Decision Time
Harry had sent an invitation, and both Greengrass sisters in for a consult, and this time he had all the ingredients for the alternative treatment, and a waiver from Hermione, so he wouldn't get arrested.
"You actually got a waiver from the Minister?" said Daphne "In case it effected Tori's magic?"
"Well yours too," said Harry. "You've got vial of your mother's blood?"
"Yes, but won't this take a long time?" asked Astoria.
"Surprisingly it takes about an hour. Which for medical ritual is pretty good. There may be erm. Some visible results of the change, over the course of a week."
"Visible results?" asked Astoria.
"Tori, we'd have a different dad," said Daphne.
"Not completely," said Harry "some of your cells will still be as is."
"Oh. So, visible?"
"From my reading, hair colour changes have occurred, some facial changes, but your skeleton has already grown. It's less dramatic in adults," said Harry.
"It won't change my eye colour, will it?" asked Astoria.
Harry looked at her brown eyes. "It's unlikely," said Harry "The donor's got brown eyes."
Daphne Greengrass inhaled sharply. Harry looked over at her. She looked away.
"Well, yes, it's possible Daphne may experience an eye-colour change. And, may not be blonde afterwards, as it grows out."
Astoria Greengrass snorted. Harry frowned, that seemed rather unsympathetic.
"I like my eye colour," said Daphne Greengrass. Harry sighed "There is always the option of medical transfiguration. It's… quite a straightforward procedure, and I've had good success with using undirected human medical transfiguration on you before."
"About that," said Daphne, glaring at her sister for a moment "How'd you not un-transfigure the rest of me when you um… did that procedure… that was from the injury I had," she said, clearly lying and not good at it either.
"I didn't," said Harry, wishing he was in Hawaii, at a luau. "Your self-image did the rest. I guess… you erm… internalised the historical changes."
And for some reason, that made Daphne Greengrass's neck flush, and her ears.
"Oh," she said, crossing her legs, and jigging her upper leg. Harry realised he really hated body dysmorphia in witches. Poor bloody Greengrass.
"Well I want the potion, not the muggle stuff with the potions every day forever," said Astoria. "Daphne, it's up to you – I know you love your eye colour so very much," she added, somewhat snidely.
"I'll take my chances with the potion and Potter's transfiguration skills if the worst happens," said Daphne. Harry felt that should the worst happen, he could get a consultant in to do it.
"Well, if you two would come to my house after work, I can do the procedure," said Harry.
"No way" said Astoria "Our parents house. It's safer. Greengrass Easthaugh."
"Right," said Harry "Well, I'll see you at about um?" he checked his watch and guestimated. "About nine, could be ten" he said. "I will have ministry supervision."
"That's not very precise."
"I leave when the bursar says, not before," explained Harry.
"Supervision?" asked Daphne.
"The person that signed off on the waiver." said Harry.
Greengrass gaped momentarily.
-=0=-
Harry found Hermione waiting at his house in work robes, with an empty takeaway container. "We're going to Greengrass Easthaugh," said Harry.
Greengrass Easthaugh was posh, was Harry's first impression, coming out of the floo on the wooden floors. Paintings, fabric covered walls, elegant windows… and not really old either. Couldn't have been a day over two hundred.
Daphne Greengrass was sitting in a chair. She looked up.
"You're here. Good, mother and father are out, since we talked them into going to dinner together," she said. Then Hermione stepped out of the fireplace.
Daphne Greengrass blinked and swallowed. "Minister Granger," she said.
"Greengrass," said Hermione.
"Right. Where's Astoria?" asked Harry.
"Resting," said Daphne "Parlour. We'll swing by and… what sort of room do you need? How much space?"
Harry wondered. More than his parlour, unless you moved the furniture.
"Got a big empty room?"
"Ballroom?"
"Should work." said Harry.
"Haven't got one. We're not that rich. I can do conservatory, and move the plants," said Greengrass.
It was actually better, as the floor was tile. Harry helped move cane furniture and there was a dusty photo of Daphne Greengrass and some bloke in his thirties on the bottom level of one of the cane side-tables. He assumed it was husband number two. The Death Eater. Who looked surly to Harry, and the way his arm held Greengrass's shoulder in the photo looked… well Greengrass huffed and shook his arm off after a minute and walked out of the photo. For a moment the Death Eater ex-husband was just left standing there, then he walked out of the photo the other way. Harry felt secretly glad he was dead. Not just, Harry had to admit, for being a Death Eater. Harry remembered the Death Eater he jinxed off his broom as they escaped Little Whinging. It hadn't been the same one. Almost certainly it hadn't been the same one.
