Chapter 10 - A Meal With a Metamorphmagus
May 20, 1998
Ginny and Harry hadn't told anyone about their conversation by the pond. Secrets were rare in the Burrow, where walls seemed to have ears and privacy was a precious commodity. But this—this felt too perfect, too new, to let it loose into the chaos just yet. It was hers and Harry's, and Ginny intended to keep it that way for as long as she could. She had never felt more girly; never felt more lovestruck—actually lovestruck. But she'd also never felt stronger, never felt more in control of her own life, than she had when she woke up the next morning.
The words "He loves me," threatened to burst out of her chest, but the sun had barely risen, and shouting it for the whole house to hear wasn't exactly the subtle announcement she wanted. So she settled for lying in bed, grinning at the ceiling like an idiot, and waiting for Harry to wake up.
Hermione and Ron had been too tired that night for their usual room-swap; she had been fast asleep by the time Ginny and Harry had returned from their trip to the pond, and she assumed the same had been true for Ron. It was a minor disappointment, but for once, she didn't mind. It was fine. Not just Harry-fine, but really, truly fine. Because he loved her.
Merlin, she sounded insane, even (or especially) in her own head. But she didn't care. For the first time in months it felt like there was solid ground beneath her feet. There was a future ahead of her; she knew what she wanted, she knew what she had to do to get it, and she had someone to share that with, someone who thought those things about her were brilliant.
Ginny couldn't stop smiling as the morning went on, her cheeks aching from the grin she couldn't seem to wipe away. Her mother gave her a curious look over breakfast, but Ginny deflected with a mumbled excuse about pleasant dreams. It wasn't a lie, really—her dreams had been pleasant, though they had less to do with surreal imaginings and more to do with the memory of Harry pressed against her and the quiet certainty in his voice when he'd said he loved her.
A few days passed in this unspoken agreement to keep things between them. The secret felt sacred, a little flame they could nurture together without the rest of the world intruding. It wasn't until Demelza showed up, broom in hand, ready for an impromptu Quidditch practice, that Ginny's attention shifted though her heart still thrummed with quiet happiness as she joined her on the pitch.
Demelza tossed her bag down beside Ginny's and gave an exaggerated whistle when she spotted the new broom. "All right, what have we got here?" she demanded, gesturing as though Ginny's Nimbus 2000 were a dangerous creature.
Ginny hesitated, handing over the broom reluctantly. "It's a Nimbus 2000," she mumbled.
"A Nimbus 2000?" Demelza practically shrieked, almost dropping the broom. "And don't tell me you saved up for this with your meager pocket money!"
Ginny flushed. "Harry got it for me. It's—"
"—a bloody expensive gift from your boyfriend," Demelza interrupted, her hands flying to her hips. "Merlin's left nut, Ginny, did he rob Gringotts? Oh, wait…" Her eyes widened in mock realization. "He did break into Gringotts, didn't he?"
"Oh, stop." Ginny glared at her, grabbing the broom and holding it close to her chest. "I didn't ask him for it, all right? He insisted."
"Of course he insisted!" Demelza snorted. "Harry Potter wouldn't know a subtle gesture if it danced naked in front of him holding a banner that said 'Keep it Simple.'" Ginny chuckled and tossed the Quaffle at Demelza, who caught it in one hand and smirked. "Though if you want to try that for his birthday feel free to credit me when you do. Who knows, maybe he'll be so thankful he gets me a broom, too."
"Dee!" Ginny hissed, glancing around hurriedly, her cheeks flushing.
"Fine, fine, I won't ruin your surprise." Demelza shrugged. She leaned in, her expression softening slightly. "Seriously, I know you. Does it bother you? Him buying you something like this?"
Ginny hesitated, clutching the broom tighter. "A little," she admitted. "It's just…he would've got me a Firebolt if I hadn't stopped him. Even then, maybe only because they didn't have any. I don't want him thinking he has to take care of me like that, you know? Like I can't get my own things. Or people giving him shit that I'm only with him because he's Harry Potter."
Demelza nodded sagely, then smirked. "Good thing you're the best flyer I've ever seen, then. If anyone gives you grief, you can hex them from midair and fly circles around them with your fancy new broom."
Ginny couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"And you're stuck with me," Demelza quipped, grabbing her own broom. "But seriously, if he starts buying you Golden Snitches for breakfast, you tell me, all right? We'll stage an intervention."
"He just…He wanted to get me something nice."
Demelza's eyebrows shot up. "Nice? This isn't just nice, Ginny. We're talking 'I feel guilty even touching this' kind of nice, 'declaration of undying love' kind of nice."
Ginny's grin widened.
"What?" Demelza goggled. "Already?"
"What do you mean, 'already?'" Ginny frowned.
"Didn't you just get back together? You were apart all last year," Demelza pointed out. "You told everyone you'd broken it off."
Ginny shrugged. "Not because we wanted to." She began getting on her new gloves and flexing them, trying to get them to soften up before they started practicing. "It's not like we were snogging other people while we were apart."
"Not for their lack of trying," Demelza pointed out.
