Chapter 17
Amelia breathed a sigh of relief as the protesters finally dispersed.
It had been the better part of a year since they'd been gathering outside Gringotts to show their displeasure of muggleborns being given favourable interest rates on loans, and now, they'd resumed their activities only in greater numbers.
The flyers had been appearing over the past few weeks, stuck to every surface across the length of every wizarding premises in the country, and the purebloods had come out in force.
They'd been at it for the past week now, and Amelia was growing tired of policing them, something made worse by the vigour in which they protested now.
'BOYCOTT MUDBLOOD BUSINESSES!'
They chanted this loudly and aggressively as they paraded through Diagon Alley, and were it not for the presence of the Aurors, Amelia had no doubt the scenes before her would erupt into violence, especially when the countermarches had begun.
It made the atmosphere very tense, and try as they might, neither she nor Moody had been able to identify who was rallying the purebloods to this cause.
"Madness," Alastor muttered irritably. "It's only going to get uglier."
Amelia nodded and took a few discreet calming breaths.
Jameson had been right that things would get easier with time, but she still had difficult moments when in large crowds.
Her Mind Healer believed she was making excellent progress, but sometimes, Amelia wasn't sure.
There were times when she wanted nothing more than to lock herself away at home and not venture out, and it could often be a struggle to even make it to the office.
"Are you alright, lass?" Moody asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
"I'm fine," Amelia said dismissively.
Alastor frowned, but he didn't comment on her demeanour further.
"Go on, get yourself home," he urged.
Amelia shook her head.
"I need to see Jenny," she reminded him. "Our other cases don't just vanish because of this lot."
"Morons," Alastor grumbled. "Aye, see what Jenny has to say. Maybe this lot will let us get on with our work tomorrow."
"There's a Wizengamot meeting tomorrow," Amelia pointed out. "I'd bet my life it will be quiet tomorrow."
"You still think someone on the Wizengamot is behind this rabble?"
Amelia was convinced one or more people on the Wizengamot were responsible for the protests, but without any proof, little could be done.
Even if they did identify who it was, they wouldn't be held accountable, not unless the demonstrations took a more violent turn.
"Who else could hold so much sway?"
Moody grunted.
"You're probably right," he growled. "Go on, I'll wait here with the others for the streets to clear. Let me know if Jenny gives you anything useful."
Amelia nodded before heading towards the apparation point and was grateful to leave Diagon Alley behind.
She'd seen enough of it to last a lifetime in the past weeks alone.
"Having fun babysitting the cry-babies?" Jenny asked amusedly as Amelia entered the examination room.
"Don't," she sighed tiredly. "It's ridiculous."
"And dangerous," Jenny replied grimly. "It's getting worse out there."
Amelia nodded.
Wizarding Britain was slowly becoming a boiling cauldron, and it was nothing short of a miracle that it had not boiled over on both sides.
"Any news?"
"I have just finished my full report," Jenny answered, handing Amelia a stack of parchment. "You were right, it was an accident that killed her. There were no signs of foul play."
"So, she burnt her own house down?"
"And choked on the fumes," Jenny confirmed. "What we found in the cauldron should never have been mixed, and there was no sign of anyone else being at the property, according to the Magical Disasters team. The force of the explosion knocked her unconscious, and she suffocated."
"That doesn't make me feel any better," Amelia muttered.
"It's better than thinking there's another killer at large out there," Jenny pointed out.
"It is," Amelia agreed. "I would like to know what she was trying to brew."
"We'll never know," Jenny sighed. "Maybe she thought she'd discovered a way that the volatile ingredients could co-exist with one another."
"Maybe," Amelia sighed. "Anyway, thanks for this. I'm done for the day."
"You're not seeing Jameson today?"
Amelia shook her head.
"I've not seen him much the past couple of months," she revealed. "It's exams at Hogwarts, so he's been busy, and work has been manic."
It was true.
Amelia hadn't had much time off, and Jameson had been holding additional lessons for those sitting their OWLs and NEWTS. They'd had dinner once or twice with Edgar and Eliza and even at Jameson's home.
Other than that, they'd not spent any time together.
Amelia got the impression he was distancing himself again, but he assured her he wasn't.
She didn't know what to think.
He was a strange man to have a friendship with. The times he was unguarded were rare indeed, though he seemed to be relaxed around her. Amelia struggled to make sense of him.
