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SIYE Time:0:38 on 29th March 2024
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Rebuilding Life
By Kezzabear

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: General, Humor, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1776
Summary: Harry has defeated Voldemort but is going back to his life going to be easy? What will he go back to, the life he once had is meaningless now. It's time to build a new one and to create a new post-Voldemort world. Ginny is there waiting for him, what do they need to do to rebuild their lives?
Hitcount: Story Total: 579792; Chapter Total: 13207
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
goingbacktosquareone is the world's best beta. She turned this around in less than 24 hours. And ... everybody WINS! Read and enjoy!




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Ron was entirely unconvinced when Harry and Hermione shared their findings about the Gryffindor room and the amulet on his next visit. Ginny had somehow talked several members of the Slytherin Quidditch team into helping her practice and Harry had refused to leave the stands while she was on the pitch with them. Ron was scowling, huddled in his cloak, as he watched his sister and argued with Harry.

“It’s a load of rot about true Gryffindors,” he said. “For a start, how does when you’re born make you better-”

“I didn’t say better, Ron,” Harry sighed heavily.

“It just means certain enchantments are … available,” Hermione said.

“So what?” Ron said defiantly. “I used that ruddy sword and I wasn’t born in July.”

“It’s not about using it, Ron,” Harry tried to explain again. “It’s about pulling it out of the Hat.”

“I pulled it out of a pond,” Ron argued back. “A bloody freezing pond I might add.”

“Yeah and Snape put it in there,” Harry said. “I don’t think you even have to be a Gryffindor to touch it or use it. I’m just saying — it fits. Why else is it me and Neville?”

“But if you think people who weren’t born in July aren’t Gryffindors-”

“That’s not what I think!” Harry almost shouted the words.

“I suspect it’s an archaic form of use,” Hermione said pensively. “The word true also means straight, for example, in some contexts.”

“Oh, so I’m bent now am I?” Ron asked.

“I think you’re taking this too personally,” Harry muttered, turning to look at the pitch as Ginny rolled out of the way of a Bludger.

“I think you should stop worrying about the bloody meaning of the word true and start figuring out who wants you dead,” Ron muttered belligerently.

“Ron-”

“Don’t bloody deny it again!” Ron said. “First the Quintaped and now thugs sent to get you. George told me what they said, even if you’re not willing to. He’s worried, Harry. He’s getting very tense and keeps asking if I’ve heard from you and asking Mum how you’re doing. He went down to the Ministry the other day and sat outside Kingsley’s office - wouldn’t leave until Kingsley spoke to him.”

“Why?” Harry wondered aloud. “It doesn’t sound like George …”

“It’s bloody annoying,” Ron grumbled.

“Your brother is concerned about Harry and all you can do is call him annoying!” Hermione said indignantly. “I think its sweet he cares.”

“Well you wouldn’t think he was so sweet if you knew he just laughed at me the other day when Percy startled me and I got my foot stuck in a cauldron,” Ron grumbled. Harry snickered.

“Honestly Ron,” Hermione said, hiding a smile, “that would have been quite funny, but Harry’s actually in real danger. George is right to be concerned.”

“Gee, thanks Hermione, now I feel loads better.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well, it is time you admitted it,” Hermione replied loftily. “I’ve tried to talk to you about it but …”

“He probably distracted you,” Ron scowled, “like he does to everyone. Kingsley had to reassure George that he was out here strengthening the wards at McGonagall’s request — he only relaxed because Harry’s at Hogwarts — he’s gone all funny again this week.”

“Look,” Harry said patiently. “I’m not a complete idiot and I think I can stay alive — you know? I’ve had a lot of practice at it.” Ron glared at him.

“I just want to know why,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Who would want to get to Harry now?”

“Next Dark Lord, maybe?” Ron said sarcastically. “They might see him as a threat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione scoffed. “Next Dark Lord …”

“It might be the vampires,” said Luna’s airy voice suddenly. Harry looked up to find her and Neville approaching.

“What vampires?” Ron asked, rolling his eyes.

“Daddy says they’ve come to talk to the Minister about the regulations,” Luna said, wide-eyed. “They don’t think its fair they can only come out at night.”

“Well, it isn’t anyone’s fault they are sensitive to sunlight,” Hermione said waspishly. She seemed annoyed that the conversation was straying from Harry’s imminent demise at the hands of persons unknown and glared at Luna fiercely.

“They’ll burn up!” Ron said. “That’s a little bit more than sensitive!”

“No they won’t Ronald,” Luna said serenely, seating herself next to Harry. “They just can’t stand the brightness. That’s why they want to move the coven here.”

“What?” Ron yelped. “They want to move the vampire coven here? Near children? Are they mad?”

“They have as much right to live here as we do, Ron,” Hermione said.

“I’m not sending my kids to Hogwarts if there’s a vampire coven nearby,” Ron said emphatically. “They’re undead! Fifty years is like a minute to them! They’ll still be here in twelve years!”

“And you’ll have a child ready for Hogwarts in twelve years, will you?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I … might,” Ron subsided and blushed.

“Send him covered in garlic,” Neville said. “He’ll be fine.”

“And permanently cripple him with women?” Ron scoffed. “I don’t think so!”

“We might have a girl,” Hermione said sharply before blushing heavily.

“I don’t think the vampires are after me,” Harry said, struggling not to laugh as Ron and Hermione avoided each other’s gaze with the type of dedication Hermione reserved for studying Ancient Runes.

“I would have thought you’d be safe now, Harry,” Neville said quietly. Harry shrugged; he was uncomfortable thinking about it. He stared out across the pitch, watching Ginny sail past the Slytherin Beaters and let a Quaffle fly towards the hoops. The Beaters narrowly avoided the Bludgers they’d sent at Ginny and began spiralling out of control towards the ground.

Harry stood up abruptly, aware that he was too far away to do anything, and winced as they crashed in a heap on the ground. Draco Malfoy swore vehemently as he swooped past Ginny, nearly unseating her as Harry jumped over the seats and ran for the stairs as quickly as he could, one eye on Ginny swinging dangerously in front of the hoops and one eye on the two second year Beaters writhing on the ground. As Harry thundered down the stairs he could hear Ron thumping after him and Neville scrambling behind. It sounded as though Neville had fallen but Harry didn’t stop to spare either of them a glance. He pelted out of the stands and across the pitch in time to see Ginny lose the battle with her balance and fall off her broom.