Hermione, with help from Daphne, drew chalk circles, positioned sacrificial objects, and made a potion with blood… it was, thought Harry, pretty bloody Dark Arts looking. Hermione was, of course bloody great with the potion. Greengrass watched in obvious amazement. Harry wasn't amazed; he'd seen her make polyjuice, aged thirteen, in an abandoned girls loos. With all the gear, she clearly had plenty of idea.
But an hour later, the Greengrass sisters, sitting in magical circles, both drank the blood-inheritance potion, while Harry chanted. And they grimaced. Harry sympathized. It had blood in it.
And then they bubbled like polyjuice. But didn't scream, so it probably didn't hurt.
Afterwards, Daphne dropped the goblet on the tiles with a clang.
Hermione packed the book up, "Confiscated," she said. Harry nodded.
"That felt awful," said Daphne Greengrass, "but," she wiggled her fingers, and cast a quick charm on herself, "I don't think I'm hurt."
Harry caught her eyes, and tried not to react. Daphne Greengrass with brown eyes just wasn't the same. They were still eyes, and clearly worked, but… her eyes, like her nose, were a part of her appearance that you really noticed.
Astoria on the other hand, had put the cup down and was, oddly, taking off her socks… and counting her toes.
"Are you okay?" asked Harry.
"I'm counting my toes," she replied. Evidently satisfied with ten toes, she put her socks back on.
"Tori, are you okay?" asked Daphne getting out of her circle and going to kneel by her sister.
"Daphne Your EYES!" said Astoria, "Fuck," she added.
"Potter?" asked Daphne Greengrass, without turning. She did not sound pleased.
"They're currently brown. Just take a tick," said Harry.
He didn't expect her to lean over backwards and do a kneeling back-flip-roll thing to roll up and stand beside him. But, she'd been a sort of dancer, he supposed.
"FIX IT!" she said quite loudly. Hermione gulped and clutched the confiscated book firmly to her chest.
Harry took some long slow breaths, and got his focus.
"Close your eyes and concentrate," said Harry. Daphne Greengrass did close her eyes. Harry was struck by the way she had pretty eyelashes. And then got his head into a work frame of mind, and cast an undirected partial human to human transfiguration on her left eye, then her right.
"Should be done," said Harry.
Daphne Greengrass opened her eyes. Harry choked. He'd been expecting grey-blue, like she'd always had. Or maybe brown, if things had gone horribly wrong.
He was not expecting Caribbean-blue eyes that he was fairly sure could cause a heart-attack. His was racing already.
"What?" she said. "Did it work?"
"Um," said Harry managing to not croak by sheer willpower, "Yes, your eyes are blue."
"Are you lying?" she asked, and Harry felt some trepidation. The blue was, well it was striking, is what it was. Actually, it well, it worked for her. She looked, well, like Daphne Greengrass only a bit more so.
"I'm not lying," said Harry, starting to consider that Daphne Greengrass had perhaps always considered her eyes were a striking feature of her face. And she'd been right, well, right-ish, but now, Harry wondered if he could perhaps have a photo to stare at. In a respectful way… though there might be a slight risk of starving to death. She pouted, and Harry felt his throat closing up. That, that look was just bloody unfair. He was fully in control of himself and did not whimper. And technically he'd done that to himself, sort-of.
Okay so maybe a portrait might lead to some beastliness on his part. But god, she was striking now.
She spun away and went back to checking on her sister.
"Um, Daph," said Astoria Greengrass, "Potter um, he fixed your eyes." And she looked past her sister at Harry, and have him a thumbs up. Harry felt that he had until she looked in a mirror.
"Accio hand- mirror!" cast Greengrass. Hermione was watching everything and was looking at Harry like she was surprised. Which hurt – this was his job. Well, not the dark magical rituals, obviously. Though this one was for medical reasons.
He had about thirty more seconds, thought Harry, as Greengrass grabbed the mirror that shot into the room.
Daphne Greengrass stared into the mirror in silence for some time, then pouted, and checked her profile in it.
"You do good work, Potter," she said, throwing the mirror into the air and banishing it away, and returning to fussing over his sister, who mouthed something at Harry, possibly 'wow.'