Ginny snorted. The Hogwarts rumor mill had worked overtime after she had returned last year having broken up with Harry. The Gryffindors had—with a few exceptions—seen through and supported the ruse. But that didn't stop a few determined boys from trying their luck, often under the guise of "helping convince the Carrows" or "throwing off their suspicions."
There were days early on in the term where she'd been looking for ways to be more proactive and support what Harry was doing, when she'd briefly—very briefly—considered it, at least for appearance's sake. But every time she'd given it more than a passing thought the idea had made her sick to her stomach, it felt like a massive betrayal, even if it was just for show.
Ginny finally settled on her answer. "That's because boys are dumb," she said.
"Yours excluded, I presume?"
"Mine isn't a boy," Ginny countered.
May 22, 1998
Harry braced through a sharp turn, rolling his broom to cut his turning radius. He leaned into the handle, slicing through the air as he arced toward the distant tree line. A sharp whistle from below caught his attention, and he glanced down to see Ron cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Head out!" Ron bellowed, gesturing emphatically toward the far end of the paddock.
Harry smirked, banking sharply to the left as Demelza streaked ahead, her movements sharp and fluid. She dove low, the tips of her trainers nearly brushing the grass, before rocketing upward in a tight spiral. Ginny, trailing just behind Harry, tilted her broom forward and surged ahead, intercepting Demelza's trajectory with a smooth, corkscrew roll that made Harry grin.
Ron, restless from days of trailing Hermione during trip preparations, had finally been sent off to join Harry, Ginny, and Demelza on the makeshift Quidditch pitch. Hermione had claimed she needed "just five minutes" of space, though Harry suspected it was more for Ron's sake than hers.
As the drills continued, Harry reacclimated to the feel of the Nimbus 2000. It lacked the explosive kick to its acceleration and pinpoint handling of the Firebolt, but it was still a joy to ride. Ginny, however, took to her new broom like she'd been flying it for years.
Growing up on older, less responsive brooms had honed her flying instincts to razor-sharp precision. Within minutes, she had mastered the Nimbus's quirks: its turning radius, how to account for wind resistance, and subtle adjustments to handle shifts in air pressure. Harry, who had often been praised for his natural talent, found himself in awe of Ginny's skill—hard-won through years of determination and practice.
He waved to Ginny, and they both descended toward Ron. Harry landed with a jolt, still adjusting to the Nimbus's braking, and wiped the sweat from his brow. They'd been running drills all afternoon, and his clothes clung to him uncomfortably.
"Bloody hell, that's a nice broom," Demelza said, dismounting at the edge of the pitch. "We're taking the Cup for sure."
Harry nodded, grinning. "Ginny's been outrunning Slytherins on school brooms for years. This'll be a breeze for her."
Ron took Ginny's broom for her, eyeing it longingly, before propping it over his shoulder and tucking the Quaffle under one arm. "I still don't get how Slytherin wasn't better," he said. "With all the fancy gear they've got…"
Ginny smirked. "Reckon they thought the brooms would do all the work for them."
Ron sighed, looking reluctant to call it a day. "You sure you don't want to practice a bit more? Feels like we're just warming up."
Harry shook his head. "We've got dinner plans with Mrs. Tonks—err, Andi," he corrected, still feeling awkward with the informality. "And we definitely need showers before we go."
"Shower together," Demelza suggested casually, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Demelza!" Ron sputtered, his ears turning red.
"What?" Demelza said with a shrug. "Saves on water and time."
"Not if you're doing it right," Ginny quipped without missing a beat.
"Ginny!" Ron groaned, looking pained. "For Merlin's sake, not while I'm standing right here!"
"Oh sure," Demelza teased, grinning as she swatted Ron on the backside with her broom. "Coming from the bloke who's about to head off on an unsupervised, round-the-world trip with his girlfriend."
"Oi!" Ron yelped, glaring at her, though his flushed face betrayed his embarrassment.
Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "Come on, Ron. You're not exactly the poster child for propriety these days."
Harry chuckled, shouldering his broom as they started toward the house. It was good to see Ron laugh, even if it was at his own expense.
"I think I'm being a great sport about my best mate sneaking down to your room every night for the last two weeks," Ron shot back, his voice dripping with mock indignation.
"What?" Demelza gasped, spinning around to face Ginny with wide eyes. "You didn't tell me that!"
Ginny rolled her eyes, clearly unfazed. "He wouldn't be half as generous about it if Hermione wasn't the one swapping places with Harry."
"That's beside the point," Ron muttered, his ears already turning pink.
"It really isn't," Harry said with a grin, unable to resist teasing.
Demelza's jaw dropped, and she jabbed her broom in Harry's direction. "Wait a minute—so it's true?"
"Not like that," Harry said quickly, though his sheepish smile betrayed him.
Ginny smirked, crossing her arms. "Not that it's any of your business, Dee, but yes. Occasionally."
"Occasionally!" Demelza clutched her chest in mock scandal, looking between the two of them like she'd just discovered some grand conspiracy. "This is the kind of thing you're supposed to share with your best friend, Ginny!"