Maybe that was just a part of who he was.
He remained rather aloof and elusive.
"Well, the school year will be coming to an end soon," Jenny offered.
Amelia shrugged.
"Jameson is Jameson," she replied.
"So, nothing has happened between the two of you?"
Amelia shook her head.
"No," she denied firmly. "We are just friends."
"That's it?"
"That's it," Amelia reiterated.
Jenny quirked an eyebrow at her, but before she could comment further, Amelia bid a hasty retreat.
She didn't want to discuss or justify her friendship with Jameson with anyone else, especially when she didn't understand it herself.
Amelia would be the first to admit that it was a strange friendship, but given Jameson's demeanour, she didn't know what else to expect. It wasn't like he'd ever been any different with her.
With a shake of her head, she apparated home, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the small amount of time she had to herself before she'd be back in the office bright and early the next morning.
She only hoped her prediction was right and that the protesters would give it a rest and she and Alastor could catch up on the backlog of work that awaited them.
(Break)
"Just the Defence Against the Dark Arts exams left for tomorrow," Minerva sighed tiredly.
"Do you think your students have done well?" Albus asked.
Minerva frowned as she nodded.
"For the most part," she replied thoughtfully. "There are those who I do not doubt, and then there are others…"
She broke off, knowing she did not need to name any of the students who were unlikely to receive a grade they would be pleased with.
Albus expected that much of the coming summer would be spent explaining to some unhappy parents why their children had not done as well as they anticipated.
Appeals would be made, and Griselda would be as ardent in her grading as ever. She would offer the opportunity to re-sit the exams, and maybe there would be improvements, but Albus was not hopeful.
Some of the students were under the impression that they could focus for the final month before their OWLs and NEWTs, and it would be enough to achieve something of substance.
It would be a harsh lesson for them and one he hoped they learned from.
"How do you think the Defence exams will go?" Minerva asked curiously.
"Well, if Harry has given accurate grades throughout the year, I expect a significant improvement," Albus answered. "I find it a shame that we are losing him."
Minerva nodded her agreement.
"He's done well considering this is his first year," she praised. "He keeps the students in line, and he is quite the teacher. Any thoughts on who is to replace him?"
Albus shook his head.
"I have received three applications, and none of them have the credentials I'd like."
"So, it will be another lacklustre instructor next year," Minerva sighed.
"I am hoping to find a more suitable replacement," Albus assured his deputy as she stood. "The search continues."
Minerva nodded as she took her leave from the office, and Albus turned his attention to the three applications he'd received.
In short, they were rather abysmal, and none of them were of a standard that was right for Hogwarts.
The headmaster released a deep sigh as he placed the pieces of parchment on his desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly before shifting his attention to the fireplace.
"Are you free for a drink, Albus?"
"Come through, Alastor," Albus replied with a smile.
It had been a number of weeks since the man had graced him with his presence, and Albus could use a reprieve from pondering what he would do about the open Defence Against the Dark Arts position.
"Here, I expect you could use a drop of this as much as me," Alastor chuckled as he entered the office, holding a bottle of mulled mead aloft.
"You wouldn't be wrong," Albus chuckled as he conjured a couple of goblets.
Alastor poured them both a generous measure and groaned as he sunk into his chair.
"To easier days," he toasted.
"Are the protests still happening?" Albus asked.
"Aye," Moody grumbled irritably. "It's getting worse and will probably become violent if something isn't done."
"Senseless violence," Albus sighed. "Are memories so short that they do not remember the war?"
"Do you think any of them fought in it?" Moody snorted. "No, it wasn't the rich bastards who got off their arses to fight him, other than a few of them. The rest stayed home and complained they couldn't get certain foods into the country."
Albus frowned but couldn't counter the point.
Most of the purebloods stayed home, and some had even supported Gellert.
Of course, when the war was over, some charitable donations and words in the right ear were enough to forget the part they played.
"What about you, why are you looking so stressed? Are the students doing so badly on their exams?"
"On the contrary, I am expecting improvement overall."
"Then why do you look as though you've aged ten years in the last few weeks?"
Albus deflated as he shook his head and picked up the application he'd been perusing.
"It seems that I am going to spend my summer finding a replacement for Harry," he explained.
"Jameson is leaving?" Moody asked with a frown.
He was as taken aback as Albus had been when Harry revealed his plans to him at the beginning of the year.
Albus nodded.