Harry was close enough to hear her swear viciously as she twisted in the air, trying to grab her broom handle. She managed to get one hand on a handful of twigs but they broke off and the broom went spiralling out of control, knocking the Slytherin Keeper into the hoops, where he hung, groaning, as his broom crashed into Ginny’s spectacularly before both brooms plummeted to the ground and splintered into several jagged pieces. Harry snatched his wand out and screamed a levitation spell to prevent Ginny from crashing into the ground. It felt like hours, but Harry knew the whole thing had taken only seconds and he trembled from the intensity of it.

“What the hell was that, Malfoy?” Ginny spat at Malfoy the moment her feet touched the ground. She stalked over to him when he landed next to one of the Beaters casting his broom aside.

“That was my Beaters taking a dive,” Malfoy said, glaring at her before dropping to his knees next to the moaning second year who was holding his arm at an unnatural angle. Blood pulsed from a wound near his elbow. Harry strode towards Ginny, ignoring the other Beater and stepping over him to get to her.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked urgently, pulling Ginny towards him as he realised his knees were shaking so hard he didn’t now how he was still standing. Ginny just nodded, letting him hold her. She was trembling violently.

Harry could see Hermione conjuring a stretcher while Ron flew up, on Malfoy’s broom, to rescue the stranded Keeper. Neville had dropped to his knees beside the other Beater and was talking quietly to him, waving his wand carefully over his leg.

“It’s a shame,” Luna said absently as she wandered over. “It looks like the Nargles got them.”

“What are you talking about, you stupid-”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Ron growled as he came abruptly to a stop and practically tipped the trembling Slytherin Keeper onto the grass.

“We’ve got a game in less than six weeks,” Malfoy spat at Ron. “I can’t believe I let you talk us into this, Weasley.” He turned and glared at Ginny.

“This could have happened anyway, Draco,” Hermione said calmly, levitating her conjured stretcher over to Neville. “It’s not Ginny’s fault.”

“Yeah, it’s not her fault your team’s a bunch of-”

“Ron,” Harry said warningly.

“What?” Ron asked. “Aren’t you just a little more concerned that his incompetent bloody Quidditch players could have killed Ginny? Or is your apparent death wish being transferred to her now?” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Ron,” Hermione said quietly. “Don’t.” Her voice trembled. Harry opened his eyes. Neville had been wearing a cloak and had taken it off to cover the injured Beater now lying white-faced on Hermione’s stretcher. He had removed his shirt and was using strips torn from it to bandage the arm of the other Beater who was bleeding profusely.

The sun was shining weakly on Neville’s back as he worked methodically to wrap the frail arm of the younger boy, puckered, silvery lines almost glistening in the spring sunshine. Hundreds of them criss-crossed Neville’s back, the welts leaving very little of his back unmarred.

“Hermione, are you going to take Samuels to Madam Pomfrey?” Neville asked quietly, not looking up.

“What happened?” Hermione asked in horror.

“He fell off his broom, silly,” Luna said serenely, waving her wand and lifting the stretcher into the air.

“Not to Samuels,” Hermione said stiffly, “to Neville.”

“Oh,” Luna stopped and squinted at Neville for a moment. “He must have run out of clean undershirts.” She twirled her wand haphazardly but the stretcher did begin moving towards the castle.

“Don’t worry about it, Hermione,” Neville said as he straightened up and put a steadying arm out to the remaining Beater as Malfoy pulled him to his feet. Neville addressed the boy. “Can you walk?”

“I’ll take him to the hospital wing,” Malfoy said quietly. “Thanks, Longbottom.” He turned to where Harry and Ginny stood. “Sorry.” The word was short, curt and barely sincere, but Harry didn’t care to confront Malfoy over it. Harry watched as Malfoy urged his trembling Keeper to accompany him and, slinging the Beater’s good arm over his shoulder, he trudged back to the castle. The Slytherin Chasers disappeared into the change rooms at a nod from Malfoy. Harry, Ron and Hermione gazed at Neville who was staring at the grass under his feet.

“Neville … about your back,” Hermione said, clearly unwilling to let the issue drop.

“I told you,” Neville mumbled before he dragged his eyes up to meet theirs. “They liked to spill blood.” He shrugged.

“But Neville-”

“Just how often were you in detention, mate?” Ron asked. Neville just shrugged.

“All the time,” Ginny whispered suddenly. She waved a shaky hand towards Neville. “But that wasn’t detention.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked, her voice soft, terrified. Neville avoided her gaze, collecting the remnants of both Ginny’s broom and the Nimbus the Slytherin keeper had been using.

“The downside to Seamus teaching us all how to kick blokes in their bollocks,” Ginny said quietly, “was that every time we did it … they’d do … that.” She indicated the scars on Neville’s back.

“It was retaliation for self-defence?” Hermione asked. Ginny nodded.

“I guess they figured they could knock out two Snidgets with one spell,” Ginny said. “If they stalked and flogged the blokes for teaching us how to … incapacitate, they figured we’d stop kicking their-”

“Why didn’t you just Reducto their package?” Ron demanded.

“If we tried magical defence, instead of just trying to rape us on the spot, they’d hand us over to the Carrows for their special detentions,” Ginny spat. She continued softly. “For using magic outside a classroom.” Ron blanched.

“What was the other pay-off?” Harry asked quietly.

“Well, if we didn’t try and …” Ginny waved a hand uncomfortably. She took a breath. “If we tried to stop them flogging the seventh years by not defending ourselves, they figured not only would they protect their package they’d still get to …” she trailed off again, unable to voice it.

“It’s one of the reasons we took to waiting outside detentions.” Neville shrugged, dropping the shards of broomstick at Ginny’s feet. “It was easier to threaten them before the girls had to defend themselves. That way we’d only have to take a slight beating to face to face instead of wondering which one of us they’d sneak up on later. Hannah and Susan said Ernie was unconscious for two days when he got surprised after lunch one day.”

“But what does that?” Ron asked, horrified as he shrugged his own cloak off and handed it to Neville. “What sort of spell can do that?”

“Oh, it’s not a spell,” Ginny said viciously. “It’s a cat o’ nine tails.” Hermione gasped.

“That’s barbaric,” Ron growled.