"I'm sharing now," Ginny said dryly, clearly unbothered.
Ron groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Can we please not make this a group discussion?"
"Aw, come on, Ron," Demelza teased, grinning wickedly. "You brought it up!"
"Big mistake," Harry added under his breath, exchanging an amused glance with Ginny.
Ron let out an exaggerated sigh. "Merlin help me, I need better friends."
"You love us," Ginny said smugly, bumping him with her shoulder.
"Not right now, I don't," Ron grumbled, though his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile.
They walked Demelza to the edge of the Burrow's wards to see her off, but only after Ginny had wrung a promise from her to return within the week to continue their practice. As Demelza disappeared with a wave, Ron headed back inside to check on Hermione, while Harry and Ginny stayed behind to tend to the Quidditch balls and broomsticks with the servicing kit.
There wasn't much to do after only a few flights, but they took their time trimming any errant twigs and polishing the broom handles until they gleamed. Once satisfied, they stowed the brooms in their carrying cases and returned them to the broomshed before heading back to the house.
"My word, you two are filthy," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed lightly when they stopped by the kitchen for a glass of water. She glanced pointedly at their dirt-smeared faces and sweaty clothes. "I hope you're planning to clean up before you go to Mrs. Tonks's."
Ginny waited until Mrs. Weasley had turned back to preparing dinner for the rest of the house. "Yes, Mum," she said with a roll of her eyes.
"Good. Bring those clothes down when you're done and set them with the laundry," Mrs. Weasley instructed. "I don't want them moldering in your rooms."
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said politely, earning an approving nod from her.
"And make sure you dress properly," she added as they turned toward the stairs. "Mrs. Tonks may have been blasted off the Black family tree, but she was still raised with proper manners."
Harry nodded but bit back a retort. Andi hadn't struck him as remotely stuffy during any of their interactions. Sirius had called her his "favorite cousin," and she had raised the fiercely independent Tonks—hardly traits that aligned with the pure-blood elitism of someone like Narcissa Malfoy, sister or not.
Ginny headed for the shower first, leaving Harry to climb to his and Ron's room to find clean, presentable clothes. He was not at all prepared for what he walked in on: Ron, seated on the edge of his bed, holding Hermione tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder.
Harry froze, unsure whether to leave or offer help. He started to step forward, but Ron caught his eye and gave him a subtle, placating look. Harry hesitated, then stopped, lingering awkwardly in the doorway as Hermione's sobs quieted. She pulled back from Ron slightly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper, her face blotchy but determined.
Feeling awkward but unwilling to walk away entirely, Harry lingered in the doorway. Hermione wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper and managed a small, apologetic smile when she noticed him. "Sorry," she mumbled, still sniffling.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked, glancing between her and Ron.
Hermione nodded hesitantly, but her red-rimmed eyes told another story.
Ron gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah," he said. "It's just a lot, you know?"
"I can only imagine," Harry admitted, glancing over the strewn-about room.
Harry stepped inside, taking in the state of the room. Ron's side looked as though a tornado had swept through it. Clothes, books, and random belongings were scattered everywhere. The contrast to Harry's neatly kept area was stark. Years of living with the Dursleys had ingrained in him the habit of keeping his belongings out of sight and in order, but it seemed Hermione's influence was the only reason Ron's chaos hadn't spilled over.
"Yeah sorry, mate," Ron muttered. He looked torn between rushing to clean up and staying with Hermione. "I'd started packing and then Hermione reminded me that it was winter in Australia now so I was packing all the wrong clothes." He ran a hand through his hair. "And I got all out of sorts because we'd just spent all that time and money in Diagon Alley on the wrong stuff."
Harry winced. "We can go back tomorrow—"
"Nah, we're alright. Got it sorted," Ron waved him off. "Apparently Australia isn't quite as cold as it is in England and I'm worrying over nothing."
"And I'm worried that all of this is for nothing," Hermione moaned, her head dropping into her hands. "That we'll go there, spend weeks searching, and after all that time and money find nothing on my parents."
"If it's about the money—" Harry started.
Hermione cut him off. "And I'll have taken Ron away from his family, after everything they've been through—after everything he's been through."
"Harry and I already talked about it, 'Mione," Ron said, rubbing her back soothingly. Harry fought the urge to grin at the sound of the new nickname. "We've got it covered, right?" He glanced at Harry imploringly.
"But they—"
"I'll look after things here, Hermione," Harry said softly. He sat down on Ron's bed on the other side of her.
"Are you sure?" Hermione all but whispered.
"No one I trust more while we're gone," Ron said, pressing his forehead against hers.
"After everything you've sacrificed for me, how could I possibly hold any of this against you?" Harry asked. He reached his arm around her shoulders to grip Ron's tightly. "None of us can move on until we all can, right?"
Hermione nodded mutely. "I just…I don't know where to begin," she whispered, fighting tears. "How to fix it…"
Ron made a strangled sound. Harry glanced over her shoulder at him and saw his best friend fighting back a grimace. "Well…" Ron began, scratching his neck awkwardly. He sighed loudly. "If this were any other problem there's only one place we'd start."
