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The Time of Destiny | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 503 Summary: Sequel to "The Refiner's Fire." Harry Potter returns to Privet Drive for the last time, prior to his Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Much to the Dursley's surprise, Remus is going to stay with him due to a head injury Harry received on the train. The Dursleys are not happy with this situation, as you can well-imagine. This fic covers both the summer before Harry's seventh year, and his entire last year at school. Canon-based with some OC. Ships, for those who care: H/G, R/H, R/T Hitcount: Story Total: 508958; Chapter Total: 17438 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Author notes: I’ve created a few spells for this chapter. If the incantations are in the wrong conjugation, just remember that I don’t speak Latin! Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my betas, Starfox, Blakeavich, Iris and Asad! You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic here. Hermione’s books were a huge hit in the wizarding world, and were the only textbooks most Hogwarts student read all the way through before school ever started. Many students were even buying the complete sets rather than only the one for their year, they were enjoying the stories so much. Everyone knew Harry Potter taught flying once a week at Hogwarts. The returning and new students were eager to get to school where they could see Harry Potter in person from time to time and ponder the amazing story of his life. With luck, maybe he’d tell them even more stories than were in the books. Conversely, the Potter and Weasley children, having heard many parts of the stories from Hermione, didn’t bother to read more than bits of the first book — they had too many fun things to do before starting Hogwarts to stay inside reading, nor were they greatly impressed with their parents’ fame — Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were just “Mum and Dad” or “Aunt and Uncle” to these kids, nobody “special” the way they were to other children in the wizarding world. During the Welcome Feast, the students were delighted to learn that Harry Potter would not only teach the flying class on Tuesdays but would also be their new Transfiguration professor. They’d get to see him every day during the week! An excited buzz flowed across the Great Hall when that announcement was made. A similar buzz had filled the Hall when the older students saw the new First Years trooping in. In the middle of the pack were two boys with black hair, green eyes and slight dimples in their chins, the spitting image of Professor Potter. They had to be his sons! Almost as fascinating to stare at were the four identical redheads, who were sticking close to the Potter boys and one other redhead who looked enough like the other four to be their brother. Fred and George’s boys truly looked like quadruplets, and took great delight in fooling people about who was who. The only ones at Hogwarts who would ever be able to tell them apart were their brothers and cousins — and their Uncle Harry. Even the Lupin children, who had grown up as part of the Potter-Weasley clan, had trouble knowing which twin was which. Ron and Hermione’s son, Richard, looked like Ron but had Hermione’s temperament and personality. He, Jamie and Siri were best friends and went everywhere together People at every House table craned their necks to see the Potter boys. Even the Slytherins hoped the Potter boys would be sorted into their House. Harry’s popularity as Flying Instructor crossed all House boundaries. He’d finally managed to create some unity among the houses, as he’d tried to so many years ago with his proposed All-Star Quidditch Game, which had become a fixture of the school calendar since he’d been teaching flying. All of the Potter and Weasley boys were sorted into Gryffindor, joining Remus and Tonks’ two children, Seventh Year Matt and Fifth Year Bonnie. Matt was Head Boy and Bonnie was a Prefect. The Gryffindor table rocked with cheers as each Potter or Weasley was sorted into their house. Each boy was welcomed to the table like a returning hero of some kind, which made all seven of them blush brightly. “They’re getting a wonderful welcome,” Remus murmured, leaning close to Harry. “I hope it doesn’t go to their heads,” Harry said, a parental line of worry appearing between his eyebrows. “I don’t expect your boys to become arrogant because they’re the sons of ‘the Great Harry Potter,’” Remus said with a laugh. Harry was still worried. “Look at all the attention they’re getting. Everyone’s staring at them.” “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Harry nodded. “Ginny and I talked about it, and tried to prepare them as much as we could.” “Good. They’ll be fine, Harry,” Remus assured him. “Matt and Bonnie will look after them. And they’ll all look after each other, too. You know that.” “I know,” Harry said, watching the reactions of the Gryffindors and even the students at other House tables as his boys settled into their seats. People were standing up to try to catch a glimpse of them. Harry sighed, then glanced at his godfather and gave him a sad smile. “I just don’t want them to go through what I did when I started here.” “They learn how to deal with your fame, Harry,” Remus told him. “They’ll be OK.” He squeezed the younger man’s arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry so much about them.” “And who are you to talk? I know you worried about Matt and Bonnie when they started here. I was here every Tuesday, remember?” Harry teased. “I remember. You’re just being a good dad,” Remus replied with an easy smile. “They’re growing up. Give them a bit of space to adjust. They’ll manage.” “OK,” Harry said, turning to watch his boys again. Their ears were pink with embarrassment at all the attention they were getting, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Maybe everything would be okay. He hoped so. After the Welcome Feast, all of the First Years clustered in the Gryffindor Common Room, waiting to be told where their rooms were. Two Third Year boys shouldered their way into the nervous group of new students, stopping in front of Jamie and Siri. “You’re Professor Potter’s kids, aren’t you? You look just like him,” the bigger boy said, offering his hand to Siri. “He’s a cool teacher. I’m Mark Stevens.” “Hi. I’m Siri, that’s Jamie,” Siri replied shyly as he shook the older boy’s hand. The other Third Year was having the same conversation with Jamie. “Siri? What the bloody hell kind of name is that? It sounds like a sodding girl’s name,” a rough voice called from just behind the Third Years. He and two other bullies moved toward the Potter boys. Siri swallowed hard and moved closer to his twin, who was also looking up at the hulking boy now towering over them. “It’s short for Sirius. Jamie’s short for James. We’re named after our grandfather and our dad’s godfather. Our family uses nicknames for us to avoid confusion,” Siri explained as calmly as he could. “Did you just say our cousin has a girl’s name?” Tim, Fred’s oldest boy shouted over Siri’s quiet reply, his hands already fisted. “Yeah, I did,” the rough-voiced boy snarled. “What are you going to do about it?” “This!” Tim cried, then leaped onto the aggressive older boy with his twin and twin cousins right behind him. Not wanting to be left out, Jamie and Siri joined right in, with Richard standing aside wearing a worried frown that would have made Hermione proud — at first. When he saw his cousins were holding their own against the three bullies, he joined in, throwing punches with the best of them. You didn’t grow up in as big and rowdy a family as the Weasleys without learning how to fight properly. “Stop it right now!” snapped Bonnie Lupin, pointing her wand at the mass of writhing boys. “All right, that’s enough,” Matt Lupin said as he waded into the melee and started to pull Weasleys and Potters out of the pile. “Give over, lads, you’ve taught them a lesson they won’t soon forget,” he added, laughing as he tucked a squirming Weasley twin and a still-furious Potter twin under each arm and deposited them firmly in squashy armchairs by the fire. “Stay there!” he ordered those two as he went back to pull more bodies from the still fighting pile. “Enough!” Bonnie cried, shooting water from her wand into the scuffle, getting her brother and several other non-combatants wet at the same time. “Bloody hell, Bonnie, watch where you’re aiming that!” Matt growled. He had another set of twins, matched or mismatched, he didn’t care which, under his arms. He plonked them down near the fireplace to dry off and went back to get the last three out of trouble. “What’s going on in here?” Remus said as he came through the portrait hole. He was Head of House for Gryffindor now that Professor McGonagall was Headmistress. “Sorry, Dad,” Matt said, sighing as he set another pair of Weasleys on their feet, then grabbed the arm of the last Potter twin and pulled him to the side with the rest of his family. Jamie snatched his sleeve away from Matt’s hand and stood next to his twin, his hands still fisted, his nose bloody and a beautiful black eye beginning to bloom. Siri and the Weasleys were all in about the same condition and continued state of rage. Matt looked them over and shook his head, giving his father a wry grin. “We had a spot of bother here.” Remus looked at the unrepentant faces of the quads, as the family called Fred and George’s oldest sets of twins, then at Richard, whose face was still a furious red, then at Jamie and Siri, who bore identical resentful looks as they glared at an older boy across the Common Room. Remus turned to the older boy. “What happened, Mr. Gedding?” “Nothing,” the boy said, his tone and attitude surly as he wiped blood from his nose with his thumb. “Did you provoke these boys somehow?” Remus demanded. “I know them. They usually get along well with everyone. What caused the fight?” “They’re just titchy gits, that’s all,” Gedding replied. He was an angry, round-shouldered hulk of a boy, covered in pimples and with thin, greasy hair. His two buddies weren’t much better. Everyone wondered how they got into Gryffindor in the first place. “They may be little, but they’re not gits,” Remus said sternly. “They’re First Years. You older students are supposed to help them settle in, not get in fistfights with them their first night here!” He glared at the bullies, then turned to the Head Boy, doing his best not to grin at the Weasleys, who were calmer now and were comparing black eyes and other injuries with pride. The Potter boys looked unsettled and confused as well as angry. Remus sighed, then turned his eyes from them to his son. “Mr. Lupin? What can you tell me about this?” “I’m not sure what started it,” Matt replied. “I was beginning to give out room assignments, and then noticed the raised voices and before I knew it, they were fighting.” “Who started it?” Remus asked. Matt shrugged, not wanting to rat on his adopted cousins. Remus turned to Jamie and Siri. Siri looked the most uneasy, so he would probably be the easiest to get the story out of. “Siri?” “What?” Siri snapped, his angry, stubborn expression exactly like his father’s. “What happened? Who started it? And are you all right?” Remus asked, growing more concerned. Harry’s boys were normally cheerful and easy-going. “My name’s Sirius,” Siri snarled. “Oh, my apologies, Mr. Potter,” Remus said, suppressing a smile. “Sirius. I will remember.” “Thank you,” Siri said, relaxing a bit. His shoulders drooped as he looked up at his father’s godfather with sad eyes. “And I’m James,” Jamie declared hotly, still glaring furiously at the bullies. “I understand,” Remus agreed. “You do?” Jamie said, startled into looking up at the man. “Yes, I do,” Remus said with a smile. He now had a good idea what had happened and no longer needed the young boys. He turned and glowered at Gedding and his chums, then said to his son, “Mr. Lupin, do you have the room assignments for these boys?” “Yes, Professor,” Matt replied. “Then take them upstairs while I deal with Mr. Gedding and his friends.” “Right,” Matt replied. “You lot, come with me,” he said, gesturing to the Weasleys and Potters. “All of us?” Richard said. “I thought there were five to a room. There are seven of us.” “The quads will be in one room, you three in the next one up, and you’ll have some other roommates, as well. I’ll show you where you belong. Come on,” Matt said kindly, leading the cousins upstairs and getting them settled in their rooms. “A fight? Already?” Harry said when Remus told him about the incident the next morning before class. “Are they all right? What happened?” “They’re fine. They were rather proud of their battle scars. An older boy provoked your boys, and one of the quads actually started the fight,” Remus said, his eyes amused, “but nobody knows which one — and those who do know aren’t telling.” “Siri said his name is Sirius? Somebody must have made fun of his name,” Harry said sadly. “With all the odd names people give their children in the wizarding world, you wouldn’t think someone would pick on them for their