“No argument from me, mate,” Neville grunted as he slung Ron’s cloak around his own shoulders and headed off the pitch. The other four stared after him.

“I can’t believe …” Hermione trailed off, looking helplessly at Ginny.

“It was awful,” Ginny said, looking at nothing. “You’ve no idea how many sheets we had to tear to bandage them. I think they went after Neville more often than the others. I know they got Ernie’s younger brother once and it was bad. He wasn’t as big as the others, or as strong. After that … Neville made everyone travel in packs and he and Seamus got the other seventh years to stand guard after detentions. It worked, mostly. I know we tried to avoid kicking but … well …”

“Neville would rather have taken that than see any of the girls … injured,” Hermione said.

“Maybe that’s what being a true Gryffindor is,” Ron said quietly as he hunched his shoulders against the chill, his eyes on Neville’s retreating back.

“It seems like just when I think we heard it all … there’s something new we didn’t know about,” Hermione said. “Are we ever going to know the full horror of what went on here last year?”

“I doubt it,” Ginny answered her, scooping up the remains of the broomsticks. “I think you really had to be here.” She shot the three of them an apologetic look before she hurried after Neville.

“Oi, where-” Ron started, annoyed. Harry put a hand on his arm and shook his head. Ron just looked at Harry in confusion.

“Leave them,” Harry said softly.

“But … doesn’t it bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?” Harry asked, watching as Ginny caught up to Neville and touched him gently on the arm. Neville turned to her and they exchanged a few words before Ginny put her arm around him and the two of them made their way slowly towards the castle.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Ron asked incredulously, gesturing wildly at Ginny and Neville.

“No,” Harry said quietly. “They’ve been through a lot — stuff I wasn’t here for. I can’t … I can’t help her deal with everything.” He began collecting the Quidditch balls, wrestling the Bludgers back into the ball chest with great difficulty.

“But you’re her boyfriend, not Neville,” Ron persisted, following Harry doggedly.

“I’m not her keeper, Ron,” Harry said, annoyed. “Ginny and I are both aware that we have … some things that … just forget it.”

“She doesn’t tell you stuff?”

“She does,” Harry said, picking up one end of the ball chest and waiting pointedly for Ron to do the same. “We tell each other everything. It doesn’t mean there aren’t some things she shares with other people as well.”

Ron grasped the ball chest and lifted it. Harry strode off without waiting to see if Ron was ready, Hermione trailing after them. Harry shouldered open the equipment room and dropped the ball chest heavily on the floor. He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“She shouldn’t need anyone else,” Ron persisted. Hermione glared at him and he stared back at her unabashed.

“You are such a caveman,” Hermione huffed.

“Oh, come on,” Ron said, throwing his hands in the air. “You don’t have someone else — some other bloke.”

“I have Harry,” Hermione said quietly. Ron stared at her for a moment.

“But that’s … that’s different.”

“Not really,” Hermione said. Ron stared at them for a moment.

“But — he — you’re like …” Ron stumbled to a stop.

“Ron, really,” Harry said shouldering past to get to the door, “don’t worry about it, I’m not.”

“I just ... want you guys to work,” Ron said, barely loud enough for Harry to hear.

“We do work, Ron,” Harry said, “and we work best when we trust each other.” He crossed his arms and eyed Ron pointedly.

“I’m sorry,” Ron said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I shouldn’t interfere …”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Harry said as he walked towards the exit from the pitch.

“But I do think you should be paying more attention to the fact that someone’s out to get you,” Ron called. Harry froze.

“He’s right,” Hermione said. Harry turned slowly to see the two of them standing together. Hermione was wringing her hands and Ron’s brow was furrowed.

“I’m worried,” Ron said simply. “I know I mocked George but … if he wasn’t playing bodyguard I would be.”

“A Quintaped, Harry,” said Hermione in a low voice.

“Hagrid has always had a thing-”

“Don’t ignore it,” Ron said harshly. “Sure maybe you could write that off as a coincidence if it wasn’t for these …” He trailed off waving his hands, frustrated.

“Goons,” Hermione supplied.

“Yeah, the goons,” Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. “If it wasn’t for them we could say the Quintaped was a freak accident but there were goons, so we can’t.” He nodded firmly.

Harry’s shoulders sagged. He knew he’d been avoiding it — by spending time with Hermione who was only interested in the mystery of the Gryffindor room, and Ginny who only wanted to get him alone. If Harry was honest with himself he had to admit he’d been avoiding Ron because he knew his oldest friend would want to make him face facts.

“Nothing happened, Kingsley strengthened the wards, everything’s fine,” Harry said tiredly.

“Stop it,” Ron shot back. “Just stop it. Stop pretending it’s not happening.”

“What do you want me to do, Ron?” Harry shouted, throwing his arms wide. “I’m done living my life looking over my shoulder. I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore, and you know what? If they want to get me so bad, maybe we should just let them!”

“Don’t say that!” Ron shouted. “You don’t mean that!”

“What if I do?” Harry asked quietly. Hermione shook her head, she was trembling slightly and looked as if she were about to cry.

“You don’t,” Ron said firmly. He crossed his arms over his chest again and glared at Harry.

“What do we know?” Harry asked sarcastically. “A rare creature that shouldn’t be here was here. It was in my room when it shouldn’t have been. Thugs are out to get me when they shouldn’t be — I’m a bloody hero — remember?” He glared at Ron, breathing heavily.

“It’s not a lot to go on,” Hermione said, fidgeting with the hem of her jumper.

“We’ve figured out stuff on a lot less,” Ron said stoically.

“I don’t want to figure it out, Ron,” Harry said. “I just … I just want to be a normal bloke. I want to finish with school and then I want to rent a dingy little flat with mismatched furniture and a wonky loo that you have to thump to make it flush. I want to go my boring job every predictable morning and on the weekends go to watch Quidditch and then dissect the game at the pub afterwards with my mates and … and then …”

“And then what?” Ron demanded. Harry remained silent. Ron stepped closer to him. “And then what?”

“Nothing, and then nothing,” Harry said. “Just forget about it.”

“No,” Ron said forcefully. “What then? What else?”

“Nothing else,” Harry said defiantly.

“Bull,” Ron said firmly. He swore colourfully before continuing. “That is not even what you want to do.”

“Of course it is,” Harry protested hotly. “That’s what every bloke wants.”

“Are you really like every other bloke?” Ron asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry said with more certainty than he actually felt.