Harry bit his lip to stop from smiling, but failed miserably. "The library," he said.
Ron nodded, but Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Hogwarts is in no shape for—"
"Hermione, we just spent nine months hunting down Horcruxes so we could defeat Voldemort," Ron pointed out, shaking her shoulders gently. "I bet McGonagall would bring the library here if you asked nicely."
Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully, but Harry could already see the gears working. "This isn't any different than what we've done for the past seven years," Harry said. "Just another problem, like Nicholas Flamel, the Chamber, Buckbeak's defense, or any of the thousand things you've found."
"We've got nine days to figure it out," Ron said.
Harry stood and straightened, channeling his best Professor McGonagall. "I want a full three feet on how you plan to reverse the memory charm," he said.
Ron snorted, and even Hermione cracked a smile. "That is a dreadful impression of her, Harry," she said.
"Yeah, please don't tell her I did that," Harry muttered playfully.
Hermione stood suddenly and straightened her clothes, her eyes fierce. "Right. Let's get to it."
"Well, 'Mione, it's a bit late to be going to Hogwarts today," Ron pointed out. He took her hand and pulled her back to sit on his bed. "Mum is expecting us for dinner."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, let's plan everything around your stomach, Ronald," she said, failing to hide her smirk. But she reached up and kissed him fiercely. "Thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his chest.
She turned to Harry next and hugged him next. "You'll take care of them, right?"
Harry patted her back gently. "Of course, Hermione."
"And yourself, too?"
Harry brushed her off. "I'm fine," he said.
She fixed him with a piercing look. "You'll see a healer?"
"For what?" Harry wondered.
Hermione's gaze sharpened. "Harry," she said pointedly. "Ginny and I do talk. I want you to see a healer."
"It's nothing," Harry protested.
She pointed to his chest where Voldemort's final curse had struck him. "That's the second killing curse you've been hit with and it destroyed a piece of Voldemort's soul that was inside you for years."
"I feel fine."
"Harry!"
Harry was about to say "I'm fine" again, but her stare bore into him. "I'll think about it."
Hermione looked as if she were about to argue, but instead she threw her arms up and sighed. "I'm going to tell Ginny. She'll make you see sense." She turned and set off to hers and Ginny's room.
Harry turned to Ron. "Smart idea with the library suggestion," he said. "You really going to help do research?"
Ron shrugged. "Can't exactly back out now, can I?" he asked. He grinned and nudged Harry's ribs. "Besides. I have it on good authority that she's always wanted to snog someone in the library."
Harry stumbled out of the fireplace of the Tonks house, wiping the ash from his clothes as he did. He'd been there once before, during his escape from Privet Drive, but he hadn't spared much thought to the house or its contents. The Tonks house, though modest in size, was rather elegant now that he saw it in the light. The floors were polished wood, warm and inviting, with soft area rugs laid throughout. There was an open, airy feel to the house, accentuated by large windows that allowed the soft golden hue of evening sunlight streamed through the glass.
Harry stepped out of the fireplace to make room for Ginny. The sitting room, where Harry had emerged from the fireplace, was spacious and cozy. A grand piano stood in one corner, flanked by neatly stacked music books. Comfortable armchairs and a plush sofa circled a polished wooden table at the center of the room.
Along the walls were countless family photographs, carefully framed. They showed the Tonks family throughout the years—Andromeda smiling warmly at what must have been Nymphadora as a child, Ted Tonks, before he'd grown his belly, with his arm around his wife, laughing at something just out of sight, dozens of photos of Tonks herself in various silly poses, cartwheeling through the yard, hanging upside-down from a tree branch, leaping into a lake in the summer. One picture caught Harry's attention—a young Tonks chasing after a large black dog.
"Harry, you've made it. Wonderful," Andi greeted, stepping into the room. She had a wand in one hand and Teddy braced against her. "Oh! Was Ginny not able to make it?"
"She should be right behind—"
Before Harry could finish, the green flames of the Floo Network flared to life, and Ginny stepped out gracefully. For the upteenth time that evening Harry was struck. She looked stunning. She had chosen a pale green blouse that complemented her fiery hair. She'd put her hair in a loose braid, with a few strands framing her face in a way that Harry thought was completely unfair to his ability to focus.
Ginny looked a tad nervous, her eyes just a bit wider than usual as she took in the room. Despite the eye-rolling at her mother, she'd clearly been worried about presenting herself well to Andi.
Harry smiled to himself. He knew Ginny would roll her eyes if he told her how perfect she looked, so he settled for a quiet, "You look great." She shot him a grin, but he noticed the faintest blush rising in her cheeks as she pulled her cardigan tighter.
"Ginny, it's so lovely to see you," Andromeda said warmly. She glanced between Harry and what he assumed was the kitchen before adjusting her hold on Teddy. "Harry, would you mind—"
"Oh, of course," Harry said, and took Teddy and cradled him against his chest. He bounced him a little, readjusting to the feel of a child in his arms. "He's gotten bigger," Harry marveled. "It's only been a week."