"I understand his reasoning, but I had truly hoped he would retain his position. He is an excellent teacher."
Alastor's frown deepened.
"Bones hasn't mentioned anything to me," he murmured. "Why is he leaving?"
"I cannot say exactly, but it seems he will be spending the foreseeable future abroad and will be exceedingly busy whilst he is away."
"But he is coming back?"
"That is the impression I'm under, but I cannot say when."
Alastor hummed.
"No, Bones would've mentioned it to me if she knew," he mused aloud. "Her and Jameson are friends, so I can't see how she doesn't know. Unless he hasn't told her."
"That is possible," Albus acknowledged. "He is not an easy person to get to know. He is very private about his personal life and affairs. He has worked here for this year, and I feel like I have barely scratched the surface on just who Harry Jameson is."
"Aye, I know how you feel," Alastor chuckled. "He doesn't say much, but we know what he is capable of, well, to an extent."
"Indeed," Albus returned, taking a sip of his mead. "He is quite the mystery, but he has given me no reason to doubt his character."
"Nor me, Albus," Alastor agreed. "I'll ask Bones what she knows."
If there was anyone else to whom Harry had confided his intentions, it would be Amelia Bones. The two were quite close, after all.
"Are they…?"
Alastor began to chuckle as he shook his head.
"She says no, and I don't think she is lying," he said amusedly, "but I've seen them together more than once. I'm no bleeding romantic, but even I can see there's something between them. They're either stupid, pig-headed, or stubborn. I'm guessing it is all three."
"Ah, the bliss of ignorance," Albus mused. "Perhaps one day they will acknowledge it."
That's not likely to happen now, is it?" Alastor pointed out. "With Jameson leaving…well, that will be that I suppose."
Albus nodded.
Perhaps they were reading more into it than what was there, but having spent many years around teenagers, he liked to think he had become rather adept at noticing these things, even if those he suspected of harbouring such feelings for one another were woefully ignorant.
Only time would tell, but Albus could not deny that Alastor was right.
With Harry leaving, it seemed to be unlikely that there would be anything between his professor and the Auror, for now, at the very least.
(Break)
He offered Matthew McKinnon, one of his seventh-year students, a discreet nod.
The young man had performed admirably during his practical assessment, and Harry was pleased to know he'd done well. McKinnon had dedicated himself this year, and he deserved the praise.
He'd all but broken down a few days prior from nerves, one of many students to do so over the past weeks, but he needn't have.
Harry expected nothing less from him.
"Weasley, what are you doing out here?"
The third-year redhead's eyes widened as he caught sight of the approaching Harry.
"Nothing, Professor," he denied.
He looked guilty, and Harry merely smiled as he shook his head.
"At least wait until I am back in my classroom before you do whatever it is you're doing," he urged. "I'm tired of writing detention slips for you. I'm sure the bones in my wrist will never fully recover."
The young Arthur laughed as he offered a salute reminiscent of the twins Harry remembered so fondly.
There had never been any doubt where Fred and George had inherited their mischievousness from, but he'd never expected Arthur to be quite as bad as them.
Harry had lost count of how many detentions he'd given Arthur since September. Even if he'd enjoyed his pranks, he couldn't be seen not to act to prevent them or punish the boy.
Nonetheless, he would miss the exploits and the back and forth between himself and the future patriarch of the Weasley family.
Shaking his head, he closed the classroom door behind him and made his way to his office. Unlocking it with a tap of his wand, he entered to be swarmed by the enormous snake waiting for him.
"How are you, girl?" he asked the occamy softly.
"Better," she hissed.
It had taken the better part of three months for her to begin speaking to him, and even now, she only did so in single-word answers.
Their relationship was a work in progress, but it was progressing.
Her name was Zelda, and her mate, Zeus, had been hatched in the same shop in South America where they'd been purchased by a gentleman who hadn't understood what he was letting himself in for.
Knowing he couldn't give them the care they needed, he'd reached out to Mr Levitt to give them a home.
Zeus had gotten sick a few years later and had died, leaving Zelda alone and distraught.
Harry knew she missed him still, but she did not want another mate.
"Would you like some food today?"
"No."
He petted her head gently and released a deep breath.
Zelda barely ate half of what a serpent her size should be eating, and it was worrying.
"Sorry."
"We will get there, girl," Harry assured her. "We have all the time in the world."