names.” “Oscar Gedding started it,” Remus said, watching for Harry’s reaction. “My boys and the Weasleys took on Oscar Gedding?” Harry snorted with surprised laughter. “And all of them survived? That boy makes Crabbe and Goyle look dainty!” “They all survived, and they actually got the better of him and his two best friends,” Remus said, laughing as well. “They looked quite upset to be bested by ickle firsties in front of other people, even if it was seven against three.” “Those boys may try to get them alone and really hurt them,” Harry sighed, a worried frown on his face. “It’s possible. We’ll just have to keep an eye on Gedding. I gave him a week’s detention and took points away, as well.” “That’s about all you can do,” Harry agreed. Harry gave the First Years filing into his class a friendly smile. His smile faded when he saw nearly all of them stare at his scar, then look nervously at each other before tentatively taking seats as near the back as possible. He noticed many of them were giving his boys and the Weasleys a wide berth, as well. He sighed, then shook his head when he saw the injuries on the faces of his sons and nephews. Black eyes and minor cuts covered all seven of their faces. Fred and George’s boys were as cocky as their fathers and wore their wounds like badges of honour. Jamie and Siri — No, Harry corrected himself, James and Sirius — refused to meet his eye. Richard looked up at Harry warily, obviously aware that they should be in trouble with their normally easy-going uncle. “Good morning, class,” Harry began. A few muttered “good mornings” were scattered about the room, but the whole group seemed subdued even for First Years. “I’m Professor Potter, and this handsome fellow,” he added, gesturing to Merlin on his perch near Harry’s desk, “is Merlin. He’s my phoenix and will be with us in class most of the time. You are now in Transfiguration Class. We’ll be learning a lot of interesting things this year. Can any of you tell me what Transfiguration is?” Richard raised his hand hesitantly. Harry was surprised no one else even tried. “Yes, Richard?” “It’s changing one thing into another, Uncle Harry — I mean, Professor,” Richard said, his ears instantly flaming red. “Very good. Can you give me an example?” “Well, you can change from a man into a phoenix,” Richard said quietly, giving a Harry a look that plainly said, you know this, why are you asking? “That’s a good example, Richard. Five points to Gryffindor,” Harry said with a smile, grinning more broadly when he saw the delight on the face of Hermione’s son when he realized he’d won House Points in his very first class! “Can anyone else tell me another kind of transfiguration?” George’s oldest son, Sean raised his hand. “Yes, Sean?” “Our dads make joke products that transfigure,” Sean said proudly. “Wands into rubber chickens, swords into fish, hats into birds, and so on. And some of their sweets are Transfiguration Tasties, like the Canary Creams, Butterfly Bon-Bons and so on.” “Well done, Sean! Five more points to Gryffindor,” Harry said with approval. He turned to the Slytherin side of the room, where several hands were raised. “Yes?” “Is this how it’s going to be? You playing favourites with your family?” one boy demanded. “And your name is?” Harry prompted. “Steven Glass,” the boy said reluctantly. “Mr. Glass, I asked a question and the only raised hands I saw were Richard’s and Sean’s. If I’d said ‘Mr. Weasley’ instead of using their first names, there would be a great deal of confusion, since there are five ‘Mr. Weasleys’ in the room at the moment.” Harry said this with an easy smile. A small titter of laughter flitted through the Gryffindors in response to his comment. “It’s to my advantage that I know these boys, so I know who I’m calling on,” he added, giving his nephews a warning look. Tim was wadding up a piece of parchment and glaring at the Slytherins. Luke, his brother, saw Harry’s look and poked Tim, which made Tim subside with a guilty smile at his uncle. Harry raised one eyebrow at Tim, and the boy tossed his wadded up parchment in the waste bin, then sat with quill in hand, as innocent a look as possible on his face. Harry glanced around the room. They were still staring at him avidly. He sighed, the uncomfortable feeling of being studied like an interesting beetle washing over him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. His years of playing Quidditch had put him enough in the public eye so that people had become friendly toward him rather than just staring when they saw him. Now they were back to staring. He sighed again, then got back to work. “Transfiguration is changing one thing into another. They can be related objects, or completely unrelated. You can change only part of something rather than the whole thing, if you want. For instance,” he said, pulling a small cat and a rabbit out of wicker baskets on the floor and setting them gently on the desk, “I could use a Switching Spell to change the ears between these two animals.” He pulled out his wand and tapped each animal, resulting in a black cat with white bunny ears and a white bunny with black cat’s ears. “Like that.” The class laughed at the funny look on the cat’s face as it noticed its long ears. Harry smiled, glad they were beginning to relax with him a bit and get interested in the subject at hand. “Now, I’m sure they’d prefer their own ears, so I’ll switch them back,” he said, tapping them once more with his wand. Instantly, each animal had its own ears and looked quite relieved. Harry stroked both animals, soothing them a bit before putting them back in their baskets. “We’ll begin by turning toothpicks into sewing needles,” he said, then had two students pass around the toothpicks for each student to work with. Harry instructed them on how to do the spell, then walked around the class, giving individual help where needed. Patrick, George’s second son, managed to set his toothpick on fire twice, which made the whole class laugh. Patrick laughed the loudest and seemed quite proud of his singed eyebrows. Jamie was having trouble with the spell. As Harry bent over his son’s desk to help him, the boy hissed, “I can do it myself.” “Go on, then,” Harry said, straightening up. His son’s attitude puzzled him. Jamie and Siri were affectionate children and normally loved any lessons Harry gave them, from flying to simple magic to working with tools to make mosaics, birdboxes and flowerboxes. Jamie was not acting like himself at all, nor was Siri, who had a similar reaction when Harry stopped later on to help him. The Weasleys were all their normal, cheerful selves if a bit more withdrawn than usual. The next time Harry stopped by his sons’ desk, he looked around the room and made sure everyone was fully engrossed in their work before murmuring, “See me after class, both of you.” “Why? We haven’t done anything wrong,” Jamie whispered defensively. “Did I say you had?” Harry replied. He held Jamie’s gaze for a long moment before the boy dropped his eyes. “No,” Jamie admitted. “I won’t keep you long,” Harry promised. When class was over, Harry leaned against the front of his desk waiting for the room to clear before speaking to his boys, who stood before him with rebellious expressions. When they were finally alone, Harry said, “What’s going on with you two? You’re both acting oddly. What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” they said at once. “Are people giving you a hard time because you’re my sons?” Both boys stood silently, eyes downcast. “Is that it or not? I know a boy made fun of your names. That’s just silly — his name’s ‘Oscar,’ after all. That’s a kind of fish, you know,” he said, hoping to get them to relax and smile a bit. “But James and Sirius are more grown-up names than Jamie and Siri. You’re old enough to choose which name you want to use.” “Lupin,” Jamie said immediately. Harry sighed. He’d been afraid of this. “May I ask why?” he said, doing his best to be patient. Both boys remained stubbornly silent for a few minutes, but then Siri blurted, “Everyone’s read those books, or their parents have told them stories about you.” He sounded hurt and angry. “And why is that a problem?” Harry said, keeping his voice reasonable and calm. “You’ve always known that I’m famous. It’s never bothered you before. I didn’t choose to be famous. I’d love to be just a teacher at Hogwarts, nobody any more important than that. But I can’t change who I am — nor can you, no matter how much you might want to.” The boys didn’t respond for several minutes, and then Jamie snarled, “Are you finished? May we go now?” Harry sighed. “Yes, go ahead. But work on your attitudes, boys. This resentment or whatever it is will hurt your grades. You barely participated in class today.” Siri looked up at him, his green eyes furious. “Right. Pull the teacher thing on us.” “The teacher thing?” “Threaten us with bad grades, detention, all that stuff,” Jamie said, as angry as his brother. “Unfortunately for you, I am your teacher, and if I say something about your grades or detention, I must have a good reason for it. You’re just going to have to accept that.” “May. We. Go. Now,” Jamie said stiffly. “Yes, go on,” Harry said, realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with them in such a mood. As the weeks went by, Jamie and Siri continued to be sullen. Richard finally grew annoyed with them and asked to be put in the quads’ room. The Potter twins and Richard were no longer the trio they’d been all of their lives, which saddened Harry and Remus, as well as Richard’s parents and Ginny. “I don’t know what’s going on with them, or why they’re behaving this way,” Harry told Remus at lunch one day. His boys were sitting by themselves at the Gryffindor table, not even a Weasley nearby. “They seemed to be popular at first, but they’re isolating themselves now for some reason. I can’t get a straight answer from anyone about what the problem might be.” “Nor can I,” Remus said, sighing. “I wish I could help you, Harry. They seem to be miserable.” “And they aren’t writing home at all. Ginny’s as worried about them as I am,” Harry said, sighing. He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration, messing it up even more than normal. “Is it me? Have I done something to offend them? Maybe I shouldn’t have taken this job.” “It isn’t you, Harry, it’s them. Whatever is bothering them has nothing to do with your teaching. You’re an excellent teacher,” Remus assured him. “They’re just having a harder time adjusting than most children, I suppose.” “Maybe we over-protected them,” Harry mused. “We tried so hard to keep them safe. . .” “Stop blaming yourself,” Remus said, clapping the younger man on his shoulder. “All kids go through phases where they resent their parents or wish they were someone else. They’ll get over it in time.” Harry looked at his godfather, his aching heart in his eyes. “I miss them, Remus. We’ve always been so close.” “I know. They’ll come around, Harry. They’re good boys, and they know you love them. Give them a bit of space to work through whatever’s bothering them.” “You’ve learned a lot with your kids,” Harry said with a slight smile. Remus chuckled. “That’s actually a lesson I learned from being your godfather. There were many times you wouldn’t talk about what was bothering you and I just had to wait until you were ready to talk to find out what was wrong.” “How did you stand the wait?” Harry said miserably. “It’s what parents do,” Remus said, squeezing his godson’s shoulder as he got up from the table. “You’ll be fine, and so will they.” “I hope you’re right,” Harry sighed, gazing at his sons sitting so small and alone at the end of the Gryffindor table. His heart ached for them, but if he gave them special attention, he knew there were other students who would taunt them mercilessly about it. When he’d asked his nephews why they were no longer friendly with his sons, they just said, “Because they’re acting like gits,” and would say no more. His nephews were still friendly toward him, still cheerful, cheeky and a pleasure to teach, but his own sons were anything but a pleasure to be around these days. Gits, indeed. Harry resisted the urge to use Legilimency on his boys to find out what was troubling them so, but they seemed to be growing more tense and angry, not less. They were failing spectacularly in his class and not doing much better in any of their other classes. The only academic activity they were successful with was Flying Class. Despite Harry being the teacher, they flew with joy and abandon, just like their father. It helped that he’d taught all of his children to fly when they were very young. All were competent fliers by the age of seven. The Weasley boys weren’t far behind them. The Weasley-Potter clan had regular Quidditch games with every generation as involved as they wanted to be, which meant they often had many more Chasers on a team than required, since all of the children and most of the adults wanted to play. “It’s not fair!” Peter Robinson, one of Jamie’s and Siri’s roommates grumbled in class the second week of Flying Class. He was still trying to get his broom to lift off the ground into his hand, while Potters and Weasleys soared overhead. Most of the rest of the class had at least hovered successfully, and many of them were now flying slow circles at low altitude, getting the feel of their brooms. “What’s not fair?” Harry said calmly, reasonably certain he knew the answer. “Your kids and nephews have professional Quidditch players as dads and uncles!” the boy grumbled. “Of course they can all fly well! My parents wouldn’t let me near the broom shed.” “We couldn’t keep them out of the broom shed,” Harry admitted with a rueful grin. Harry’s honesty earned a shocked look from the boy. “Really? But you’re the most powerful wizard in the world! Didn’t you put wards on the shed?” Harry shrugged, as if his power had nothing to do with protecting his broom shed. “I didn’t want to put any wards on the shed that might hurt them. They managed to get around the Locking Spell we put on it. I suppose they overheard one of us setting it and worked out how to reverse it. My wife and I decided it was better to teach them how to handle brooms safely than to let them get hurt trying to sneak a ride.” He chuckled a bit. “My wife sneaked broom rides all the time when she was little. Fortunately, she didn’t get hurt badly or often, but there are racing brooms from my Quidditch days in our broom shed. If the children managed to get one of those going, they could be seriously hurt. We taught them to fly early to keep them as safe as possible.” He patted the boy on the shoulder comfortingly. “I know some incredible fliers who couldn’t get the broom to lift for them at all for the first couple of classes. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Let’s try it again. Here, I’ll stand behind you and watch. Maybe I can spot what you’re doing wrong.” “OK,” the boy agreed. He sighed, then squared his shoulders and held his hand out, looking over his shoulder at Harry before trying again. “Keep your eyes on the broom. Concentrate on it and believe it when you say ‘Up,’” Harry instructed. He watched as the boy tried again. The broom vibrated a bit, but didn’t move. “Concentrate, Mr. Robinson,” Harry reminded him, then opened his hand slightly and sent the broom into the boy’s hand. Peter’s face lit up. “I did it! I did it!” he cried excitedly. “Yes, you did!” Harry said, patting him on the back encouragingly. “Now put it down and try it again. Repeating a spell right away helps you learn it more quickly.” He put his hands on his hips, certain the boy could do it himself this time now that he had some confidence about it. “OK,” Peter said, putting the broom back on the ground, then holding his hand out confidently and saying “UP!” The broom sprang to his hand with no help from Harry at all. “I did it!” “Yes, you did,” Harry said, smiling. “Now mount it and kick off very gently. I just want you to hover, so you can get a feel for the balance required.” “OK,” Peter said, a huge grin on his face. Before long, he was cruising around at low altitude, low speed, but with a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Thanks, Professor!” he said as he flew past Harry. “Well done, Peter!” Harry said, grinning at his newest flier. Richard landed next to Harry. “You helped him, didn’t you, Uncle Harry?” he murmured. Harry looked at his nephew and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “He needed a little boost in his confidence. I gave him that. Then he was able to do it by himself. Don’t tell on me, OK?” Richard grinned up at him. “OK. I like Peter. I’m glad he finally got it. Some older kids were calling him a squib because he couldn’t get his broom to lift.” “That’s really unfair of them,” Harry said with a frown. “Everybody has trouble with something. Even your mum, who was the best in school at everything, had trouble learning some spells at first. And we don’t even want to talk about your dad and me! If it weren’t for your mum, we wouldn’t have survived our early years here.” Richard smiled. His uncle rarely said much about his childhood. Any such revelation from Uncle Harry was a treat. “She’s still fussed that she never got the Animagus transformation.” “Is she still working on it?” Hermione hadn’t said anything about her failure at the Animagus transformation in a long time. “Every so often, yeah.” “I expect she’ll get it someday. She’s certainly tried hard enough.” “What do you think she’ll be?” Richard asked. “She makes a cute poodle,” Harry said, grinning at the memory, “but she probably has other ideas.” He looked up at his fliers, then back down at his nephew. “You only have a few more minutes of class, Richard. Get back up there and practice, OK?” “OK.” Richard kicked off and flew up to where the quads were encouraging their classmates to try more difficult manoeuvres. Harry arrived among them and got everyone working on appropriate exercises before some of the new fliers got hurt trying to emulate the Potter/Weasley clan. Harry reined in his nephews and sons with good humour, which was one of the reasons Flying Class was every student’s favourite hour of the week. At the end of class, Harry called everyone in and told them to put their brooms away. As they walked back into the castle, Harry saw Jamie and Siri walking ahead of him. They were talking animatedly, looking like their normal, cheerful selves for the first time in what seemed like ages. Harry smiled, glad to see them happy again. “Wicked class, Uncle Harry!” Tim said as he and the other quads caught up with him. They were already starting their growth spurts. It seemed they were going to be tall like their fathers. “Thanks for showing us how to do that spiral roll. It was great!” Jamie and Siri turned and smiled at their father. “Yeah, it was fun!” they agreed, dropping back to walk with their cousins and dad. They joined their cousins in a happy discussion of the advanced moves Harry had shown them to keep them occupied while he helped the beginning fliers. Harry listened to the happy chatter around him, his heart warmed by his sons finally acting like the boys he loved so much. Now, if he could just work out how to get their flying prowess to translate to academic skills, everything might be all right. In Transfiguration Class a few weeks later, Jamie, Siri and several other students were having a difficult time doing the required spell. No matter how hard they tried, they were having no success at all — and in Jamie and Siri’s cases, they simply weren’t trying very hard. Harry sighed, knowing if he tried to help them, they’d resent it, but if he didn’t, they’d fail the class, which they were close to doing already. He stopped by their desk and squatted in front of it. “Let’s see, then,” he encouraged them. “It doesn’t work,” Jamie grumbled, waving his wand haphazardly. “Sometimes you seem to be related more to your Uncle Ron than to me,” Harry said with a grin. “He used to do the same thing when he got frustrated.” Jamie looked up at his father, startled. “What do you mean?” “The way you’re waving your wand. It’s just what your Uncle Ron would do.” “What did you do?” Siri asked, openly curious rather than resentful for once. “I just kept doing it wrong over and over, until either the teacher or your Aunt Hermione corrected me. So since Aunt Hermione isn’t here, and I’m the teacher, how about letting me show you how to do it?” “OK,” Siri said, looking grumpy again. “It’s more of a curved wave, like this,” Harry said, demonstrating with his own wand. The hedgehog on Siri’s desk immediately became a pincushion. Harry changed it back and gave his son an encouraging look. “Now you try.” Siri bit the inside of his cheek, concentrated hard and tried again, with no luck. “Grip your wand more tightly,” Harry suggested. “Have another go.” Siri tried again, gripping his wand firmly. Suddenly, the wand became an animated rubber halibut, which Siri dropped instantly. It flopped dispiritedly on the ground, dragging the trick wand behind it. The class erupted in laughter, which stilled when Harry stood up and glared around the room. “Weasleys,” Harry said, his voice stern as he looked at his nephews. “Who substituted a Wheezes wand for Sirius’s?” All the redheads had innocent faces. Harry glanced around the room, then back at his sons. Jamie was looking at his wand oddly. “What?” Harry said. “Is mine a Wheeze wand too?” the boy asked. “Grip it firmly and give it a wave,” Harry said kindly. When Jamie held the wand firmly and gave it a strong wave, it turned into an animated rubber parrot that instantly began squawking, making the class laugh again. Harry vanished both trick wands, then straightened, glaring at his still-giggling nephews. “Well?” He waited, but received only innocent looks in reply. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be, Accio Jamie’s wand. Accio Siri’s wand,” he said, then caught the wands neatly when they flew to him from Tim’s and Luke’s bags. “Detention, Tim and Luke. See me after class.” “But Uncle Harry!” Tim began. “They were being gits!” Luke added. “They deserved it!” they said together. “And you deserve detention,” Harry said sternly. “Have you done this to anyone else?” This time, there were guilty looks on their faces. He turned to the class and said, “Accio Weasley Wizard Wheezes wands.” Five more wands flew to his hands. He turned to his nephews and held out his hand expectantly. Tim and Luke dug in their bags and placed five real wands in Harry’s hand. “That’s a week’s detention and fifteen points each from Gryffindor.” “Thirty points!” Luke cried. “But Uncle Harry–” “That’s Professor Potter in here, Luke, you know that,” Harry replied, “and you deserve the punishment I gave you. Don’t do this kind of thing — or anything else with Wheezes products that will disrupt class — again.” He gave the real wands to their owners and set the class back to work, then squatted in front of his sons’ desk again. “OK, now that you’re properly equipped, let’s have another go.” Both boys sighed dispiritedly, then tried again. “Grip your wand a bit more firmly, James,” Harry encouraged his son. When Jamie obeyed him, suddenly his hedgehog turned into a pincushion. Jamie sat back, his eyes wide in shock. He’d never succeeded so quickly before. “Well done!” Harry said, grinning at his son. “Did you do that?” Jamie said, looking at his father with sudden suspicion. “Absolutely not,” Harry replied. “Watch, I’ll reverse the spell, and then I’ll put my hands on your desk and not move them while you do it again. How’s that?” “OK,” Jamie said, looking quite uncertain about the whole thing. Once his father’s hands were flat on the desk, Jamie gripped his wand firmly and did the spell again. His hedgehog instantly turned into a pincushion. “I did it! I really did it!” “Yes, you did,” Harry said, giving the boy an approving pat on the shoulder. “What am I doing wrong?” Siri whinged, obviously still quite frustrated. “Show me what you’re doing,” Harry said, watching his son’s work closely. “OK, your wand isn’t pointing at the hedgehog, it’s wandering about. Aim the spell where you want it to go.” “I was,” Siri grumbled. “May I show you?” Harry offered. Siri nodded reluctantly. Harry did the wand movement very slowly and the hedgehog turned into a pincushion. “Did you see the shape of the movement?” he said as he reversed the spell. “Pay attention to that, it’s important. Try again.” Siri sighed, an uncertain look on his face. “You can do it,” Harry murmured. “Trust yourself.” Siri looked up at him, then gripped his wand firmly, a determined look on his face. He took a deep breath, waved his wand and the hedgehog became a pincushion, but it still had a hedgehog’s legs. The boy’s face lit up with delight. “I did it! Well, almost,” he amended, grabbing the pincushion as it raced toward the edge of his desk on frantic legs. “Yes, you did,” Harry said, a fond smile on his face. “I’m proud of you.” He reversed the spells on both boys’ pincushions and said, “Do it again. You’ll find it’s a lot easier each time.” They tried again and both of them succeeded this time, looking up at their father with shining eyes. “Wow! That’s so cool!” Jamie said, admiring his pincushion. “Yeah! Let’s do it again!” Siri enthused. Harry grinned, glad to see their natural enthusiasm finally returning. Suddenly, the castle shook. “What the–” Harry murmured as he strode to the window to look outside. He turned back to his class, many of whom were screaming in panic or chattering loudly. “Quiet! Everyone go to the far side of the room, away from the windows.” “Why? What’s going on?” someone asked as the students scurried to do what he’d said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re safer away from the windows,” Harry replied, glancing at his students to make certain they were staying where he wanted them to be. He moved to a window, opened it and leaned out, trying to see what had shaken the building. It shook again, nearly throwing him out of the opening. Many of his students shrieked again, while his sons and nephews were wide-eyed with fear. “Quiet!” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low. Harry glanced at his phoenix. “Merlin, would you go and see what’s happening?” The phoenix spread his wings and flew out of the window, quickly disappearing around the turret at the nearest corner. Headmistress McGonagall entered the room just then. “Professor Potter, a word, please? Ah good, you have the students away from the windows. Well done.” She looked quite agitated. “What’s going on?” Harry asked when she neared him. They stayed by the windows and spoke quietly, trying to avoid frightening the children any more than they were. The castle continued to rock, the concussions settling into a nearly steady rhythm. “There’s a dragon attacking Ravenclaw Tower,” McGonagall said, her dark eyes frightened. “Hagrid’s down. You’re the only other person at Hogwarts who has experience at handling dragons.” Harry’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, Hagrid’s down? And I stole an egg from one for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. That’s not experience in handling them — it’s experience in escaping them!” “It’s still more experience than any of the rest of us have,” she said tartly. “Hagrid’s hurt — he’s lying on the ground. I’ve already sent people out to see to him.” Harry’s heart constricted in fear for his friend. “Is he alive?” “He appears to be,” she replied. “Harry, I wouldn’t ask you to do this, especially alone, but we need help immediately and there isn’t anyone else. Charlie Weasley’s out of the country at the moment, isn’t he?” “Yes, he and his family are on holiday in Europe,” Harry replied, thinking hard. “Why would a dragon attack Ravenclaw Tower?” He heard gasps from some students who overheard his comment. “I have no idea,” McGonagall said, shaking her head. “Please, Professor?” a girl said timidly as she raised a shaking hand. “I think I know.” “What?” McGonagall snapped, frightening the girl. “What do you know, Harriet?” Harry said kindly. This girl was one of the many children who had been named after Harry Potter since he’d defeated Voldemort. “My brother’s in Ravenclaw. He said two boys were going to steal the watch dragon’s eggs,” she said nervously. “When were they going to do this?” McGonagall said sharply. “I don’t know,” the girl replied. “Merlin!” Harry called. The phoenix flashed into the classroom an instant later. “What did you learn?” Merlin chirruped at Harry for a moment, then was silent. “That’s what I thought,” Harry muttered, bracing himself as the castle shook again. “Go to Ravenclaw Tower. There should be two dragon eggs there, probably in a dormitory room. Flash them back to her nest. Put them back, then get out of there as fast as you can.” Merlin chirped something else that made Harry pause. “What is it?” McGonagall said, sensing Harry’s sudden increase in tension. “He can’t flash eggs — it could harm the babies,” he replied, his face grim. He swallowed hard, looked out of the window at the achingly blue sky for a long moment, then sighed. “OK, Merlin. I’ll distract her so you can fly them there.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Shrinking Charmed broom, an Excalibur Potter Special, currently the fastest broom in the world. He’d had it made to his specifications when he was still playing Seeker for the Lions. The broom company had added the Potter Special to its line of racing brooms. It was a popular broom, adding to Harry’s personal fortune with each sale. As he enlarged the broom, he heard gasps coming from his boys. “Dad?” Jamie said, his voice quavering anxiously. “What are you doing?” “Where are you going?” Siri asked at the same time. The castle shuddered again, much harder this time, making books fall off of the shelves and desks in Harry’s room, and two windows shatter. Children screamed and clustered together in frightened groups. James and Sirius Potter stayed glued in their seats near the far wall, their anxious eyes locked with their father’s. Harry strode over to their desk and wrapped his arms around them, kissing each of them on top of the head, breathing in the scent of the sons he loved so dearly. “I have to go lead this dragon away from the castle, boys. She’s going to hurt a lot of people if I don’t,” he said as he released them. “Why you?” Siri said in a shocked whisper. “I’m the one with the fastest broom,” Harry said with a cocky grin, which slid off of his face quickly. “You boys look after each other for me, and listen to Cousin Minerva.” “Dad, don’t go!” Jamie cried. “Dragons are dangerous!” “I know. I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” Harry said, ruffling their hair as he stepped back from them. He glanced up at his wide-eyed nephews and gave them a small wave, then bit his lip nervously as he looked at his boys again. He drew in a deep, calming breath and blew it out, forced a cocky grin again and said, “Transfiguration lesson” to his class as he changed his professorial robes into his London Lions Quidditch uniform. Calling, “Let’s go, Merlin!” he swung onto his broom and flew toward the windows at racing speed, vanishing the glass as he approached it. “DAD!” his boys cried, running to look out of the window, their hearts in their throats as they saw the “Potter 7” on the back of his uniform shrink until they could no longer read it as he flew away. Professor McGonagall put her arms around them and drew them away. “Your father will be back soon. You need to go back to your seats. It isn’t safe to be near the windows,” she said as kindly as she could. Jamie and Siri went back to their desk against the far wall and sat in terrified silence, their eyes glued to the windows, praying their father would be all right. Harry pressed the stone on his ring and murmured, “Ginny” as he neared the corner of the castle and slowed his broom. His wife’s face appeared above his ring just as he eased around the corner, trying to evaluate the situation before engaging the dragon in battle. “Hi, sweetie. Are you flying? Your hair’s blowing around,” Ginny said with a cheery smile. Then she looked at him more sharply. “What’s wrong? Are the boys all right? You look awful.” “Ginny, I have a problem here — the boys are fine, but I have to deal with an unhappy dragon,” he said, trying to make light of a very serious situation. “What do you mean, an unhappy dragon? Why isn’t Hagrid taking care of it? What are you doing?” “I have to lead her away from the castle. She’s attacking Ravenclaw Tower, making the whole castle shake. Stones are falling from the turrets, windows are breaking,” he explained. “I don’t have much time to talk. I just wanted–” His voice faded. He didn’t know what else to say. “Harry, be careful!” She knew better than to suggest he not face the dragon. He was doing what he felt he had to, and nothing she said would turn him from it. And knowing his heart, his tremendous sense of duty and honour, she’d never ask him, no matter how much she wanted him to be safe. She knew he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t do everything he could to deal with this problem. “I’ll do my best. I love you.” “I love you. I’ll be right there,” she said, already moving to grab her medical kit. “No, stay with the children,” Harry said. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he gasped. “Bloody hell. Gotta go,” he blurted, then signed off. The dragon had seen him and was headed right for him. “Merlin, go!” Harry cried as he wheeled his broom around and raced away, hoping the dragon would follow him. She followed him a short distance, then turned back to Ravenclaw Tower. “Bloody ruddy sodding damned hell,” Harry grumbled as he turned his broom and aimed it toward the dragon. He pulled out his wand and sent a Conjunctivitis Curse at her eyes, catching just the edge of one eye as she whipped her head around to spit flame at him. He turned his broom and raced away from the flame. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw he was going too fast — the dragon was losing interest and going back to the castle, already lashing her tail in preparation for smashing it into the castle walls again. Harry spiralled down toward her, picking his spot before sending a Stinging Hex at her sensitive eyes, the only place where a dragon was vulnerable to spells. With a roar of rage, the dragon came after him again. Harry maintained a sixty foot lead on her, staying just out of range of her flaming breath, yet still close enough to keep her interested. The dragon was a wily one, and broke off the chase when they were a distance from the castle. She turned, flying back toward the now partially demolished Ravenclaw Tower, but Harry cut across her path, sending another Stinging Hex at her eyes. With a roar of rage, she twisted in mid-air faster than thought, following him much too close for comfort. Her flames caught the tail of Harry’s broom on fire. He aimed a spout of water at the flames so close to his back, but kept missing because he had to zigzag so much to evade the dragon’s flames, yet stay close enough to her to keep her interested in the chase. Harry glanced toward the castle and finally saw Merlin emerge with two small things in his talons. They didn’t look like eggs. Oh no, he thought, the babies hatched. He knew baby dragons had little chance of survival if not hatched properly. His heart sank when as he studied the small animals in Merlin’s talons. They weren’t moving. He was certain they must be dead. Harry felt the heat from his burning broom tail on his back and concentrated on putting out the fire, finally managing it just as his cloak caught fire. He ripped it off and let it fall to the ground, fighting to control his now-tailless and rather unbalanced broom, then aimed more water on the back of his clothes, which he could feel were smouldering. The dragon was right on his tail, concentrating fully on him. That was fine with Harry for the moment — Merlin needed time to put the babies back in the nest. Whether the babies were dead or alive, once the dragon found them, she should settle down to do whatever dragons did for their babies — or so Harry hoped. When he saw a sudden bright light near Hagrid’s cabin, Harry knew Merlin had delivered his burden to the nest and flashed away. He saw his godfather and Snape glance up as they Levitated Hagrid’s body into his cabin below him. Harry couldn’t tell if Hagrid was alive from the quick glance he was able to spare him. Grim-faced, Harry pointed his broom at the nest, staying just in front of the dragon’s flaming breath. When he neared the nest, Harry raced straight up into the sky, hoping the dragon would see her young and settle down. She saw them, all right. She landed in her nest, crooning to her babies. Harry soared high overhead, watching to be certain she was going to stay there. He saw her nudge the small forms with her nose. The babies rolled over, their tiny bodies already stiff in death. With a horrible roar, the dragon lifted off and came straight at Harry, high above her. The chase was on again, and much more seriously this time. Harry tried to lead the dragon down the valley away from the school, but she suddenly broke off the chase and flew straight at Ravenclaw Tower again. Harry raced after her, determined to turn her before she demolished any more of the castle. He had no idea how many students might be trapped within the now nearly collapsed Tower, but it was possible that they could be saved if rescuers were given enough time without attack. He flew alongside her and sent another Stinging Hex at the dragon’s eyes to annoy her enough to pay attention to him, then turned his broom and flew away, trying to stay just barely out of her range again. Apparently, the dragon wasn’t interested in leaving the castle environs, no matter how Harry tried to tempt her. She flew along the wall as Harry circled back toward her. He could see his sons and nephews peering out of the window of his classroom. Minerva seemed to be so appalled at what he was doing that she wasn’t paying close attention to the class anymore. “Get back!” Harry cried as he sped past the windows. “It’s not safe there!” He didn’t wait to see if anyone obeyed him, because the dragon chose this moment to come after him again. Harry’s broom was shuddering now, and losing power due to its extensive damage. He didn’t know how much longer it would hold out. He bent low to the handle, trying to coax more speed out of his failing broom. A glance over his shoulder showed him the dragon was gaining on him. What the bloody hell am I going to do now? he thought, gasping in pain as a wall of flame seared his back. The flames from his burning robes licked his ear and the side of his face, even catching his hair on fire for a moment before he was able to douse the flames with water from his wand again. He groaned in agony but sped on, thinking frantically as he tried to come up with a way to protect the castle as well as survive the situation. “His broom’s losing power!” Jamie cried, watching his father with horrified eyes. He and his brother were on either side of Professor McGonagall, nearly hanging out of the window trying to keep track of the action outside. The Weasleys were standing with their faces pressed to the glass of the other windows. Most of the rest of the class was standing on desks trying to see above all the clustered heads filling the windows. It was obvious to anyone watching that Harry’s broom was failing. It was shuddering