With her arms now free, Andi was able to greet Harry and Ginny with a gentle hug. "They can grow quickly at this stage," she said, looking at them fondly.
"Is there anything I can help with?" Ginny offered, smoothing out her blouse and brushing the ash from her jeans.
"Would you? That would be wonderful," Andromeda replied. She gestured for Ginny to follow her down the hallway.
Harry cradled Teddy, staring into the boy's pale, grey-blue eyes—so much like Remus's that it made Harry's chest ache. "Hey, kid," he whispered. He bit his lip. What was he supposed to do with a baby this small?
Teddy blinked up at him, his tiny head swaying slightly as he tried to focus. Then, as if responding to Harry's voice, a ripple seemed to shiver through his little body. Harry watched, stunned, as Teddy's eyes flashed a vibrant green and the faint tuft of hair on his head darkened to jet black.
"That is a neat trick," Harry said with a laugh, his grin spreading wide. Adjusting his grip on the baby, he followed the sound of Andromeda and Ginny's voices toward the kitchen.
They passed another small room—a tiny library, or some sort of small home office. It had two large desks back-to-back in the center of the room. The walls were lined with book-filled shelves and even more photographs.
Harry hesitated, curiosity tugging at him. He looked down at Teddy. "Fancy showing me around, kid?"
He made a mental note to tell Hermione about this office, but only after he'd made sure to secure her an invite to dinner. She would've been able to spend hours going through the hundreds of books filling the office. He noticed there didn't seem to be much theme to the books—some on magical theory, some on Muggle literature, others…
"Current Medical Diagnosis and Treatment: 1998," Harry read aloud. He glanced at Teddy. "Spend a lot of time with that one, do you?" Teddy—obviously—didn't answer.
As Harry wandered past the shelves, a photograph stopped him in his tracks. His breath hitched. There, staring back at him, was his father, James Potter. Shirtless and grinning, James stood on a beach, one arm slung around the shoulder of a young Sirius Black, the other wrapped around Lily. Harry's mother held a tiny girl with bright pink hair—probably four or five years old.
Beside Sirius stood Ted Tonks, much younger than the man Harry remembered from when they'd met. He was shorter than Sirius by a head, but probably outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. Though the faint start of a belly softened his middle, his frame was still dominated by well-defined, powerful muscles, reminiscent of a Beater who hadn't completely abandoned the pitch. Shirtless as well, Ted was caught mid-laugh, flexing his muscles in a ridiculously exaggerated pose.
As Ted continued his display of strength, James and Sirius joined in, their wirier physiques adding to the spectacle. Lily and the young Tonks clutched their sides, roaring with laughter at the scene.
Harry's jaw clenched. Tears pricked his eyes, hot and sudden. He hadn't been prepared for this—a glimpse into the life that might have been. The joy, the simplicity, the love captured in that single photograph felt like a punch to the gut.
"Harry?" Andi's voice called out behind him. He spun around to find her and Ginny standing in the entryway to the study.
"We were worried you'd gotten lost," Ginny teased, her eyes sparkling.
Harry grinned at her like an idiot. He just couldn't help himself. "I tried asking Teddy for directions but he wasn't cooperating."
Andi let out a mock gasp. "The son of Remus and Dora Lupin already getting you in trouble?" she said. "By Merlin, I don't believe it."
Harry rubbed his neck bashfully. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snoop."
Andi waved a dismissive hand, stepping into the room. "Snoop away, Harry dear," she said warmly. Her gaze followed his to the photograph he'd been staring at, and a soft smile spread across her face. "Ah, that was a good day."
"I didn't know you knew my parents," he said.
"Well one was hard-pressed to find Sirius without James, especially once he ran away from home," Andi said, her gaze seemed to drift away as she stared at the young Tonks, making faces at the camera. "I didn't know Lily terribly well, I'll admit. But she and Ted got on famously once she started coming around. Always talking about new things in the Muggle world and comparing them to how we do them. And Dora adored her, of course."
"You have a lot of Muggle textbooks here, too," Ginny said, circling the opposite side of the room. Her fingers skimmed the spines of several books. "Are these Muggle healer books? What are they called again?"
"Doctors," Harry supplied, still not taking his eyes from the photograph of his parents.
Andi nodded. "Ted and I are healers. It's what brought us together, actually," she said. She glanced across the room to the desks and Harry noticed the framed diplomas scattered across one of them. "When we left Hogwarts there was a lot of worry about the building war. Everyone was talking about fighting. Auror this, Ministry that. Ted and I knew there were going to be a lot of people hurting. We began our training together while Sirius and your parents were starting at Hogwarts."
"And the Muggle textbooks?" Harry asked.
Andi's smile brightened. "Ted's idea, actually," she said. "He was Muggle-born so he had some experience with Muggle medicine. He thought it might make us more well-rounded healers, or possibly give us some new insights that magical healers lost over the centuries."
She pointed to another photograph nearby. In it, she and Ted stood in formal Muggle attire in front of a large building with the word Montefiore prominently displayed over the entrance. "We found a program—through Professor Slughorn, actually—that set us up with a three-year Muggle physician residency in New York."