It was awful to see her so down, but she had her moments that gave him enough belief that she would eventually be okay. It would indeed take some time, but Harry remained hopeful he could keep helping her.
He could already see the difference in her from when he'd taken her from Levitt, and though each day was a challenge trying to get her to open up, Zelda was getting better.
There was no sign of her wings returning, but that didn't matter.
Harry just wanted her to be happy and healthy. Everything else would come when she was.
"Well, you might not be hungry, but I am," he chuckled. "Would you like to go home?"
"Yes."
With a nod, he took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.
With the OWLs and NEWTS finally over, he would only be at Hogwarts for another week or so before he would have to make his way to Canada.
Between teaching, preparing for exams, administering exams for the other years, marking work, and planning for his arrival on the farm, Harry had little time for much else.
The Thestrals and Hippogriffs had arrived a few days after he'd visited Levitt, and for the most part, they were self-sufficient.
The former required fresh blood each day, and the Hippogriffs needed to be supplied with their own food, but Harry's two house elves took care of that, along with maintaining his home and grounds.
He'd quickly realised he needed assistance shortly after the herds had arrived and had enquired with the Ministry of Magic about obtaining elves.
A month later, he'd welcomed Bart and Helga into his home and had not regretted it for a moment.
For house elves, they were young but keen.
They were a brother and sister duo, twins, who had been intended for another family.
The family had need of only one elf, and Bart and Helga were inseparable, so Harry had agreed to take them on as his own.
"Harry Jameson, sir!" Helga greeted him as he arrived home. "Dinner will be ready in just a moment."
"Did you burn the first attempt again?" Harry asked amusedly.
"Helga did, sir," the elf answered shyly. "Should Helga be punishing herself now?"
Harry shook his head firmly.
"Absolutely not."
Helga smiled brightly.
The elves had been trained, but they were inexperienced and often made small mistakes.
Harry didn't mind.
The duo brought him no end of entertainment.
"Will Zelda be eating today, sir?"
"Not today," Harry sighed.
"She should be eating, sir."
"I know, but she's not very hungry."
Helga shot the snake a look of sadness.
"Please take your seat, sir," she urged. "Helga will bring your dinner."
Harry nodded and did so, placing Zelda on the seat next to him.
"Where is Bart?" he asked curiously.
"He is resting, sir," Helga answered.
"Did the little ones chase him again?"
Helga fought the urge to grin as she nodded and brought Harry a plate of beef, potatoes, and vegetables.
"They did, sir, and almost bit him on the bottom."
Harry snorted.
Bart loved the creatures, even the smaller Hippogriffs that tried to play with him. It had become something of a spectator sport to watch the elf feeding them and fleeing as he was chased away by the trio of young Hippogriffs.
"He wasn't injured?"
"No, sir."
"I don't see why he doesn't just disappear away from them," Harry mused.
"Bart likes running, sir," Helga explained. "He knows the babies won't hurt him."
"They'd still give him a nasty nip."
Helga nodded.
"Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No, thank you, Helga," Harry offered appreciatively.
If Hermione were here to see him now, she would probably be furious that he'd taken on the elves.
Not that such a thing mattered anymore.
Harry sighed as he looked towards the calendar.
It was coming close to a year since he'd arrived here, though it felt much longer with everything he'd achieved.
He'd somewhat managed to build a life for himself, even if it was a rather disjointed one.
Still, he still held onto the hope that he could live in peace.
When the farm was up and running in Canada, and the werewolves knew how to keep it so without his input, perhaps then he'd be able to enjoy the fruits of his labour.
Unless something else was to come along and derail his plans.
Harry hoped not, but he couldn't help but think it was inevitable.
Despite his best efforts throughout his life, something always emerged and caused him great upheaval.
Finishing his meal, he decided he would take a turn around the grounds.
The creatures were still wary of him, but they no longer fled when he approached, and the male lead of the Hippogriffs didn't charge at him anymore.
Harry had named him Albert.
There was no real reason behind the decision other than that it suited the large grey and black beast.
Buckbeak had seemed to be big, but Albert was taller and muscular than he'd grown to be.
Harry wondered if being cooped up with Sirius had stunted his growth or if it was just that Albert was enormous.
He was certainly much bigger than the other males in the herd and viciously protective of his charges.
Although he no longer charged Harry as he had when they'd first arrived, he watched him closely and had given no indication he was ready to bow to him.