“All right then,” Ron said with a smirk. “After you’ve been to your Quidditch game and dissected it down the pub and you’re back in your flea infested little flat with the ugly couch — what then?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said warily, “whatever it is that people do.” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Don’t lie,” Ron said. “You have bigger plans than that and they don’t involve dodgy toilet cisterns and lumpy couches.”

“We’ve been through so much,” Hermione said. “We can get through one more thing.”

“But it’s not going to be one more thing,” Harry argued. “After this it’s going to be something else and then another thing and then one more thing.”

“And when have we ever let you deal with it on your own?” Ron asked quietly. “Now, what is it you really want? And don’t give me crap about a dingy bachelor pad.”

“You’ll think I’m daft,” Harry muttered.

“No we won’t,” Hermione said immediately. Harry raised one eyebrow at her and shook his head once before sighing.

“I want a place for Teddy,” Harry said quietly. “Somewhere he can visit so we can spend time with him.”

“That’s not daft,” Ron said.

“It’s not normal,” Harry sighed.

“Neither are you.”

“Gee thanks, Ron.” Harry scowled.

“You know what I mean,” Ron said firmly. “And that’s how I know I’m right that you don’t want to just … let someone kill you.” Ron grimaced as he spat the words out.

“You don’t want to leave Teddy,” Hermione said. She looked almost smug and Harry scowled at her too, unwilling to admit that she and Ron were right.

“Okay,” Harry said with a sigh. “We’ll figure this out.” He ran a hand through his hair as he stomped off the pitch and towards the castle.

He could sense Ron’s smug smile and Hermione’s satisfaction as he stalked away from them.

**************

Harry was wandering idly along the fifth floor corridor when Professor Thistlewaite beckoned to him. The professor never usually paid much attention to Harry. After the first week or so Harry had taken pity on the man and sat at the back of the classroom, quietly transfiguring things so as not to startle him. Harry couldn’t think of a single time he’d seen the professor outside of classes or meals.

“J-J-Just the boy I wanted to see,” Professor Thistlewaite stammered, shifting from one foot to another as he hovered in an alcove. He was twisting his hands in front of him and his hat was slowly slipping over his right ear. Harry was forcibly reminded of Professor Quirrell and was unable to hide a shiver.

“What can I do for you, Professor?” Harry asked politely, stopping several feet away, hoping he could shake off the man quickly and get back up to the tower before someone came looking for him.

It wasn’t often Harry was alone these days. Ron and Hermione had enlisted Harry’s dorm mates to help them figure out who might be out to get Harry. For the past week none of them left him alone for a minute. He’d had to practically beg Seamus to let him shower alone and once hexed Dean for following him to the toilet. Ginny had taken to throwing murderous glances at Neville because he had insisted on accompanying them to the Gryffindor room to ‘study the runes’. Harry was only alone at the present time because Donald Smythe and Sebastian Hornblower had been distracted by two blonde Hufflepuffs in the library.

“Th-Thought we might have a c-c-cup of tea,” the professor said with a nervous twitch to his left eye.

“Oh well I really do have to-”

“I just g-g-g-got new cream b-b-b-biscuits.”

“Well … I guess …”

“Melvin, a word?” Professor Fiesche’s voice was smooth, velvety, as it floated over Harry’s shoulder. Professor Thistlewaite started visibly and Harry jumped as the Defence Professor’s cat hissed viciously and jumped lightly to the floor.

“I-I-I was j-just about to have t-tea with H-H-Harry,” Professor Thistlewaite said, attempting to draw himself further upright.

“Yes, yes,” Fiesche said dismissively. “I’m sure Mr Potter has plenty of … revising to do.” He eyed Harry grimly as he said it and his cat stalked imperiously between the two professors.

“Erm, yeah,” Harry muttered. “Potions, essay. I’ll um … see you later, Professors.” Harry backed away slowly as Fiesche plastered an insincere smile on his face and Thistlewaite grimaced and gave a half wave before the cat hissed at him.

The timid Transfiguration professor jumped and began murmuring something to his colleague. Professor Fiesche nodded as Thistlewaite scurried away. The cat sprang lightly back up Fiesche’s robes, balancing on his shoulder and curled up on his head. Fiesche gave Harry a parting glance as he strode away and Harry wondered again why that particular professor always looked at him with such loathing.

Deep in thought, Harry wandered up to the seventh floor and absently gave the Fat Lady the password. He clambered through the portrait hole wondering, not for the first time, why Professor Fiesche’s cat sat on his head. Harry was about to throw his bag on the hearth rug and himself onto his favourite couch when he realised that the common room was entirely silent. Looking up he saw several groups of students studying at the small tables spread around the room and Hermione, hands on hips, glaring at him from mere inches away.

Where have you been?” she demanded icily.

“Coming back from the library,” Harry said wearily. Neville was glaring at him and Dean looked affronted. Donald Smythe and Sebastian Hornblower were sitting on the couch behind them looking dejected.

“Alone?” shrieked Hermione. Harry winced. He glanced around the common room but any student who happened to still be in there studiously avoided his eyes.

“We’ve been out looking for you,” Seamus said suddenly, materialising from behind the couch. “When these two jokers were caught napping-”

“Don’t blame them,” Harry said in exasperation. “I ditched them.”

“Oh no,” Dean interrupted. “We blame Cynthia and Maude Hoffman.”

“Honestly,” Seamus shook his head. “Hufflepuffs …”

“There’s nothing wrong with Hufflepuffs,’ Neville murmured.

“The point is,” Hermione said through clenched teeth, “that Harry should know better than to wander the castle completely unprotected!”

“I was with Professor Fiesche if you must know,” Harry said grumpily, sinking into one of the arm chairs.

“That’s not exactly comforting,” Neville said pointedly. “We’ve all seen the way he looks at you.”

“Yeah, as though he’d like to use you for stunning practice — in the middle of the lake,” Seamus said.

“He is a bit creepy,” Donald added.

“He didn’t do anything,” Harry shrugged. “Thistlewaite was trying to get me to have a cup of tea and sample his new biscuits when Fiesche suddenly appeared out of nowhere, got me off the hook.”

“You’re going soft for old Dickfish?” Dean asked. Hermione groaned.

“He’s the creepy one,” Sebastian added.

