kitchen and jammed the hell of bread from the bread bin back into it's paper bag, and looked in the fridge. There wasn't that much cheese left, so that went in with the bread; On the window-sill, the stainless steel tea-thermos Hermione had given them years ago glinted.

Tea included, he flooed back to Hogwarts, and Madam Pomfrey, drinking tea, led him to the bed next to Al, and Harry lay down, dreading a long nigh waiting for Al to wake. Except he fell asleep, to dream of Skele-Grow instead. He woke up as the sun rose. In the bed next to him Al slept, looking fine. But the orb lights hanging from the ceiling brightened as he moved, and Al stopped looking so well; that vein-swelling was still there, if not as black and deadly looking.

Harry nicked off to the Infirmary bathroom before anyone woke up. It was just situational awareness to look over at a sleeping Daphne Greengrass; she'd changed into a sensible warm dress and ribbed Jersey. Asleep, she looked less prickly. Harry felt his step hesitating, and he hastened to the bathroom before he got caught staring at his lawyer in her sleep.