It was another work in progress along with Zelda, who he kept close.
She spent their time at Hogwarts in his office, and at night, she had a room to herself in the house which had been warmed to the optimum temperature for her.
It had taken some time for her to settle in, but Harry had been persistent with her after he'd woken up with her sleeping on his chest.
As much as he wished to help her, it was a dangerous game sharing a bed with any serpent, let alone one of her size and weight.
He didn't believe she would, but if she decided to eat him, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.
"Having fun, Bart?" he asked as he came upon the male elf feeding the younger Thestrals.
"Yes, sir," Bart answered with a grin. "I like the babies, sir."
"Well, they certainly like you," Harry chuckled. "Don't keep them up too late. You need your rest as much as they do."
Bart nodded and resumed feeding them, whistling a gentle tune as he did so.
Spotting Albert in the distance, becoming restless by his presence, Harry decided to turn in for the night.
The exam period was as tiring for the Professors as it was for the students, and Harry was grateful that it was finally over.
It had been three months of additional lessons, emotional breakdowns, and successes and failures, but it was over now, and soon enough, he'd be able to shift his focus onto the other things occupying his mind.
(Break)
"GET BACK, YOU STUPID BASTARD!" Alastor roared, shoving one of the protesters away as he attempted to storm the apothecary.
Any hope they'd harboured for a quieter day had all but evaporated when they arrived in Diagon Alley to be greeted by a bigger protest than any they'd witnessed thus far.
Hundreds of witches and wizards filled the streets, and some had chosen to take a less peaceful route to ensure their voices were heard.
"I WON'T TELL YOU AGAIN!" Moody warned for a final time, shoving the same determined man back into the throngs of people.
"This is madness," Amelia huffed.
"Aye, it is," Alastor growled irritably. "So much for them taking a day off."
"This was done intentionally," Amelia mused aloud. "If this chaos is taking place whilst the Wizengamot is going on…"
She broke off, not entirely sure what whoever had organised this intended, but there was no denying this protest was by far the worst.
"That's it, I've had enough of this sod, come here!"
Alastor snatched the troublemaker from the crowd, and the man professed his innocence, only to find himself stunned and bound.
"Tosser," Alastor grumbled. "Right, who else wants to join him?"
Amelia watched as he waded into the crowd, looking for more troublemakers.
As much as he wouldn't admit it, Moody was in his element when he was in the thick of the action, and as she watched him continue to weed out those who were encouraging the violence, she was glad for having people like him on their side.
With a sigh, she threw herself into the mix, quickly subduing two men who had shifted their attention to a café owned by a muggleborn couple.
They'd been attempting to set fire to a pile of dung of sorts they'd brought along with them at the front door.
With the two men arrested, she dragged them towards where Moody was quickly accumulating quite the haul for himself and made another pass of the large crowd, making a further four arrests.
"They'll be busy in custody today," Alastor chuckled. "Half of these idiots will be taken to Azkaban until they can be processed. That'll put the shitters up them."
Amelia nodded.
She often visited the island prison on escort duty and was grateful she was only there for an hour or so at a time.
The misery of Azkaban lingered around you for at least a day after an excursion there, and it was something none looked forward to.
Still, after what seemed to be hours, the crowd seemed to calm, and Amelia felt a sense of relief wash over her as she and Alastor were given leave to end their shift.
"Same again tomorrow?" Moody chuckled.
"I hope not," Amelia grumbled.
"Aye, me too," Alastor sighed. "No offence, but your generation of purebloods are a bunch of whiny shits."
Amelia couldn't disagree.
The generation before hers had experienced and fought against Grindelwald's uprising on the continent, and her own were seemingly upset by granting fairer treatment to muggleborns, who wanted only a fair chance to succeed in magical society.
"It's because of Leach," Alastor snorted. "If he hadn't pushed his agenda so hard when he got into office, this wouldn't be happening."
"And Dumbledore," Amelia pointed out. "I know he's your friend, Alastor, but he's been very supportive of Leach."
"Aye," Alastor acknowledged. "I know they mean well, but they're trying to do too much too soon. Anyway, let's get back and get the paperwork done, or we'll be at it all night."
Amelia nodded her agreement.
Between them, they'd arrested a couple of dozen protesters, and that alone would take a few hours of extra work.
Apparating away, they navigated the busy atrium of the Ministry and entered the lift to take them back to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which was unsurprisingly chaotic.