horribly and flying very erratically with no tail to balance it. Apparently the pedals were no longer functional, because Harry had to haul on it manfully to turn it, rather than it turning quickly in response to his command of the controls as it normally did. And it was slowing down quite obviously now, getting closer to the dragon’s flames every second. When Harry’s robes and hair caught fire, everyone in the room screamed until he got the flames put out. Now both the broom and Harry were very obviously in bad shape. Jamie reached into his pocket and pulled out his Shrinking Charmed broom. He said the password that automatically reversed the charm. Harry had given a broom to each of his children when they were very young, taught them the basics of flying and the password he’d put on the brooms that would enlarge them so the children would always have a way to escape if they were ever in danger. When his broom was full-sized, Jamie handed it to his headmistress. “Can you send this to Dad? I don’t know how,” he said simply. “Yes, James, I can. Well done,” she said with an approving smile. She Banished the broom, sending it to fly beside Harry, who was losing altitude as well as speed now. Everyone in the classroom held their breath, wondering if Professor Potter would be able to change brooms at the still-breakneck speed at which he was flying, with an angry dragon breathing flames literally down his neck. Harry was fighting with his badly damaged broom, urging every bit of speed out of it that he could, but he knew he was in serious trouble. Suddenly, a child-size broom appeared next to him. He took a deep breath and leaped onto the new broom, zooming off gratefully as his faithful Potter Special finally gave up and fell to earth. He grinned and waved up at the windows, knowing they were watching him and grateful for his son’s quick thinking. The broom was far too small for Harry’s lanky frame, but it was quick and agile and in good working order. It would simply have to do. The dragon seemed to feel she’d chased him far enough and turned back to the castle, heading straight for the now-demolished Ravenclaw Tower. Harry still wanted to lead the dragon away from the castle, so he circled around and approached her from the front, flying under her lengthwise, but low enough to avoid her flaming breath. He zipped up under her belly and bumped her hard with the front of the broom to get her attention, then raced away under her tail. He just missed being knocked off his broom by her tail as she whipped around to follow him. He headed toward the lake’s surface, wondering how he could get her head submerged just long enough to put out the flame — or would submerging her head put out her flame? He honestly didn’t know, but he had no other bright ideas at the moment. As they raced just above the lake’s surface, he glanced down and saw merpeople staring up at him and the dragon passing so close overhead. He turned when he reached the opposite shore, heading across the water in another direction. He still couldn’t think of a way to submerge her head — his broom wouldn’t work underwater, that was certain. For now, he was simply hoping to tire her out, since he had no way of defeating her that he could think of. He flew with his toes nearly skimming the water, wishing he was out here for fun instead of in deadly peril. As they neared the middle of the lake again, tentacles reached out of the water and coiled around the dragon. Sebastian had her body firmly wrapped up, but she was still flying well. The weight of the sixty-foot-long squid was a small burden to the forty-ton dragon. Sebastian moved his tentacles, trying to trap her wings. The dragon brought her back legs up and began ripping at the giant squid’s body and tentacles with her sharp claws. Moments later, the tattered remains of the faithful squid fell back to the lake with a resounding splash. “NO! Sebastian!” Harry cried when he saw what was left of the squid hit the water. Sebastian had sacrificed himself to try to help Harry, but he hadn’t slowed the dragon at all. His sacrifice was for nothing. Harry’s heart ached for the animal, which had always been sweet and playful with students, except for those boys who had put the Everlasting Sleep Curse on Harry and tried to drown him in his seventh year. Harry’s attention was torn from Sebastian’s floating, mangled body by a lick of flame searing his agonized back again. He got back to the serious work of dealing with the dragon, pushing the broom as fast as it would go while trying to put out the occasional fire in the shredded, scorched remnants of his robes. “Oh no,” Minerva McGonagall sighed. “Poor Sebastian.” “Sebastian?” one of the children said quietly. She turned and looked at the frightened, curious faces around her. “The giant squid. Those of you not near the windows may not have seen it. He tried to stop the dragon, but it killed him. Sebastian was a great friend of Professor Potter’s.” “The squid and Professor Potter were friends?” a boy asked in amazement. “How can that be?” Richard Weasley looked at the boy in amazement. “Didn’t you say you’d read my mother’s books? Uncle Harry can do a gill transformation so he can swim underwater for long periods. He and the squid used to play together when he was in school here.” Minerva McGonagall sniffled, then glanced around at the frightened children. “That’s right. He once told me Sebastian liked to be rubbed between the eyes,” she said, wiping angrily at the tears in her eyes. She’d had no idea the loss of the squid would hurt her so much. Jamie and Siri looked at each other when Professor McGonagall stepped away from the window a bit to answer the question about the squid. They had identically terrified looks on their faces. The squid was huge! If it couldn’t stop the dragon, then how could their father possibly do it? Tears welled in their eyes as they shared the thought, then turned back to watch the bitter contest between their dad and the dragon. Not only were his children’s brooms much too small for a grown man, but they were far slower and much less manoeuvrable than his racing broom. Harry was in serious trouble and he knew it. The dragon reminded him of this fact by setting the tail of his broom afire, the blaze catching the back of his robes again. He’d been scorched several times now, and his back and the backs of his legs were covered with blistered burns. He groaned with pain as he pointed his wand at his back and legs, putting out the fire once more, then had to grasp the broom handle tightly with both hands as the small broom began a horrible vibration. This broom wasn’t going to last much longer. Harry flew toward shore, hoping to at least set down on dry land when the broom gave out. The lake’s edge was covered with gravel that had been created when Harry was blowing up boulders while learning to use his new wand during his seventh year. There was no soft place to land, and the gravel would be terrible footing if he had to stand and fight. There were no nearby boulders to hide behind. He scanned the area, looking for a better place to land. The dragon swerved suddenly and lashed out with her tail, breaking the broom in two. Harry was stunned by the blow, his head reeling, barely aware of the ground sixty feet below rushing up toward him. “DAD!” Siri screamed. His heart was pounding so hard, it felt as if it would burst out of his chest as he watched his father fall to earth. He felt frozen, horror-stricken, broken-hearted. Siri was the tender one of the pair. Jamie was the practical one. “SIRI!” Jamie cried, pointing his wand at his father. “We can do this!” Siri understood immediately and pulled out his wand. Together, the twins said, “Arresto Momentum!” a spell their father had taught each of his children when they’d learned to fly. “Good idea, boys,” McGonagall said, shaken out of her shock by their action. She added her spell to theirs. All three of them held their wands on Harry, slowing his descent as well as they could at such a distance. Harry shook his head, trying to clear his senses. Someone was trying to keep him from crashing. He added his own spell to soften his landing and hit with a dull thud rather than a bone-crunching crash. He groaned as he rolled onto his side and pushed himself into a sitting position, then waved toward the castle, knowing someone there was watching out for him. He looked up as a shadow loomed over him. The dragon was landing, intent on finishing him off. “Bloody hell,” Harry grumbled as he staggered to his feet. “Now what?” He stumbled a bit as the gravel rolled beneath his feet, then moved to higher ground, above the gravelled edge of the lake where the dragon stood, weaving her head at him as if deciding where to bite him first. Harry staggered away from her, cursing the burns in his back and legs that were now hindering his movement. “Merlin,” he murmured, more a curse than a call for his phoenix, but suddenly Merlin was there with him, sitting on his shoulder. Harry’s repeated spells had nearly blinded the dragon in one eye, so he tried to stay on her blind side as he moved quietly away from her. “Thanks,” Harry said, stroking Merlin gratefully as it poured tears over his pain-ridden back. “Listen, I’m glad you’re here. You’ve given me an idea. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He spoke to the bird for a moment while keeping a careful eye on the dragon. As the phoenix lifted off, Harry pointed his wand back toward the castle, cried, “Accio sword!” then stood waiting for it to arrive. To his horror, he saw Ginny running across the grounds right in the path where the sword would be flying. “GINNY! GET DOWN!” he cried, then screamed again as the dragon’s flames reached him once more. He doused the flames with water from his wand as he hobbled away from the dragon as quickly as he could. Ginny hit the ground as soon as she heard him call out to her. Seconds later, her hair fluttered in the breeze caused by Godric Gryffindor’s sword flying over her. When it passed her, she looked up and studied her husband’s condition with a practiced healer’s eye. The unsteadiness of his movements made her shudder with horror. His Quidditch robes were in smouldering tatters, his back exposed and showing terrible burns that had to be excruciating. The backs of his legs weren’t in much better condition. Normally so quick on his feet or a broom, Harry was crippled now and would not be able to run away from the dragon. But, being Harry Potter, he wouldn’t run, he wouldn’t Disapparate, he wouldn’t try to escape. He’d face the monster and do his very best to defeat it in order to protect everyone else. As she watched, he caught the sword and turned to face the oncoming beast. “Oh, Harry,” she moaned, “what are you going to do now?” “MUM!” both Potter twins cried. “What’s she doing here?” Jamie said. He looked at his twin. “Did you call her?” “No. Did you?” Their parents had given each of the children one of Harry’s Famous Wizard cards with the Communication Charm installed so they could contact their parents or each other as needed. Jamie and Siri had made good use of these cards in detention since they’d started Hogwarts. “No. Dad must’ve done it,” Jamie concluded, then stilled as his mother fell to the ground and a sword zoomed over her head. “What–” “Oh, well done, Harry!” McGonagall murmured approvingly. “What’s he doing?” Tim Weasley asked. “I don’t get it.” “He’s summoned the sword of Godric Gryffindor so he can kill the dragon,” McGonagall said, not nearly as calm as she sounded. “But how’s he going to get that close?” Richard Weasley said nervously. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he has a plan,” she assured him. “We need to go help him,” Jamie said determinedly, turning toward the door. “Oh, no, you don’t,” McGonagall said sternly as she grabbed his shoulder with a firm hand. “Your father has enough to deal with without worrying about you boys. You can see even your mother is keeping her distance. If she got any closer, she’d distract him. He’d get hurt trying to protect her. You stay here and let him finish the job.” The boys gave her a rebellious look, but subsided into terrified silence when they looked out of the window again. Harry kept a close eye on the dragon’s movements. He limped into the shelter of some rocks some distance away when she approached him, then stepped out just long enough to hit her with a strong Stinging Hex in her blind eye. She roared in pain and shook her head hard, then looked up because Merlin was pecking at the other eye. He pecked just enough to annoy her, not blind her, then flew high in the air above her, luring her upward. The dragon couldn’t decide if she wanted to kill Harry or Merlin first. She dropped her front legs back to the ground with a resounding thud, then started after Harry again, only to be immediately distracted by Merlin pecking her eyelid once more. With a roar of rage and pain she reared straight up on her hind legs, shooting flame at the phoenix above her. She stretched her body upright as high as she could, moving faster than anything that big should be able to, and caught the phoenix in her flame. With a small cry, Merlin fell to earth, his body disappearing in the long grass near the edge of the lake. While Merlin distracted the dragon, Harry ran as hard as his injuries would allow and lifted Gryffindor’s sword, crying “Prolato!” as he shoved it between the plates on her stomach into the tender skin beneath them. Stretching her body to reach Merlin had separated the plates wide enough for the sword’s blade to enter her body easily. Harry’s spell lengthened the sword’s blade tremendously, growing long enough to slice through nearly half of the thickness of the dragon’s body. Harry threw his entire weight against the sword’s grip, shoving it sideways as hard as he could to do maximum damage inside the dragon. When he felt the beast beginning to react, he reversed the Lengthening Spell, withdrew the sword and began running for his life as the animal began to collapse. The dragon clutched at her belly with her front legs, raking Harry’s back and side with her claws as she did so, cutting him to the bone. Harry screamed and fell, the sword and his wand by his side. Harry could feel the dragon’s huge body coming toward him in what seemed like slow motion. With an agonizing effort, he grabbed his wand and rolled onto his back, screaming again as horrible pain washed over him. He bit off the scream and ground his teeth in determination, calling on every ounce of his magic as he pointed his wand at the dragon above him. “Arresto Momentum!” he cried as his golden aura burst forth around him in a brilliant halo. The dragon’s fall slowed a bit, and he rolled over and tried to crawl away, dragging the sword with him. He was too weak to get to his feet again. “What’s that?” Tim said in shock when he saw the golden aura around his uncle. “That’s his aura,” Professor McGonagall explained, trying to keep her voice steady. She, the Potter twins and the Weasleys who knew the spell had all added their Arresto Momentum charms to Harry’s, but at such a distance, and with the dragon’s tremendous weight, they weren’t having much effect. “His aura?” someone asked. “Not all wizards have them — just those who have been through the Refiner’s Fire, as he has. It shows when he uses his full power and he isn’t in complete control of it for some reason,” she replied. “His aura rarely shows, but in the heat of battle, particularly when he’s injured, he simply can’t expend the energy it takes to conceal it.” “He’s barely moving,” Jamie breathed. “He’s not going to get out in time.” “Have faith in your father, James,” McGonagall said with more assurance than she felt. “He’s come through many a tough situation before this.” “OK,” Jamie said in a small voice. He glanced down at his mother and saw she had her wand out too, but he couldn’t tell what kind of charm she was doing. McGonagall tried a Summoning Charm, but the dying dragon’s wing flailed just then, and that impenetrable hide simply made the spell bounce off. The movement of the wing made Minerva think her charm had actually pulled the dragon a bit farther over Harry. She raised her wand in horror, then tried a Banishing Charm, but the dragon was simply too much mass for her to move alone, especially at such a distance. She could see other spells bouncing off the dragon’s hide as teachers and students watching from other parts of the castle tried to help Harry. Nothing was working. Ginny, too, had used Arresto Momentum. All the charms in the world weren’t going to hold forty tons of dragon off her husband for long, so she switched to a Summoning Charm to pull him away from the danger. Just as she cast it, though, the dragon’s flailing claws caught in his robes and held him fast. “Draconus Exumai!” Ginny cried, trying to throw the dragon’s claws away from Harry. The spell came too late. The dragon’s foot moved away from Harry, but she crashed to earth with his body beneath hers. “HARRY!” Ginny screamed, tears streaming down her face. “NO! You are NOT leaving me now! NO!” She pointed her wand at the dragon, crying, “Mobilicorpus!” but the charm didn’t budge the beast at all. She tried again and again, with no results. She fell to her knees sobbing brokenly, but still trying to cast spells to free her husband from the dragon’s body. Dumbledore ran down the hill, having just arrived from a meeting in London. “Ginny! Where’s Harry? Your mother said–” he said as he approached the grieving woman. “He’s . . . he’s under there,” she said, pointing to the dragon with a shaky hand. The students and staff were pouring out of the castle now that the dragon was dead. They gathered around the fallen beast, the heartbroken woman and the wizened old man in a silent circle of grief. Jamie and Siri ran to their mother while the Weasleys gathered around Dumbledore, all of their faces white with shock. “Mum? We need to get Dad out from under the dragon,” Jamie said, shaking his mother’s shoulder gently. “I tried,” Ginny whispered, still pointing her wand at the fallen beast but no longer casting any spells. “I couldn’t budge her.” “If we all do it together,” Jamie said stoutly, “we can do it!” “That’s a good idea, James,” Dumbledore said, smiling at his great-great-great grandson. He glanced at Fawkes, who had arrived with him, then turned to the gathered students and staff. He pointed his wand at his throat and said “Sonorus.” Soon his magnified voice filled the castle grounds. “Thank you for coming out. We need your help. When I count to three, everyone do your Levitation Charm and hold it while Mrs. Potter summons her husband out of there. Ready? One, two, three!” With one voice, hundreds of people said, “Wingardium Leviosa!” Fawkes grabbed the huge thumb claw on the front of the dragon’s wing, the only thing small enough for him to grasp in his talons, and lifted with all his might. Dumbledore put everything he had into the charm, and was soon surrounded by the pale gold aura of his aging Refiner’s Fire powers at maximum strength. His silver hair and beard whipped in a wind of his own creation as he held the charm with every ounce of his waning powers. The Potter twins, the Weasleys, the staff and students all held wands shakily or steadily toward the dragon. Harry was well-liked as both a Transfiguration teacher and flying instructor, even by the Slytherins, who wholeheartedly joined in casting the charm. Incredibly, inch by painful inch, the dragon began to lift off of Harry’s body. Ginny stood and watched the dragon’s body moving in disbelief. Suddenly, in the dragon’s shadow she saw the messy black hair of the man she so loved, his body barely covered by the tattered remnants of blood-red Quidditch robes. “Accio Harry!” she shouted, sobbing with relief when his bloody, mangled body arrived at her feet. The gathered witches and wizards lifted their charm, allowing the dragon to fall back to earth with a resounding crash, as Ginny knelt beside her husband, Vanished what was left of his Quidditch robes, shoes and trousers, and began examining him. “How is he?” Siri asked timidly. “He’s badly hurt,” Ginny said, scrubbing tears from her face and forcing herself to act professionally. “Jamie, hand me my bag,” she said to the twin nearest her medical kit. Jamie handed her the bag and knelt beside her, across his father’s body from his twin, who was gently touching Harry’s upturned right hand. “Mum?” Siri said after a moment. “His hand’s burned.” “He’s burned all over, son,” she replied distractedly. “No. It’s the animals,” he said, looking up at her. Ginny looked up from where she was trying to clean debris from the huge gashes in Harry’s back and saw new brands from the phoenixes and griffins on Harry’s wand. She shook her head. “That’s from his wand. He used his full power and was injured enough that it wasn’t completely in control,” she said as she went back to work. Harry was bleeding badly from these claw marks and they needed to be closed as quickly as possible. “The animals on the wand add power to it and brand his hand if he doesn’t control his magic properly.” “It looks painful,” Siri murmured, touching his father’s hand lightly. “It is,” Ginny agreed, glancing at her son. He was the tender-hearted one, the one who always helped her when the little ones had skinned knees or cut fingers. He had a healer’s touch already. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping the tears away. She had work to do, and Siri wanted to help. “Jamie, look in my bag for a small pot that’s orange and has a blue lid. Give that to your brother.” She looked up at Sirius, who now held the pot in his hand. “That’s essence of murtlap. It will make his hand feel better. Be sure there’s no debris — no grass or gravel or anything — in his hand, then rub a generous amount of the ointment into his hand. Be very gentle with your rubbing, Siri, because those burns are quite painful to him,” she instructed. She glanced up a few minutes later and saw Siri was completely involved in rubbing ointment into every crevice of Harry’s palm. Jamie was hovering over her, not certain what to do. Remus and Dumbledore were now sitting beside her, offering their help. Fawkes dripped tears into the huge gashes in Harry’s back while Ginny examined her husband for broken bones and internal injuries. “How is he?” Remus asked quietly, not really wanting the boys to overhear the conversation. “It’s bad, Remus, it’s so bad,” Ginny murmured, her voice breaking. She shook her head, angry with herself for letting her emotions get the better of her again, then got back to work. She continued to pass a crystal over his body and murmured her findings to Remus and Dumbledore. “Compound fractures of both legs. Broken pelvis. Broken ribs. Broken left humerus and left clavicle. Second and third degree burns on probably sixty percent of his body. And these deep gashes in his back. He probably has more internal injuries than I’ve found so far, since the bloody damned dragon fell on him.” “It’s a wonder he’s alive after that,” Dumbledore said, bending down so he was face to face with his grandson, who was lying on his stomach. “Hello, Harry,” he added tenderly as the horribly wounded man opened his eyes. “Hi,” Harry said, then began coughing, moaning in pain as he did so. “Coughing is actually good, love,” Ginny encouraged him. “It will help your lungs. But I know it hurts. I’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy. Just be patient.” “Gin — love you,” he said, trying to focus on her. “Sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. I know you were doing what you had to,” she replied, smiling down at him. She bent and kissed him gently, then removed his glasses so he’d be more comfortable, and got back to work. “I love you too. Now behave yourself so I can fix you up, OK?” “’K,” he murmured. “Mrs. Potter,” Severus Snape said as he stepped up behind her, “are there potions you will need that I might help with?” “Yes, I’ll need a huge quantity of essence of murtlap, some, um —” Ginny had to stop and wipe tears from her eyes again. The enormity of the healing task before her was truly overwhelming. Her husband had just been crushed by forty ton dragon. He should be a smear on the ground now, not still alive and even talking. “How did you manage it, Harry?” she murmured. “Armpit,” he breathed, then tried to smile. “Armpit?” she said, confused. “Got . . . trapped . . . in her armpit,” he replied. “Bit of . . . space there.” “Oh, well, that explains it, then,” Ginny said, trying to smile at him. “Well done.” “Yeah,” he agreed. Ginny got back to work, glancing up at Snape and reeling off a list of potions she’d need with the professional ease born of her long years of healer training. Snape hurried back into the castle to get what she’d asked for. Before long, Harry was stabilized enough to move. A stretcher was conjured under him and levitated very carefully by Remus. Ginny walked next to Harry, keeping an eye on his vital signs. Siri capped the bottle of murtlap essence and walked beside his mother. Jamie walked on the other side of the stretcher, gazing into his father’s face. “Jamie,” Harry whispered. “Yes?” “Bring . . . the sword. You’re the . . . Heir.” “What?” Jamie said, confused. “Do what he said. He’ll explain later,” his grandfather told the boy. Jamie ran back to where Harry’s body had lain, found his father’s wand and pocketed it. Then he hesitantly lifted the bloody sword lying nearby. It was so long and heavy, Jamie had to use both hands to lift it. The thick, gooey dragon’s blood on the blade dripped in huge globs to the ground. Harry’s blood, much thinner than the dragon’s, but still in a vast quantity, covered the hilt of the sword. Jamie recognized the difference in blood and dropped the sword, looking at the sticky gore now covering his hands in horror. With no warning, he bent over and vomited. “Mr. Potter, are you all right? What’s wrong?” Professor McGonagall said, hurrying over to him, then pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. “This . . . this is my dad’s blood,” he sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he stared at his own hands, then at the beautiful jewelled hilt smeared with Harry’s blood. “I know. Would you like me to take it?” she offered kindly. “No. My dad told me to get it. I’ll carry it,” he said with