"I didn't know you could do that," Harry muttered thoughtfully.
"It was easier twenty years ago," Andi admitted, her smile fading slightly. "At the time, there were still many old pure-blood families supporting pro-Muggle-born legislation. Voldemort targeted them first. And after his fall, pure-bloods like Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy worked tirelessly to roll back those initiatives."
She nodded pointedly to Harry. "Your great-grandfather Henry, in fact, was a staunchly pro-Muggle voice on the Wizengamot. Your grandfather, Fleamont, took great pride in being labeled a blood-traitor. He and Euphemia donated to all sorts of different pro-Muggle charities and scholarship funds despite the target it put on them."
"I didn't know that," Harry said. His chest swelled with pride, but also longing to know more.
"It's why James took the war effort so seriously," Andi said, smiling wistfully. "Imagine all the zeal and stubbornness of the Blacks and Malfoys, but pointed entirely in the opposite direction—dedicated to proving that 'pure-blood' means nothing if you're not a decent person first."
"Sounds a bit like the Weasleys if you ask me," Harry said fondly, smiling at Ginny.
Andi chuckled warmly. "You should ask Arthur about his father, Septimus. I believe he was the one who earned the Weasleys their 'blood traitor' label," she said. "And later, he married my grandfather's cousin, Cedrella Black. She became the first of us to be blasted off the Black Family Tapestry."
Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh," she murmured. Harry hadn't realized that the Weasleys and Blacks were related, however distantly.
Andi patted Ginny's arm reassuringly. "An inspiration to us all," she said with a wink. "Sirius and I took great pride in that legacy."
"You seem to know a lot about all this," Harry said, glancing at the shelves around them. "Family trees and histories and all that."
"Pure-blood families like the Blacks are obsessed with it," Andromeda admitted with a heavy sigh. "Before we even got to Hogwarts, we spent hours memorizing who was and wasn't 'acceptable' to associate with." Her gaze grew distant for a moment before she shook her head, dismissing the memory. "Come, let's sit and have dinner."
Harry followed her and Ginny to the kitchen, Teddy still cradled in his arms. The kitchen was open and modern, with sleek marble countertops and polished cupboards that would have not looked out of place in the Dursleys' home. An array of magical devices were tucked neatly into drawers or sitting on countertops—self-stirring spoons, a set of enchanted knives, and an old-fashioned kettle. A large kitchen table in the center of the room, surrounded by matching chairs.
Harry handed Teddy back to Andromeda, who settled him into a low, chair-like contraption that began to gently sway and rock as soon as he was secured. Teddy's wide eyes followed Harry as he sat down, and Harry wiggled his eyebrows at the boy, earning him the faintest hint of a smile.
"Please, tuck in," Andi said, ladling them a bowl of soup. "I hope you'll forgive me for going a bit overboard. I'll admit, I was rather excited to be hosting again."
"You don't have to worry about that with us Weasleys," Ginny said, helping herself to a crusty roll of bread. "It smells amazing. Did you make this all yourself?"
Andi nodded, clearly pleased with the reaction. "Yes, except for the dessert. Teddy and I picked that up in town this morning." She smiled secretly. "We did a bit of searching for that one, didn't we Teddy?" She waved her wand and two bottles of butterbeer came floating over from the icebox. "I imagine you two are as fond of this as Dora and Remus were."
Harry nodded gratefully and took a spoonful of the soup—creamy leek and potato topped with crispy shallots. "This is fantastic."
"Cooking is quite a bit like Potions," Andi said. "I was a rather dreadful cook until I began thinking of it that way. Then it all clicked into place." She smiled, though there was something sad behind it. "Ted was the better cook, I'll admit. He was always a bit more daring and creative. I've always done better with set instructions."
"Wish I'd thought of it like that," Harry muttered dourly. "I was always rubbish at Potions when Snape was teaching."
"Oh? Did you do much cooking yourself?" Andi asked. Another wave of her wand brought over the main course, a dish of lamb in some sort of sauce with roasted carrots, parsnips, and potatoes.
"Just with my aunt and uncle," Harry said, trying to sound casual. "I did most of their cooking growing up."
Andi gave him a tight-lipped smile, the kind that suggested she understood far more than Harry had said. "Well, from what I've heard through the extended Slug Club, you turned things around quite impressively in your sixth year."
Harry grimaced. "That's… complicated," he admitted, launching into a brief recount of his adventures with the Half-Blood Prince's Potions textbook. By the end, Andromeda's eyes had widened in disbelief, her expression both amused and astonished.
"Well…" Andi searched for the right response. "Sounds like you're a bit more like me in that regard." She and Harry shared a self-deprecating chuckle. "But if either of you ever want help with Potions, feel free to write to me. I do most of my work with magical maladies and diseases, and as you might imagine, there's a fair amount of potioneering involved."
"Wow, that sounds intense," Ginny said, looking at Andi in a whole new light.
Andi smiled. "It can be, but it's also a great deal of research. Trial and error," she explained.
"Do you work at St. Mungo's?" Harry asked.