"Bring your papers to me when you're done," Moody instructed. "I'll file them with mine."
"Thanks, Alastor," Amelia sighed as she entered her office and set to work on the mountain of administration that came with the job.
It was dull and tedious work, but having filled out countless of the forms over the years of being here, it took her less time than it would have at the beginning of her career.
When she had finished and read through each one to ensure she'd not missed anything, Amelia signed each with a flourish and gave it an official stamp.
"Done?" she asked Alastor when she arrived at his office.
"Aye, just about," he grumbled irritably. "What a bloody day," he added, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"So much for them not coming out," Amelia huffed.
"Aye, but it's like you said, it was done purposely. This isn't some small group of annoyed, bored kids; this is being orchestrated by someone who wants the chaos."
"Who?" Amelia asked.
"That's the question, isn't it? Who would want to cause civil unrest, and for what purpose?"
Amelia frowned thoughtfully.
"Well, unless any of this lot say something, which they bloody well won't when the families get wind of them being arrested and send their solicitors, we won't find out," Alastor grumbled. "Anyway, get yourself home, lass. You did well today."
Amelia nodded, but paused in her bid to leave the room as Alastor spoke once more.
"Did you know Jameson is leaving?"
"Leaving?"
"Ah, so you didn't," Moody said guiltily. "Well, I suppose it's not my place to say. I'd best let him explain himself."
"He told you he's leaving?"
"Not Jameson, no, but Albus did."
Amelia frowned as she left the office.
Why would Jameson be leaving?
It didn't make any sense to her unless Alastor only meant he was leaving Hogwarts, but that didn't make sense either.
He enjoyed teaching, so why would he?
Amelia couldn't fathom it, and knowing it would be playing on her mind until she learned the truth of the matter, she apparated home with the intention of bringing it up with Jameson shortly.
(Break)
"I would like to take the opportunity to congratulate you all on finishing your OWLs, NEWTs, and end-of-year exams," Albus offered, instigating a round of applause across the Great Hall. "I understand it has been a trying time, but now, you can breathe a sigh of relief that it is over. The Professors and I are very proud of how you have conducted yourselves."
The students clapped once more, and with the exams completed for the year, they were free to enjoy the final week of school without the stress of revision.
"Finally, I must announce that Professor Jameson, who I'm sure you will agree has been an excellent instructor, will be leaving us at the end of the school year," Albus announced.
There was a collective groan of disappointment from the students, and Dumbledore held his hands up to silence them.
"Your response echoes my own thoughts," he said sincerely, "but Professor Jameson has a new venture he is to undertake, and I am sure you will join me in wishing him the very best in his endeavours."
The mood had shifted from one of joy at finishing their exams to one rather maudlin.
Harry had not expected such a reaction, and he couldn't say he enjoyed seeing the disappointed expressions of the students staring back at him.
"You've made quite the impression on them," Minerva commented. "It's a shame you're not staying. I must say, it's been rather nice not having to deal with Weasley all year," she added with a smirk.
"No, you left that to me," Harry sighed. "Don't worry, Minerva, he's all yours again come September. I understand he is going to be buying quite a stash of dungbombs. I'm sure he wouldn't let them off around the castle."
Minerva's expression morphed into one of horror, and as Harry took his leave of the hall, he made a point of stopping by the Gryffindor table.
"Be on your best behaviour, Weasley," he murmured.
"Always, Professor," Arthur returned with a grin. "Are you really leaving?"
Harry nodded.
"I am, but you never know, I might be back sooner than you think."
"I'd better forget my idea of giving you a leaving present then."
"I would," Harry urged. "You wouldn't want there to be a lingering grudge, would you?"
"A grudge, Professor? With you around, I've not had much success with my antics. I know when to bow out in defeat. Good luck, Professor," Arthur said, offering his hand.
Harry accepted the proffered limb and jumped at the light shock that reverberated up his arm.
Arthur grinned as he showed a round piece of plastic he was holding.
"My magical pranks weren't getting very far, Professor, so I took the muggle route. They're quite innovative."
He looked suddenly nervous as a glare was levelled at him but relaxed when Harry laughed.
"Not bad, Weasley," he praised, "but what makes you think you got away with it?"
Taking his leave of the Great Hall, Harry chuckled to himself as Arthur screamed, bemoaning the thick and coarse hair growing on his hand.