Harry started cleaning up after the ritual; cleaning charms. Hermione sprang into action, vanishing detritus that had been ritual ingredients, and they got the floor cleaned off sharpish.
He shook both sister's hands; Astoria had a small smile on her face; they both had stringy, dry hands. Or lean, strong hands if you didn't want a good hexing, he supposed. Typical of witches really.
Harry went home, followed by Hermione.
"Harry," she said. "I… you were really good. At that. The healing part," she said. And frowned at him. "Did you do that to her eyes on purpose?"
"It's an undirected transfiguration, her intent and body-image controls it. I guess she always thought of her eyes as striking," said Harry.
"You're… actually good at healing, you know," said Hermione. "I'm… I think this is what you should do, healing people." she said. "Crossover skills with a muggle upbringing, and, well, this sort of thing."
"Will that get me approval to do something like this again if I need to ?" asked Harry.
"On a case by case basis," said Hermione. "Though, god. They had to drink blood. I mean ew."
Harry shrugged. Lots of potions ingredients were far worse, and he wasn't reciting the entire theory of ingredient transformation to Hermione – she'd want references and that was far too much like last year's St Mungo's final exam in potions. Hermione left Harry to his own devices. He'd got an Exceeds Expectations in it, and it was technically post-NEWT potions.
Supper was toast, then two nightmares where those blue eyes bored into his mind and legelimised him, and Daphne Greengrass proceeded to laugh at him for erm… wanting to … well shag her brains out. But if that was the price to save two witches from an early death, well, thought Harry as he woke up sweating, he could cope. And a daydream charm potion put him back to sleep, in Hawaii, with Greengrass in a bikini, and that dream ended very differently and very messily at about six am.
-=0=-
Four days later, a tall blonde witch in her twenties stormed into his consult room, dragging a tall chestnut-haired witch. "Potter, you have to fix this!" said Daphne Greengrass loudly.
Harry honestly thought he'd have gone a week without seeing her. Also, she'd done something with her hair. It wasn't sitting as flat as it had. Presumably the magical brush thing.
Harry waited till the door was shut, and Astoria was sitting on the consult bench, swinging her feet.
"Her eyes, Potter, Her eyes!" said Daphne.
Harry got up and went to see what was wrong with Astoria's eyes. Apart from tons of eyeliner today. Only, her right eye was blue, and her left eye was green. "Um?" said Harry. "Did you try transfiguring them?" he asked.
"I just woke up like this," said Astoria mildly, and with more energy than she'd spoken with a few days ago. "I actually think it's cool."
It certainly was striking, thought Harry.
[AN: Surprise: spot the reference and win complimentary medical obliviation.]
"I can probably fix it," said Harry.
"You must. It's unnatural," said Daphne 'Don't mind my Caribbean-blue eyes' Greengrass.
"I like it, she's just making a fuss. I didn't need to take hardly any girding solution this morning" said Astoria.
"And how has your energy been?" asked Harry.
"Um, weirdly good. Like … I honestly feel better now than when I woke up. Though I do feel a bit restless and itchy."
"Oh, that might be the potion," admitted Greengrass, "It did that to me."
"Thank you Daphne, for that," said Harry, and he got Bing Bing the house-elf to get both Greengrass files, and updated them both. And he was getting close to being able to put a page in that said 'Blood malediction Cured. Healer in charge: H.J. Potter.' and that felt quite exciting.
"Tomorrow, if you feel up to it," said Harry, adding a less exciting, but maybe more medically useful, 'treated with blood adoption ritual,' page to both files. "Don't take the girding solution, take it easy and see how you go."
"But I want to explore the gardens, and fly a broom and … go horse-riding and everything!" said Astoria Greengrass.
"Well, today, walking," said Harry "If you feel the slightest bit like you're having a relapse, get to St Mungo's."
"Should I carry some just in case?" asked Astoria. "I was hoping not to taste it ever again."
"Well it's a prudent precaution," said Harry.
"Potter, HER EYES!" said Daphne.
"It's not bothering you is it, Astoria?" asked Harry.
"Nope," said Astoria, who had inherited her mother's lips.
Harry left the room before he said something really stupid, like 'wow you two are both quite pretty, fancy a double date?'
-=0=-
Harry was enjoying a quiet 'morning' at five pm, preparing for a delightful evening of night shift, when a post-owl dropped off a very thick, official-looking letter.