Andi nodded. "For quite some time I did, yes," she said. "They have an excellent research and training program for Blood Malediction Specialists. I was involved with it for years. About six years ago, though, I transferred to help establish a department for Magical Infectious Diseases at a smaller facility in Leeds. And Ted decided to set up a private practice from his home office, though he retained his admitting privileges at St. Mungo's."
"Was Ted also…in that field?" Harry asked, fumbling to remember the titles and specialties Andi had just mentioned.
"Ted worked as a Spell Damage Specialist, focusing on mental and emotional trauma," Andi said, her voice filled with pride. "He was quite well-published, particularly on the psychological effects of magic, trauma, and memory modification."
This piqued Harry's interest. "Do you have any of his research here?"
"Of course," Andi said with a nod. "Any particular interest?"
Harry quickly recounted Hermione's situation with her parents, and Andi's expression grew thoughtful.
"Yes, of course," she said, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. "Remind me before you leave, and I'll send you home with some of his work. That was a rather complex bit of magic your friend performed. I recall Ted consulting on a similar case—oh, that Lockhart fellow everyone was fawning over a few years back."
Harry grimaced, sharing an awkward glance with Ginny, who hid her grin behind her butterbeer.
"But he'd done such a monstrous job mangling his own memories that there really wasn't much left to work with," Andi continued. "It sounds like Miss Granger was quite a bit more deliberate and—dare I say—restrained."
Harry chewed his lip. "Would be hard to be less restrained."
Andi continued by regaling Harry and Ginny with her memories of Sirius's time at Hogwarts and the fallout from his Sorting into Gryffindor.
"It was maybe two months before I was blasted off the tapestry," Andi recalled, her voice tinged with both amusement and indignation. "The uproar from Walburga and Orion was spectacular. They demanded a meeting with Dumbledore, threatened to involve the Ministry, and even considered withdrawing him from Hogwarts to send him to Durmstrang. Of course, none of that went anywhere once Professor McGonagall got involved."
Harry gave her a questioning look.
"Oh, yes," Andromeda said with a fond smile. "She knows Magical Law inside and out, especially all the tired anti-Muggle rubbish the Blacks were so fond of. She pointed out just how many more opportunities Sirius would have in Britain with a Hogwarts education than a Durmstrang one. She took quite a liking to Sirius after that. Even convinced Orion to sign his Hogsmeade permission form in third year."
She leaned back. "By that time, Ted and I were married, but we would meet Sirius in Hogsmeade when we could. I worried about him, you know. His home life was awful, and I knew how much of a target he was at school, given the Black family reputation."
Her smile softened. "That's when I first met James. Though Remus and…Pettigrew," her expression darkening at the name, "never came along. Perhaps for the best. I don't know how I'd have reacted to Remus and Dora's later involvement if I'd met him while I was pregnant. And Pettigrew…Well, best he remain forgotten."
Harry had to agree.
"After that I don't think I ever saw Sirius without James," she said fondly. "Your grandparents even had Ted and I over several times for the holidays. Then your mother came into the picture and, well…"
Harry frowned, fighting against the tightness in his chest. "I wish I'd known about all this," he muttered. Ginny's hand found his underneath the table.
Andi gave him a sympathetic look. "It was hard for all of us, what happened to your parents. And then the world blamed Sirius," she said. She looked down into her glass and shook her head. "We couldn't believe it. We thought he must have been under the Imperius Curse. But…I knew Sirius too well. No one could force him to do anything he didn't want to do."
Harry nodded. That sounded very much like Sirius. Still, he couldn't help but wish he'd known about Andi and Ted before; people he could have turned to for help when he was still the little boy in the cupboard.
Andi seemed to sense his distress. "We talked, you know, Sirius and I. Dora, too," she began. She took his other hand and he swallowed hard. "They told us what growing up for you was like."
Harry shook his head tightly. "My aunt and uncle were…not good to me," he said.
"It's cruel how they treated you." Andi's voice was sharp. "I wish we had fought harder for you," she admitted, her eyes tearing up. "But we'd never met you—your parents went into hiding almost as soon as you were born. Then…your grandparents had passed, and everything happened that night. We trusted Dumbledore with your safety.
"I swear to you, Harry—if we had known, Ted and I would have taken you from there in a heartbeat. Dumbledore or not." She let out a shuddering breath and sighed. "I know it's quite late—you're a man now—but if you ever need anything. Pictures, stories, anything…" she let the offer hang in the air, the rest of it unspoken.
Harry blinked rapidly, his throat tight. Andromeda's protectiveness felt like something he'd longed for his entire life. He managed a watery smile. "I wouldn't say no to dessert," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Andi laughed, wiping unshed tears from her eyes and nodded. "I've been led to understand you're quite fond of toffee." She brought out a sticky toffee pudding that set Harry's mouth watering.
"Now," she said as she served them generous portions, "I've prattled on enough about my sordid family history. Tell me about yourselves. I've only heard bits from Dora and Remus."
Andi gave him an imploring look, and with Ginny's encouragement, Harry launched into an abbreviated explanation of his school exploits. She listened with rapt fascination, breaking the silence only to whisper soothingly to Teddy when he started fussing.