all the dignity an eleven-year-old could muster. His young face hardened as he stared at the sword for another moment, picked it up, then caught up with the slow-moving group taking his father to the hospital wing. “You boys stay out here,” Ginny said as her sons tried to follow the group bearing Harry into a curtained area in the hospital wing. “I’ll let you know when you can see him.” The boys nodded, their eyes huge and dark with fear. They shuffled back against the wall and sat down, as close to the curtain as they could manage without touching it. Jamie held the sword across his knees. Thick, viscous dragon blood dripped from it, making wet splatter marks on his robes and the floor around him. He sat staring at it, holding the jewelled grip with one hand so the sword wouldn’t slip and cut him. He’d already sliced into his robes by being careless when carrying it — the sword was unbelievably sharp. Jamie rubbed the other hand unconsciously but continuously on his robes, as if trying to wipe off the blood smeared all over his hand and robes. Once in a while, he’d change hands and rub the other hand on his robes over and over. Siri watched his twin uneasily. He’d never seen Jamie so unnerved. Jamie was the strong, bold one of the pair. Siri didn’t know how to comfort him. A sudden anguished scream from their father made both boys jump. The sword clattered to the floor. Jamie picked it up again, looking around warily. He was supposed to be taking care of this sword, not dropping it on a hard stone floor. He sighed and picked it up again, gripping it more tightly than before. He was grateful the stupid sword hadn’t cut him when it fell. “I’m sorry,” Ginny said anxiously. “I don’t know where to touch you to help you lift your head so you can take the potion, sweetheart.” Harry’s face was badly burned on one side, and covered with cuts and abrasions on the other. There was no safe place to touch him without hurting him. “’S OK,” he groaned, opening his mouth and turning his head to the side as well as he could. He couldn’t be placed on his back due to the burns there, so giving him potions was difficult. “It’s not OK,” Ginny grumbled, wiping her streaming eyes with the back of her wrist. She managed to get some pain potion in his mouth and breathed a sigh of relief as he visibly relaxed a bit. “Better?” “Yeah,” he replied. As she bent over him and worked on his injuries, he said, “Tell Hagrid — wait. How . . . is he?” “I don’t know, baby,” Ginny replied. She glanced up at Remus, who ducked out of the room to find out about Hagrid’s condition. Once a healer had arrived in Hagrid’s cabin to work on him, Remus and Snape had rushed out of the cabin just in time to see Harry disappear under the dragon’s falling body. Ginny smiled encouragingly at her husband as the curtains fell back in place after Remus passed through them. “Be still now, so I can take care of you.” Harry lay as still as he could manage, flinching and grunting when Ginny did something particularly painful. The pain potion she’d given him had only taken the edge off the pain, not removed it completely. Suddenly, Harry screamed and thrashed on the bed in agony. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Ginny sobbed. “There’s just so much damage,” she muttered, shaking her head. She stopped and took a deep breath, then got back to work, wiping the tears from her face with angry motions. Madam Pomfrey entered the enclosure with Remus close behind her. “Ginny, Marcus will be finished with the students in a few minutes. Why don’t you let him treat Harry? This has to be hard for you,” she said kindly. “I’ll take care of him,” Ginny said with determination. “Marcus is welcome to come and help me when he has time.” Remus bent down so he was on Harry’s eye level. “Harry?” He waited until Harry looked at him. “Hagrid’s going to be fine. He has a concussion and a few broken bones, but nothing too serious.” “Thanks,” Harry breathed. “Tell him . . . I want . . . the hide.” “The hide?” Remus said, confused. “That bloody damned . . . dragon’s . . . hide,” Harry said stubbornly. “Whatever for?” Remus asked, astonished. “Boots . . ., cloaks . . .,” Harry’s words were cut off by a painful cough that left him moaning. When he had his breath back, he looked at Remus and picked up where he left off. “Doormat.” Ginny was startled into laughter. She bent down to look him in the eye. “A dragon hide for a doormat?” He smirked a little and gave her a very definite wink. Ginny’s heart lifted for a moment. Harry, bless him, was being deliberately funny. “I . . . earned it,” Harry said, watching his wife’s reaction with satisfaction. “Yes, you did,” Remus said, grinning at his godson. “I’ll let him know.” “Thanks.” Harry’s eyes became unfocused as he fought against the pain wracking his body. Something Ginny or Madam Pomfrey was doing made him scream again, a long anguished wail. When he caught his breath, Harry waved one hand feebly at the curtained wall and said, “Silencio,” then dropped his hand wearily to his side. “Why’d you do that?” Ginny said distractedly. “The boys . . . are just . . . there,” Harry said looking toward the edge of the curtains where they met the wall. “I can . . . see them.” As Harry spoke, twin voices from outside the curtain cried, “MUM! MUM! What’s wrong?” “Oh, dear, I forgot about them,” Ginny said, aghast at what they’d been hearing. “Thanks for the Silencing Charm. I wish I’d thought of it.” Harry nodded slightly. “Now stop doing magic and let me take care of you, all right?” She glanced at Remus, who was walking toward the curtain. “Thanks, Remus.” “I’ll do what I can,” he promised. Outside the curtains, Remus gathered the twins into his arms, holding them close and letting them cry as long as they needed to. “Nothing’s wrong, no more so than when we went in there,” he assured them. “It got so quiet all of a sudden,” Siri said, pulling back to look at Remus. The boy’s face was white with fear. “Dad was screaming, and then–” “He just . . . stopped,” Jamie finished for his twin, his face equally white. “We thought–” He quieted, unable to voice his fear. Remus understood now. “Your dad didn’t want you to hear him scream, so he put a Silencing Charm on the area. Some of the things being done to heal him are rather painful, unfortunately, and the pain potions he’s been given aren’t helping much yet.” “How long before we can see him?” Jamie asked. “I need to talk to him.” “It will be a while. We’ll let you know, all right?” Both boys nodded miserably. Remus felt his heart turn over, filled with overwhelming love for these two boys who looked so much like their father, and filled, as well, with tremendous fear for Harry. He was hurt so badly this time. How could he possibly survive? Remus shook his head, angry with himself for even considering such a thing, then held the boys close to him and kissed each one on top of his messy black hair, breathing in the healthy scent of active young boys. “He loves you and your brothers and sisters and your mum so very much. I promise you, he will fight as hard as he can to get well quickly so he can be with all of you again soon. And as you saw today, when Harry Potter fights, he’s brilliant.” He pushed them away a bit so he could look in their eyes. Both boys looked up at the man they considered a grandfather. “He was brilliant, wasn’t he?” Jamie said, his voice shaking a bit, but his eyes awed. “Yes, he was. That’s the way he is, lads, a hero in every way. Don’t ever forget that.” “We won’t,” they chorused. “I’ll go and see how he’s doing, all right?” Remus said, anxious to get back to his godson. “Is there anything you want me to tell him?” “No, I need to talk to him myself. Thanks,” Jamie said, his eyes dark and serious. “All right, then. I’ll keep you posted.” The boys nodded, their faces solemn as they watched him turn and go back through the curtains that separated them from their parents. The boys sat down, leaning against the wall next to the curtain, as close to their father as they could manage. The Silencing Charm made an unnatural stillness in their area. As they waited for someone to come and tell them their father was improving, Siri looked at the gore-covered sword in his twin’s hands. “Why d’you suppose Dad wanted you to bring that?” “Because I’m the Heir,” Jamie replied, rubbing his bloodied hands on his robes as he’d been doing ever since their parents had disappeared behind that curtained wall, only breaking his rhythm when Remus had joined them moments earlier. “What’s that mean?” “I have no idea.” “What are you supposed to do with the sword, then?” Siri said, rather glad at the moment that he wasn’t the oldest Potter child and didn’t face whatever responsibility being the Heir entailed. Jamie shrugged, staring at the sword uneasily. “Dunno. I guess I should clean it, but I don’t know how.” “I’ll help you,” Siri offered. He shared Jamie’s feeling of horror when they looked at the blood-covered sword, but cleaning it was something they could do for their father. “Dad would want it to be cleaned, wouldn’t he?” “Yeah,” Jamie agreed, tearing his eyes away from the sword to give his brother a grateful look. “Thanks.” He watched his twin go to a nearby shelf and get a bowl and two flannels, then fill the bowl with warm soapy water. The two boys sat on the floor, the sword between them, and began washing it very carefully. Tears splattered the sword and the floor around it as they worked. Somehow they felt that, with every speck of blood they removed, they were washing away a part of their father’s life. They tried to be quiet, but finally sobs began to escape them. The curtains parted and both Remus and Dumbledore came out and knelt beside the twins. “Oh, you dear lads, what are you doing?” the old wizard said, wrapping an arm around Jamie as Remus embraced Siri. “T-t-taking care of D-D-Dad’s s-sword,” Jamie said, his voice shaking as he tried to stop sobbing. “You don’t have to do that,” Dumbledore said, taking the flannels from their hands and putting the bowl full of bloody water aside. Jamie looked up at his grandfather, his eyes streaming with tears, but a very Harry-like stubborn set to his jaw. “Dad said I had to get it. He said I’m the Heir.” “You’re not the Heir yet, James,” Dumbledore assured him. “You’re the next Heir, but you don’t have to worry about that for a long time.” Jamie looked at his grandfather in confusion, but then his face lit up. “That means Dad’s the Heir and he’s getting better, right?” he said hopefully. “I have every expectation that he will make a full recovery soon,” Dumbledore said, praying his hope was not a vain one. He knew Harry was in a desperate fight for his life at the moment, but the boys needed a bit of comfort just now. “Let me show you a very useful spell,” he added, trying to distract them. He pulled out his wand and passed it slowly over the length of the sword. Blood and gore disappeared in the wake of the wand’s movement. “Thanks,” Siri said, sounding greatly relieved. “Yes, thanks, Grandfather,” Jamie added, but his face looked somehow more bereft than before. “What’s wrong, James?” Remus said, studying the boy’s solemn face. “Dad gave me a job to do and I didn’t manage it. I’ve been awful to him all this time at school, and . . . and . . .” Jamie stopped speaking and sat there shaking his head, apparently at a loss for words. “Your father told you to bring the sword,” Dumbledore said, reaching out and putting his hand under the boy’s chin, then gently turning Jamie’s face up to look at him. “You brought it. He didn’t tell you to clean it. I’ll ask Cousin Minerva to put it back in her office, shall I?” “Is that what Dad wants me to do with it?” Jamie said uncertainly. “Yes. Your father didn’t want you to worry about this sword — he just wanted you to bring it in.” He patted the boy’s shoulder reassuringly. “What did he mean when he said I’m the Heir?” Jamie said, watching his grandfather closely. Now that his eyes had been dragged away from the sword, he didn’t want to look at it again. “Your father will explain that to you in good time,” his grandfather replied. “Or I can tell you later if you wish. But it’s really his place to explain it. I don’t want to take that pleasure from him.” He rose to his feet, lifting the sword as he got up. “I’ll give this to the headmistress, then, shall I?” Jamie nodded. “Right, then. I’ll be back in a moment. Why don’t you go and wash your hands and faces? You’ll feel better then.” He patted both boys on the head and moved toward the nurse’s office, where Minerva was conferring with Madam Pomfrey. “He’s doing fairly well right now,” Remus assured them. “Shall I stay out here with you?” “No, but thank you,” Siri replied in a low voice. “Mum needs all the help she can get right now. Just come and tell us how he is every so often, OK?” “I’ll do that,” Remus promised. He hugged the boys, then went through the curtains again. Jamie and Siri remained on the floor, gazing at the damp patches that still showed traces of pink in the water there, and then at the bowl which seemed to be full of blood. They wiped the floor with their flannels, wrung them out over the bowl, then got to their feet and stood staring at the