“Dickfish, honestly,” Hermione muttered, crossing her arms and glaring.

“Do you often have tea with professors, Harry?” Neville asked pensively. “It seems a bit odd …”

“Unless you count Slughorn … never,” Harry replied.

“What about Professor Lupin?” Dean asked. “Didn’t you used to have tea with him sometimes when you weren’t allowed in Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, that reminds me, Harry,” Hermione said. “You really shouldn’t go into Hogsmeade this weekend.” But Harry wasn’t paying her any attention.

“Damn, I forgot about Teddy,” he cried, leaping to his feet. He waved one hand at his discarded bag. “Neville, can you chuck that on my bed for me? I’m going to Floo out.”

“Where are you going?”

“Teddy’s having some sort of … I dunno … some shot or something,” Harry said. “I told Andromeda I’d be there.”

“Twelve-month Dragon Pox inoculation?” Hermione asked.

“If you say so, Hermione,” Harry answered briefly, searching the mantelpiece for the Floo powder. “Can you tell Ginny I’ll be back in time for Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

“Harry, I really don’t think you should be going anywhere,” said Hermione impatiently. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

“I’m his godfather,” Harry said shortly, scooping a handful of Floo powder from the pot. “It’s necessary.”

“Ron is going to be very displeased,” said Sebastian Hornblower shaking his head sorrowfully. “We’re supposed to keep an eye on you.”

“You all need to lighten up,” Harry muttered as he threw the powder into the fireplace and vanished. As he spun out of sight Harry wondered at the perplexed look on Hermione’s face. She was thinking about something, but Harry had no idea what it might be.

He stumbled out of the Floo in the foyer of St Mungo’s, narrowly missing a witch with six arms who was belching orange bubbles. A long line of witches and wizards stretched out from the Welcome Witch and Harry hesitated behind a tall, thin wizard with a set of bagpipes and a soup tureen. His arms were crossed in front of him, his left hand supporting the tureen which, on second glance, appeared to be growing out of his right elbow. The bagpipes dangling from his left elbow wheezed as he sifted restlessly. The wizard’s right hand clutched at the bagpipes which were slowly turning the left arm into red and blue tartan.

“This gets more ridiculous every day,” muttered a portly wizard who was hovering next to his tall, thin companion. “It’s getting so it’ll take up to a day before you can get yerself sorted out after an accident. It’s not right to make people wait so long.”

“I daresay it’s often something that could be prevented,” the tall, thin wizard said quietly. “I’m not here by choice, you know. If you could resist experimenting with your spell work we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“But what if it works?” The portly wizard bounced excitedly, spinning on his toes.

Harry idly wondered what could possibly cause an experimental spell to go so wrong when suddenly the portly wizard grabbed his arm. Harry was startled and took a step back but the wizard just grinned widely.

“Goodness Lester,” the tall, thin wizard said impatiently. “You have got to stop accosting people like that.”

“It’s an honour,” the portly Lester breathed reverently. Harry smiled awkwardly and shifted from one foot to the other, not sure how to extricate himself without making a scene.

“Who do you think you’ve met this time?” asked the tall, thin wizard. “If it’s another ruddy Quidditch player …”

“Mr Potter,” breathed Lester reverently.

“Oh, well that’s ridiculous.” The wizard prodded the tureen with his left hand, making the bagpipes wobble as he sighed heavily.

“Pleased to meet you,” Harry said, tugging his arm free.

“You can’t be,” grumbled the tall, thin wizard. “No one is ever pleased to meet Lester.”

“Here now, you are always so negative,” Lester complained. “I don’t see you running for the hills.”

“Yes, well, I’m stuck with you, aren’t I? Twenty-five years and you’re still the only one who can make a cup of tea the way I like it.”

“If he says he’s please ter meet me, then he is,” Lester said indignantly, jerking a thumb at Harry.

“Charmed,” Harry muttered, wishing he knew where he was supposed to meet Andromeda and Teddy and that he didn’t have to wait in this line.

“Here, you don’t look spell damaged or nothin’,” Lester said, peering at Harry. “You all right? Not contagious or anything, are you? Fergus is a bit delicate s’all.”

“You think you meet Harry Potter and the first thing you ask him is if he’s contagious?” Fergus said with a snort.

“Ain’t no think about it,” Lester said. “This ‘ere is Harry Potter and yeah, last thing I want is you catchin’ something nasty with yer defences down and all.”

“Well whose fault is it we’re here?” Fergus snapped. “I’m not the one trying to convert the telling-bone and the tee-pee!”

“Tee-Vee,” sighed Lester.

“No, I’m not contagious,” Harry said. “I’m, um, not here for me …”

“Ah, visitin’,” Lester said, nodding. “Lots of people still here o’ course — bound to be someone you know.” The two wizards nodded solemnly.

“Not sure where they’ve shifted ‘em?” Fergus asked. “I know they kept shiftin’ me mam around; was ever so glad to get her home.”

“Beats me what sort of things they done to that woman,” Lester said, shaking his head. “She ain’t never welcomed me afore.”

“I told you, Les,” Fergus said softly, “she never hated yer. Just didn’t … understand.”

“Drastic way to come at the fact Muggleborns ain’t all bad,” Lester grumbled. “Still, she’s lucky I guess. Lot’s more never made it.” Fergus nodded solemnly, the bagpipes on his elbow wheezing slightly as he moved.

“I just, um … don’t know where they do the er, the kid’s stuff,” Harry said ruffling his hair absently.

“Kid’s stuff?” Fergus stared at Harry absently. “You’re too young to ‘ave a kid.”

“See! Look, I told you,” Lester almost shouted. “See his scar, that’s Harry Potter!”

Harry cringed as murmuring rumbled through the foyer and people began turning around, whispering, and craning their necks to peer at him.

“Well, I’m sorry, Lester,” Fergus said. “It’s just you see Harry Potter so often …”

“Okay, maybe last week I was a bit mental, but I still think I saw him in Surrey that time,” Lester defended himself.

“That was fifteen years ago, you daft old goat!”

“I was in Surrey fifteen years ago,” Harry couldn’t help saying. “Of course I was only three …”

“See!” Lester proclaimed loudly. “I told you. I still think that woman was a fool, carting that fat, little porker around in that pushchair and the little tacker dragging along behind …”

“Harry Potter was a fat porker?” asked the woman in front of Fergus.