"Merlin," Andi breathed. "I've heard rumors and stories, of course. But I don't think they do the full account of it justice."
Harry fought the urge to groan. "It all sounds more impressive when you put it together like that," he objected. "But really I just did what I had to in order to survive. I'm not that special."
Andi smiled fondly. "I disagree, Harry," she said. "The rumors make you out to be some sort of mythical figure. The Dumbledore of your generation, maybe even the second coming of Merlin." She shook her head. "But truly, the most impressive part of it all is that you are not those things—no one is, of course, not even Dumbledore and Merlin were. But you were just a boy, a young man who—no credit to the people who raised you—chose to take on this impossible burden and not shrink from it despite all the odds stacked against you."
Harry flushed and looked away in embarrassment.
"That," Andromeda continued gently, "is far more impressive than any mythical equivalency people might try to place on you."
Before Harry could respond, Teddy began fussing more persistently, making it clear that his day was done. Harry and Ginny offered to help Andromeda put him to bed, but she waved off their efforts with a laugh.
"I appreciate the offer, dears, but Teddy and I have this well in hand. Don't we, Teddy?" She tapped the baby on his nose, earning a brief, distracted smile. "I know I might be a grandmother already, but I'm still in my forties. If Dumbledore could duel Voldemort at a hundred and fifteen, I think I can manage little Teddy," she teased. "Besides, I think he's quite taken with you two. He'll fight sleep if you're around."
"We should probably head out, then," Ginny said as she stood. "We don't want to overstay our welcome." Her tone was calm but more reserved than usual, and Harry made a mental note to ask her about it later.
"Not at all," Andromeda said, waving away Ginny's concerns. Then, after a moment's thought, she added, "Actually, if one of you wouldn't mind feeding Teddy, I'll find some of Ted's research for Miss Granger."
Ginny moved faster than Harry by a fraction of a second. "Me!" she exclaimed, scooping Teddy into her arms. "Hello, little wizard," she cooed softly. As soon as Teddy saw her, his hair turned a bright Weasley red before fading back to its usual turquoise when she offered him his bottle.
Harry followed Andromeda to her study, where she spent several minutes rummaging through shelves and stacks of parchment. By the time she was satisfied, Harry was balancing a teetering stack of books and papers nearly a foot tall.
"Let me know if you find anything that might help," she said, placing one final book atop the pile.
"This is incredible," Harry said sincerely, struggling to steady the stack. "Thank you so much, Andi."
Andromeda nodded and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Of course, Harry. That's what family is for," she said warmly. "And Ted would have been thrilled to know his work is still helping people."
Harry smiled tightly, overwhelmed by the kindness and support from someone who had been a stranger to him only hours earlier. "I really appreciate this. All of it," he said, gesturing vaguely around the room. His gaze lingered on the photograph of his parents, Tonks, and Ted at the beach. "It means more than I know how to say."
"Anytime," Andi said insistently. She glanced between him and Ginny—still holding Teddy—with a knowing smile. "If you need anything…"
"Same for you," Harry said with a grin. "I know…none of this is easy right now."
"No, it's not," Andi agreed with a tight nod.
"So if you need someone to talk to—who can actually talk back," Andi laughed, "or need someone to watch Teddy for a bit while you're at work." He looked at Teddy, nestled in Ginny's arms and reaching for her braid. "I just want Teddy to have the childhood I never got the chance to."
Andi's face lit with gratitude. "Of course," she said quickly. "And you're welcome here anytime. Friday dinners are a tradition—Teddy and I would love to have you." Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Ginny. "Just give me a heads-up if you plan to bring any additional Weasleys along so I can prepare accordingly."
Ginny laughed knowingly.
Andi led them back to the fireplace in the sitting room. Ginny gently handed Teddy back to her, whispering a tender goodbye to the baby before turning to Andi. "Thank you for dinner," she said warmly, stepping into the hearth. With a cry of "The Burrow," she disappeared in a rush of green flames.
Harry lingered, his gaze sweeping the room one last time, taking in the reminders of his family's history scattered throughout a place that still felt very much alive. Finally, he turned to Andi. "I'm really glad Teddy has you," he said, offering her a tight-lipped smile.
Andi reached out, cupping the side of his face with her free hand. Her voice was steady, yet filled with fondness. "And I'm very glad Teddy has you too, Harry," she said softly. "I'm very glad I am not alone."
Harry blinked back the sudden sting in his eyes and nodded. With a final look at the baby now dozing contentedly in her arms, he stepped into the fireplace. "The Burrow," he called out, and the room vanished in a swirl of green fire.
Next Time: Chapter 11 - Acronym Revision and Selection Endeavors
Welcome back! I'm trying out the two-week posting cadence for a bit to help get back on track. Had some business trips recently that, fun as they were, killed my writing time and I like having a large backstock of chapters ready to go.
In my head Andi is Michelle Dockery. I've been trying to emulate her Downton Abby character's mannerisms and cadences, so let me know if that does or doesn't come through.
I got some really touching reviews in the last two weeks, and those continue to be incredibly motivating!