"Little shit," he said fondly as he made his way towards his office.
He would miss Hogwarts, and even most of the students, some of whom he'd known as adults with children during his own time. It had been a strange experience seeing them as they were now, but a refreshing one, nonetheless.
Still, his journey here wasn't quite over.
With a week left of the school year, he would be back in the morning.
"How are you, Zelda?" he asked the occamy as he entered his office.
"Better now," she whispered.
"Two words?" Harry asked. "I am lucky."
With the snake situated around his shoulders, he stepped into the fireplace and out into his home to be greeted by the sight of both Bart and Helga waiting for him.
"Master Harry, sir," they said in unison.
"How long have you been waiting for me?"
"Not long, sir," Bart answered. "We could feel you coming."
Harry offered the duo a smile.
He could feel his bond with them deepening with each passing day.
"Well, I can see that the house is in one piece," he commented amusedly. "I'll take that as a good thing."
"Yes, sir," they replied.
"You did have a visitor, sir. Miss Amelia wishes to speak with you."
"Is she here?"
"No, sir, but she asked you to tell her when you're home."
Harry nodded.
"Thank you, Helga," he said gratefully. "Come on, Zelda. We'll let you rest in your room."
"Okay."
She had eaten breakfast, so she wouldn't need feeding again for another few days.
When Zelda was settled, he sent a patronus to Amelia.
They'd not seen much of each other over the past few months. Harry had been busy with the many things that required his attention, but he always made sure to check in with her.
Perhaps she'd had a bad day.
He knew she was still struggling with what had happened, but Amelia was definitely getting better, as he'd told her she would in time.
It was only a few moments later that the floo in the entrance hall chimed, and he was greeted by the sight of the woman stepping out of the fireplace.
She didn't look happy, and as she removed the ash from the hem of her robes, she released a deep breath.
"Hard day?" Harry asked.
"Something like that," Amelia replied. "Why didn't you tell me you are leaving?"
"Bloody hell, that got out fast," Harry snorted. "Dumbledore only just told the students."
"Alastor told me," Amelia explained. "Why are you going? Where are you going?"
It was Harry's turn to release a deep breath.
"Canada," he answered.
"Canada?"
Harry nodded.
"The werewolves."
Amelia frowned confusedly.
"Greyback's pack."
"The very same," Harry sighed. "After what happened in the forest, I took them to Canada to get them away from any possible reprisals or on the off chance that Greyback would escape justice. I'm going to be starting up a farm over there, growing crops and magical plants for them to work. For there to be any chance of success, they need a lot of help with it and to be educated in Herbology."
Amelia nodded uncertainly and offered him a sad smile.
"You're giving them a chance to earn a living."
"Exactly," Harry sighed. "I was going to tell you, but with everything that's happened, it just never came up."
Amelia nodded once more.
"How long are you going to be gone?"
Harry shrugged.
"I'd say at least a year, maybe longer. Everything has to be built up from scratch."
"I see," Amelia replied.
"Don't tell me you're actually going to miss me," Harry chuckled.
"Maybe a little," Amelia replied, turning away from him. "You have a way of growing on people, you know?"
"Like a wart?"
"Like a wart I've gotten used to."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Harry snorted. "I was hoping you'd check in on this place from time to time. I'll be taking Zelda with me, but the elves will be here, and the Thestrals and Hippogriffs. I'll even leave my favourite pyjamas for you."
"So, now you want me to house-sit for you?"
"Think of it as somewhere to escape to if you need to," Harry suggested. "I won't be gone forever and will be back annoying you before you know it."
Amelia nodded and offered him something that resembled a smile.
"You're really coming back?"
"I am," Harry assured her.
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him.
"Fine, I'll check in every once in a while," she agreed. "When are you leaving?"
"Two weeks from today."
"So, you have time to have dinner with us before you go," Amelia replied. "And then with me without anyone else being there."
"I'm sure I can squeeze that in."
Amelia hummed.
"You'd better, Jameson, and you'd better not be lying to me about coming back. I'm an Auror, you know, and I will find you."
"The remaining years of my life would be spent in perpetual fear at the thought of you stalking me from the shadows, Auror Bones."
"Years? It wouldn't take me so long to track you down," Amelia warned.
"I will remember that."
"You'd better, Jameson," Amelia sighed as she wrapped him in a tentative embrace. "You'd better."