“Lots of kiddies are fat, Gladys,” sighed a thin man who was standing next to her, holding up the extra ear that was growing out of the side of her head, nearly dragging on the ground.

“I don’t believe it,” Gladys sniffed. “He’s always looked ever so skinny — remember that picture they had in the Prophet when he started school? And stop shouting Len, I’m not deaf.”

“Oh yes you are,” Len muttered. Gladys turned to glare at him.

“Just because I choose not to hear your advances, it does not give you the right to try and enlarge my ears!”

“He tries to make advances on her?” Fergus muttered. “He must be desperate.”

“Desperate or married to her and he hasn’t got a choice,” Lester added.

“Yes, well, I’m not getting married,” Fergus muttered. “And if you’ve got any sense you wouldn’t be either.”

“Fergus, honey, we’ve got no prospects anyway,” Lester muttered gloomily. He turned to Harry, who wanted to escape but was far too aware of the people all around, staring at him. The couple in front of Fergus and Lester were bickering loudly and the set of bagpipes on Fergus’s elbow was wheezing alarmingly.

“I can’t imagine why, when you call me honey,” Fergus grumbled. He turned to Harry. “You haven’t got a best mate with a thing for blokes, do you? Sure fire way to kill your own sex life when they walk around calling you honey.”

“No one calls me honey,” Harry said faintly, scanning the crowd for an escape route. He was startled by a tap on his shoulder. He turned with trepidation.

“They don’t have a kiddie section,” said the short, blonde witch standing behind him with a second head growing out of her left shoulder. “What exactly is it you need?”

“New brain most likely!” her second head suddenly squawked. The witch slapped a hand over the mouth of the extra head and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I keep hoping they can get rid of it permanently but it always seems to grow back. It gets a bit tetchy when I come here to have it removed again.”

“I … erm … my godson …” Harry stared at the second head.

“See! I knew he didn’t have his own kid,” Lester said triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you, Ferg? That Skeeter woman needs to be strung up and shot.”

“Is he in here?” the blonde witch behind Harry asked kindly.

“Well not really, he’s having a shot or something,” Harry clarified. “But I don’t know where.”

“No, no, no,” Lester said shaking his head vigorously. “I didn’t say the kid needed to be shot, don’t do nothing hasty!”

“No, a shot like … when you want to stop a disease,” Harry said, exasperated.

“Oh!” Fergus exclaimed. “You want that potion clinic thingy. Yeah, me sister’s always taking her brats there to dose ‘em up on some potion or another. Reckons it’ll stop ‘em getting Dragon Pox and Funnel Fever. I mean it’s not like either of them killed us when we were little tackers.”

“Yes,” Harry said hastily. “Dragon Pox, that’s it. He’s getting the potion for Dragon Pox.”

“Second floor, dear,” the blonde witch said. “Healer Pye’s been making inoculations like Muggles have and he’s got a clinic up there, last Friday of every month. Just take the stairs and then turn left at the purple door and straight on to the red door.”

“Thanks,” Harry said faintly, edging out of the line.

“So you should be!” called the second head as Harry scurried away to the stairs.

By following the blonde witch’s directions Harry soon came to the red door. He pushed it open to find a room crammed full of harried looking witches clutching squirming children on their laps while faint screaming echoed from a corridor to his right. Andromeda was sitting stiffly on a straight-backed wire chair. Teddy was sitting in her lap, chewing on the stuffed dragon Harry had brought him on his last visit. The young woman next to Andromeda was clasping a small, yellow bundle to her chest and looking nervously at the corridor. She winced when fresh wailing started up.

“Da!” squealed Teddy suddenly. “Da! Ba! Har!” The little boy laughed and clapped his hands together, squirming on his grandmother’s lap as his hair turned pitch black. Harry smiled as Teddy wriggled, sliding off Andromeda’s lap and straining for the floor. Andromeda looked up and, seeing Harry, let go of Teddy. Quicker than Harry thought was possible, Teddy had crawled to his godfather and began pulling himself up on Harry’s trousers.

“Hey, Teddy,” Harry said softly as he bent down to scoop the little boy up. “You just keep getting bigger every time I see you!” He blew a raspberry on Teddy’s neck and the little boy squealed loudly, clutching at Harry’s hair and glasses.

“Da! Da da da!” chanted Teddy, bouncing in Harry’s arms. Harry dropped a soft kiss to Teddy’s head as he moved over to Andromeda. He had to be careful not to step on any toys or children as he picked his way across the room.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Andromeda said quietly as Harry crouched down, putting Teddy’s little feet on the floor and grasping his hands to hold the boy upright.

“No problem,” Harry said, gazing around at the cramped waiting room.

“He’s getting so big and … he doesn’t like these potions,” Andromeda said. “Kreacher’s helped me with the last couple but Mrs Chumley says the babies have a cold at the moment and I can’t call him away from Sirius House.”

“He’s had these potions before?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Not this one,” Andromeda clarified. “He’s had some of the other ones but … this one’s new. What if he reacts badly to it?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Harry said. “That’s why I’m staying the night.”

“Are you willing to hold him down?” Andromeda asked, eyebrow raised.

“For the potion?” Harry asked, smiling as Teddy leaned over and began chewing on his knee. “He’s teething again …”

“Yes,” Andromeda clarified, “both for holding him down and the teeth.”

“My Aunt didn’t hold me when she took me for immunisations,” Harry said absently, watching Teddy crawl after a ball. “She stuffed my cousin with a cream cake before and after his. I remember watching the nurse chase him around the room with a needle.”

“Why on earth would you chase a child with a needle?” Andromeda looked horrified.

“That’s how Muggles give them,” Harry looked up at her and shrugged, shifting slightly so he was sitting crossed legged on the floor in front of her. “You should have heard Dudley howl.”

“Barbaric,” Andromeda said firmly, watching Teddy scoot back towards them, one pudgy hand clutching a blue ball.

“My Aunt ended up holding him while he thrashed around,” Harry went on, holding a hand out to Teddy. “But then it was my turn and she warned me not to move a muscle. I sat on this plastic orange chair, terrified to move or make a sound. She waited outside — said she didn’t have to listen to a brat like me caterwaul. I was far too terrified to move a muscle and I daren’t make a sound.

“I think the nurse felt sorry for me. She gave me a lollipop and let me sit in the chair until it was finished. It was a good lollipop … a red one … but I just wanted her to … I wanted her to hold me until it stopped hurting.” Teddy reached them then and flicked the ball at Harry who grabbed at it while Teddy clambered into his lap.

“Har!” Teddy squealed, clutching at Harry’s shirt. Harry gave Teddy the ball and slid his arms around the little boy.

“It’s not a problem to hold him,” Harry said quietly. Andromeda remained silent; watching as Teddy shoved the ball under Harry’s nose and screeched happily.

One by one the witches stood and carted their children into the room at the end of the corridor. Sometimes this resulted in loud wailing and occasionally a loud bang. Once there was even a puff of pink smoke that wafted into the waiting room. Harry played on the floor with Teddy, building a tower of blocks and investigating a puzzle that kept rearranging itself so that it was impossible to solve. Teddy had crawled back into Harry’s lap and was chewing on his dragon when a little girl wandered over and sat down in front of Harry.

She looked as if she was about four years old and had soft, wispy blonde curls tied in with a large red bow that matched the shiny shoes on her feet.

“I’ve got new shoes,” the little girl proclaimed loudly, thrusting one of her feet under Harry’s nose. Teddy tried to grab at it and she wrinkled her nose before pulling her foot away.

“Claudia,” hissed a blonde woman from across the room.

“Shush, Mummy,” said the little girl. “I’m making a new friend.”

“They are very pretty shoes,” Harry said, trying to hide a smirk.

“Red shoes are the best kind,” Claudia said, eyeing her feet carefully. “Have you got any red shoes?”

“Erm, no, sorry,” Harry said.

“That’s very sad,” Claudia said sincerely. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you here to get a yucky potion too?”

“No,” Harry bent his head closer to her. “Teddy here is having a potion. I’m just keeping him company.” Claudia searched his face carefully.

“You need a potion,” she said finally, “to fix up that scar.” She jabbed her finger at Harry’s forehead and he winced. Claudia was suddenly whisked away.

“So terribly sorry,” came the murmured apologies from the blonde woman. Harry smiled slightly and shook his head. He thought he saw the woman peer at him for a moment but then she had turned away, pulling a book out of her bag and handing it to Claudia.

“Do you think it’ll ever fade?” Andromeda asked suddenly.

“I hope so,” Harry sighed. He could feel the back of his neck getting red as the occupants of the waiting room began shifting nervously and whispering. Claudia suddenly appeared at his side again and thrust the book at him.

“Read,” the little girl commanded and collapsed into Harry’s lap, narrowly missing Teddy. Her mother hissed at her again but Harry smiled and took out his wand, levitating the book in front of them. He used his wand to turn the pages as he read the simple story about a little girl who had new, red boots. Harry saw Andromeda out the corner of his eye as she held up a hand to Claudia’s mother. The shifting and whispering stopped but Harry felt like his every move was being watched by the occupants of the waiting room.

“Thank you,” Claudia said when the story was finished. “You’re good at reading stories. What’s your name?”

“Harry.” He whispered it, knowing it confirmed to everyone in the room exactly who he was.

“That’s a stupid name,” Claudia pronounced. A gasp echoed around the waiting room. Claudia scrambled off Harry’s lap and stood in front of him, surveying him thoughtfully. “I’m going to call you … Stan.” Harry laughed.

“We can build a tower now, Stan.” Claudia tossed her book aside and began stacking blocks diligently. Harry looked up at the blonde witch and shrugged before summoning more blocks. It was a trial to keep Teddy from destroying the elaborate block towers and Harry was extremely glad when Teddy’s name was called. Harry scrambled to his feet, scooping Teddy off the floor.

“Bye, Stan!” called Claudia. Harry heard chuckles from the waiting room as he hurried down the corridor.

He recognised the Healer who showed them into the cramped room at the end of the corridor. It was the same Healer who’d tried stitches on Arthur when he’d been bitten by Nagini. The room was filled with an odd assortment of plastic Muggle anatomy models, an array of multi-coloured potions and a few lethal looking needles arranged carefully on the shelves lining the room. A pile of medical files teetered on the edge of a large desk that took up half the room and two plush arm chairs sat in front of it. A side table filled with pink and green potions sat next to the chairs, against the wall.

“Well, this is … Teddy?” said the Healer, reaching out to pinch Teddy’s cheek gently. “And who have you brought with you today, young man? Is this your dad?” The Healer — Augustus Pye looked up at Harry and smiled.

“He’s my godson,” Harry said quietly. The Healer’s eyes widened as Harry spoke.

“Merlin’s beard …”

“We’re here for the twelve-month Dragon Pox,” Andromeda said briskly, sitting in one of the armchairs. “I do hope you know what you’re doing with this. I’ll have you know we didn’t mess with all this nonsense when my Dora was a babe.”

“It’s quite safe, quite safe,” Pye said, taking his eyes off Harry and waving him into a seat. “Of course this one tastes a bit stronger than any of the others. Most of my young patients are not a fan but … well it’s better than all those nasty green sores isn’t it?” He tickled Teddy under the chin as he spoke.

“You’re not going to use one of those nasty looking barbarian tools are you?” Andromeda asked, eyeing the needles suspiciously.

The Healer chuckled and busied himself at the side table for a moment before holding up a small bottle of pink potion to the light that hung suspended in the middle of the room and peering through the glass at the contents.

“Yes, yes, this shall do nicely,” he muttered. “Now, Mr Potter, if you could just sit young Teddy on your lap there and just trap his arms against his body … we don’t need anyone squirming …”

Harry cradled Teddy gently, pinning his two tiny arms under his own, and dropped a kiss on the baby’s cheek. Teddy looked up at him and gurgled before blowing a bubble and kicking his little feet against the chair. Harry suddenly felt supremely guilty that he was holding Teddy down for something so unpleasant. He looked up at Andromeda and she smiled gently before nodding and softly grasped Teddy’s head, holding it still as Pye uncorked the bottle, letting a cloud of green steam escape with a hiss.

Swifter than Harry thought possible, the Healer had poured the contents into Teddy’s mouth. The cloud of green steam swirled about Teddy’s head as the little boy squirmed frantically and began to cough and splutter. Harry, unable to hold Teddy still, realised he’d let go of Teddy’s arms only when one pudgy hand connected with his glasses and sent them flying. With a final choking and gagging sound Teddy spat out some of the potion all over Harry’s robes, some of it landing on his cheek with a splat. The green cloud hovered for a moment before swirling around Harry and suddenly vanished as it split in two and swept up Teddy’s nose and then Harry’s.

“Oh dear,” Augustus Pye said faintly as Harry started sneezing, coughing and spluttering. Teddy was now screaming frantically and Harry felt Andromeda lift Teddy from his lap as he shook his head and screwed up his eyes. Harry opened his mouth to try and get rid of the scent and taste of the steam, making a gagging sound just as his glasses were pressed back into his hand.

“What in Merlin’s name is that?” Harry croaked. “It’s foul!”

“I say, Mr Potter, have you had Dragon Pox?” the Healer asked him. Harry pushed his glasses back onto his face and scowled. Pye was peering at him oddly.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, feeling like he wanted to pull his tongue out of his mouth and scrub it. He wasn’t at all surprised that Teddy was still screaming. It was only through incredible self-discipline that Harry wasn’t throwing a tantrum at the sheer hideousness of that disgusting steam.

“You don’t know?” Pye asked faintly, scurrying behind his desk and searching frantically through a sheaf of parchment.

“Well, if I had it during the first fifteen months of my life that were spent in hiding,” Harry said irritably, “I wouldn’t know it. If it happened after that, my Aunt probably locked me in a cupboard until it went away. I don’t know what it looks like, I could have had any one of a million magical diseases as a child and not know it.”

“Oh dear,” the Healer said again, wringing his hands.

“What on earth is the matter, man?” Andromeda demanded, shifting Teddy in her arms so that he was not screaming in her left ear.

“Well, we’ve not tested it on people who’ve not had Dragon Pox,” Pye said.

“But you give it to people who’ve not had Dragon Pox!” Andromeda sounded irate. Harry was working his jaw trying to expel the disgusting taste.

“We give it to children who’ve not had Dragon Pox,” Pye said, wringing his hands again. “Adults have all had Dragon Pox! The steam’s never gone anywhere near any of the adults before!”

“Wait,” Andromeda held up one hand while Teddy lay squalling, cradled in her other arm. “So what you are saying is that you have absolutely no idea what effect this potion will have on a wizard-born adult who’s never had Dragon Pox as a child?”

“Well, to be fair, there aren’t any wizards who haven’t had it by the time they get to Hogwarts,” the Healer whined. “I mean, it’s so contagious ...”

“Obviously, you were wrong about that,” Andromeda snapped. “Do you expect him to suffer the same mild symptoms as the children you … inoculate?”

“I really couldn’t say,” muttered Pye, glancing at Harry. “Sometimes the effects of live vaccinations on other people are very unpredictable …”

Andromeda made a noise of displeasure and shifted Teddy in her arms, soothing him wordlessly. Harry looked at his ruined robes, the pink potion dripping down his front in large, sticky globules, slowly turning a disgusting shade of greyish-green.

“Can you tell if I’ve had Dragon Pox?” Harry asked, ineffectively wiping at the potion with the hem of his robes.

“It’s very contagious,” Pye said nervously. “You get it by contact with others infected by Dragon Pox. Most wizarding children get it before they go to Hogwarts. Muggleborns seem immune. I’m doing some rather fascinating research regarding the similarities between Dragon Pox and Chicken Pox; it really is quite interesting to see exactly how the diseases line up. Did you know-”

“Mr Pye,” Andromeda broke in icily. “If you have not had contact with other wizards would you get Dragon Pox before you went to Hogwarts?”

“Well, of course not.” The Healer looked affronted that Andromeda did not share his passion for his research.

“And how many cases of Dragon Pox have been reported from Hogwarts?”

“Very few since the great plague of 1875,” Pye replied. “Since then it has been rather the fashion to make sure one’s children got infected before attending so as not to decimate the school in such a fashion again. I mean that’s why I started this research! Don’t you think it’s ultimately more effective to stop the disease in its tracks? You can still die from Dragon Pox, you know, and yet mothers go around, deliberately sticking their children in contagious homes. And they call my inoculations barbaric-”

“I’m sure this is all quite fascinating,” Harry said dryly, “but, as usual, I appear to be an exception to the rule. If this steam stuff never attacked an adult before you have no idea what it will do.” He sighed heavily.

“The reactions in children have been quite mild,” Pye said. “Bit of mild fever, a slight rash sometimes … one poor little chap turned a faint green but his mother wasn’t sure that wasn’t the washing potion he’d tipped on himself.”

“Is Dragon Pox different for adults?” Harry asked.

“Well … I don’t rightly know,” Pye said, shifting nervously. “I’ve not seen a case of adult Dragon Pox at all. Old Healer Fingleman saw a case about forty years ago, said it was nasty — some Malfoy fellow who never made it. I wouldn’t like to say what sort of reaction might occur-”

“So, really, you’ve no idea what could happen?” Andromeda demanded.

The Healer shrugged.

“You’d better hope this doesn’t turn out badly,” Andromeda hissed, peering at Harry. She turned to Pye, pointing at him threateningly. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes and have to explain that you … that you … infected Harry Potter with Dragon Pox!”

“Really, I think I’m fine,” Harry said. “I just need to clean up.”

“Oh, well …” the Healer eyed Harry’s robes critically. “They’re ruined now — that’ll never come out.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged his robes off irritably, leaving them in a heap on the chair. He inspected his hands nervously, expecting them to turn green or grow sudden festering boils before he shrugged and reached out to Teddy. The little boy looked at Harry woefully. Teddy’s wide eyes were filled with tears, his bottom lip trembling.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. Teddy reached out and hit at Harry’s outstretched hand before he wailed and clutched at his grandmother’s shoulder. Harry frowned as Teddy’s hair changed from black to a fiery red.

“He’ll get over it,” Andromeda said softly, squeezing Harry’s shoulder as she went past and out the door. “Let’s get him home.” Harry followed her out, ignoring the mutterings of Augusts Pye as he scratched frantically as the mess of parchment oh his desk.

Teddy’s aversion to Harry was short-lived and before long he was happily playing with Harry on the sitting room floor; his hair returned to the black locks he customarily wore around his godfather. Harry wasn’t aware, however, that when Andromeda came in to announce tea that she found them both curled up on the hearthrug fast asleep and a green tinge slowly spreading across Harry’s cheeks.
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