bowl, apparently unwilling or unable to pick it up. “Oh, I’m sorry, boys. I forgot something,” Dumbledore said from across the room. “Evanesco.” With that, the bloody water in the bowl vanished. He glanced at Jamie’s robes and said, “Scourgify,” smiling a bit at the relief on the boy’s face when the blood disappeared from his robes. The boys gave their grandfather grateful looks and then put the bowl away and hung the damp flannels to dry. After washing their faces and hands, they went back to their places outside the curtained wall and settled down to wait for news of their father. Jamie turned to look at his twin. “Thanks for helping.” Siri shrugged. “You’d do the same for me.” He put his arm around his brother’s back and patted him, trying his best to comfort his twin while wishing someone would comfort him, as well. Jamie gave him a half-hearted smile and sighed. “What are we going to do?” Siri looked at him, his eyes a dark, stormy green just like Jamie’s. “Wait.” “That’s all we can do for now, Ginny,” Marcus Pomfrey said as he straightened up and stretched his back. “Do you want to send him to St. Mungo’s?” “I’ll stay with him,” Ginny said. “Transporting him will be too hard on him. We can take care of him here.” “Well, I’m only a fire-call away if you need me,” Marcus said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll come and check on both of you soon.” Ginny put her hand on top of his where it lay on her shoulder. “Thanks.” “Take care of yourself, too,” he reminded her. “Your children need you. So does he,” he added with a nod toward Harry’s still form. “I know.” “I saw your boys sitting just outside,” he said with a smile. “They’re handsome lads. You must be so proud of them.” “We are. They’re good boys,” she said, sniffling a bit. “Well, they’re not always good,” she added with a sad chuckle. “They’re just like Harry, and not only in looks.” She followed him through the curtain and saw her boys sitting quietly by the wall. She waved to Marcus as he walked away, then opened her arms to her boys. “You look tired. I am too. Come and give your mum a hug,” she said, giving them a weary smile. “How’s Dad?” Jamie said as he and Siri wrapped their arms around her, all of them well-practiced in how to manage a twins-plus-mum hug. “He’s resting now. It’s going to take him a long time to heal, I’m afraid, but I think he’s going to be all right,” she said, rubbing her cheek in Siri’s rumpled hair and looking seriously into Jamie’s eyes. “You boys were wonderful. I hope you know that.” “We didn’t do anything–” Jamie began. “You didn’t get hysterical. You were quiet and calm and did whatever your dad and I asked you to do. You can’t imagine what a help that was to me, what a comfort. You’re such good boys.” As she held them close, she felt her spirit being restored somewhat by their love. She pulled back to look at them and smiled. “You’ve grown! You’re nearly as tall as me now.” The boys gave her feeble smiles, knowing she was trying to distract them. “When can we see him?” Jamie said. “I need to talk to him.” “Not for a while,” she replied. “He needs to rest. I gave him a heavy dose of potion to help him sleep.” “Can we sit with him, Mum?” Siri said. “So he won’t be alone when he wakes up?” “That would be wonderful, boys. He’d like that,” she said, studying their faces with worry in her eyes. “But I must warn you, he doesn’t look good.” “We saw him when you got him out from under the dragon,” Siri reminded her. “I know, but even cleaned up, he looks bad. I just wanted to warn you.” “OK,” both boys said. “We won’t bother him, Mum,” Siri continued. “Please, may we sit with him?” “All right. Just be quiet, all right?” They both nodded. Ginny pulled the curtain back and let them enter the enclosure around Harry’s bed. When she heard their shocked gasps, she put her hands on their shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll look better when the swelling goes down.” The boys just gulped and nodded, more horrified than they’d expected to be. Harry had a severe burn on the left side of his face, and the bottom of his left ear was a sodden mass of tissue little resembling the well-shaped shell it had once been. The swelling from the burn made his face look twisted and strange. Some parts of his body were heavily bandaged or splinted, others were naked and shiny with some kind of ointment. A Warming Charm kept him warm, since a blanket would have been painful wherever it touched him. He floated above the bed a bit to keep pressure off of his many wounds. The hair at the back of his head and near his left ear was singed off, the rest of it sticking up madly in all directions. He looked strangely innocent without his glasses. Even the outer edge of his left eyebrow had been singed, leaving the rest of the eyebrow as an oddly truncated dark arch over that eye. Ginny studied her sons’ faces, noting the horror there. “Are you two all right?” They nodded, unable to speak. Ginny sighed, then pulled them back through the curtain. She stood looking into two pairs of heartbroken green eyes. “Listen to me. I know seeing him is very hard for you. I’m proud of how you handled it. You were so strong! You don’t have to go in there again until he’s better.” “But we want to help!” Siri said. Jamie nodded in agreement, his heart in his eyes. “Truly?” They nodded again. “Then you must promise me this, boys,” Ginny said quite seriously. “You must never look at him with horror, fear or disgust. He is your father. He loves you more than anything in this world. He just offered his life to save yours and those of the other people here. He knew he could die before he ever went out of the window. But he did it willingly, because he loves you and wanted to protect you, no matter what it cost him. You do understand that, don’t you?” She watched as they thought about her words. “Yes, Mum,” they said in unison. “Right. Remember that when you sit with him. If you show any sign of revulsion or horror, if you make him feel bad about himself, about how he looks — that would be such a cruel thing to do, and I know you aren’t cruel boys. But I also know he looks awful right now, and that must be very difficult for you to deal with. If you’re going to sit with him, you must promise me to be cheerful and loving with him, no matter what. Can you do that? Think about it before you answer me. This is a very serious question.” Both boys looked at her quietly, then turned as one to gaze at their father, still visible through the parting of the curtain. They turned back to their mother and nodded, their eyes solemn. “We’ll behave. And we’ll do whatever he needs us to,” Jamie agreed. “What can we do for him?” Siri asked. “When he wakes up, he’ll probably have questions. He’ll probably want to know if anyone died, and if so how many, and how many are injured. I’ll tell you those numbers as soon as I know them. Whatever he asks, answer him as honestly as you can, but remember to be kind. Don’t be discouraging in any way. He’ll need a drink of water, I’m sure. I’m certain he’ll tell you he’s fine when you ask how he is, but pay attention to how he looks, how he acts. You’ll be able to tell if he’s in much pain or if he’s fairly comfortable. You’ll need to call me to come check him when he wakes up, but unless he’s in serious pain, you can chat with him a bit before you call me. I know all three of you will need that time together.” “OK, Mum,” the boys chorused. “I’ll check back with you later. Take turns going to the loo so one of you is always with him. Let me know when he wakes up,” she said, smiling at each boy in turn. “I’m going to help Madam Pomfrey with the injured students. Thank you for helping.” “Just tell us what to do, and we’ll do it, whatever it is,” Siri said earnestly. “Sit with him quietly and take care of him when he wakes up,” she said, then leaned down and kissed her husband on his forehead. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Get well!” With that, she stepped through the curtains with a final wave to her boys. Jamie and Siri pulled up chairs and sat down to wait for their father to wake up. The longer they looked at their father, the harder it was to keep the tears from falling. Siri looked at his brother. “I can’t believe we were so stupid.” “Yeah,” Jamie agreed, then turned back to watch the rise and fall of his father’s chest. He couldn’t look his dad in the face. The burns there were too horrible for him to contemplate, much less look at. Jamie sat quietly for a long time, then picked up his chair and moved to the other side of the bed. “Where are you going?” “I can’t . . . I need . . . erm. . . .” Jamie said, swallowing hard. “I need to be over here.” He sat down and found himself looking at his father’s horribly burned back. The view here was no better than from the other side. Jamie covered his face with his hands and tried to keep his sobbing quiet. If he looked away, he could calm down, but his eyes seemed to be drawn inexorably to Harry’s back. The dragon had gashed him horribly. Those gashes added to the faint network of scars already criss-crossing Harry’s back, a reminder of the beating Voldemort had given him in his sixth year at Hogwarts. And over all these cuts and scars, burns blistered his back, the skin scorched and horrible looking. A stench of burnt hair and meat hung in the room, as well. Jamie swallowed hard and simply closed his eyes, no longer able to look, but refusing to leave. He had a debt of honour to pay here. He’d promised to sit with his father, and that’s exactly what he was going to do. Siri looked at his brother and thought he’d had a pretty good idea what was going through his twin’s mind. He, too, closed his eyes, wiping frantically at the tears sliding down his cheeks. Some time later, Harry woke up and saw one of his boys sitting by his bed looking quite solemn — or was he crying? Without his glasses, Harry couldn’t tell. “Hi,” he said with a slight smile, his voice whispery and weak. He squinted, trying to discern which of his sons it was. “Hi, Dad,” the boy murmured, trying to smile. “Jamie?” Harry said, his voice a raspy whisper. “No, it’s Siri. Jamie’s behind you,” the boy said glancing over his father’s shoulder at his twin. “Sorry,” Harry said, trying again to smile. His face hurt horribly. Speaking, smiling, any movement made his badly burned left cheek scream in pain. Sirius saw the grimace crossing his father’s face. “No problem, Dad. You almost never mistake us,” he said, doing his best to smile. “Jamie?” Harry said, trying to move his head a bit so he could see his other son. He thought he heard a sob behind him, but he couldn’t be certain. “Jamie,” Siri said, a bit impatiently, “come here.” Jamie came around the bed at a foot-dragging pace, finally sitting down next to his twin. He barely glanced at his father. “Hi, Dad.” “What’s . . . wrong?” Harry said, frowning a bit at his oldest son. “Am I . . . that badly hurt?” Jamie was silent. Siri elbowed him, scowling at his brother as he did so. Finally, the oldest Potter boy lifted his head and looked at his father. The tracks of tears were plain on his face. His face was red and puffy from a long spell of crying. “It isn’t you, Dad. It’s me. I’m so sorry.” “For . . . what?” Harry said, completely confused. “I’ve been such a git,” Jamie replied, dropping his eyes again. “We both have. We’re sorry, Dad,” Siri said earnestly. “What . . . are you . . . talking about?” The twins looked at each other, as if deciding which one would be the spokesman. Jamie shuddered, but finally lifted his head with determination. “Siri and I have been horrible to you. We haven’t even tried to do the work in class. We’ve been disrespectful and rude and . . . and . . . stupid!” His voice was both angry and ashamed. “You’re not . . . stupid. What are you . . . on about?” Harry asked, frowning in concern. Jamie grumbled to himself for a moment before speaking. When he finally began to talk, the explanation burst from him in a torrent. “When we got to Hogwarts, everyone had read Aunt Hermione’s books. They were so impressed with you. They wanted to know what ‘big magic’ we’d seen you do,” Jamie said, nearly snarling in rage. “We told them we’d never seen you do anything ‘big,’ so then they said Aunt Hermione was making everything up, and that you were a fraud. And we were so incredibly thick, we believed them!” Harry nearly smiled, glad the problem that had been plaguing his boys was something he could actually deal with. “Is that . . . all it was? You thought . . . I was a fraud?” “We didn’t know what to think! These older kids said things that made us doubt Aunt Hermione’s stories. They said Aunt Hermione just made that stuff up so she could sell books and make a lot of money. You’ve never told us those stories. We learned them from her. You and Mum don’t talk about that stuff at all, so what were we supposed to think?” Jamie said, sounding desperate now. “That the memories were . . . too painful . . . for us to want . . . to remember,” Harry said quietly. “Oh,” Jamie said, suddenly looking deflated. He shared a guilty look with Siri. “We didn’t think of that.” “It’s all right,” Harry said, trying to reach for them. One arm was encased in a huge cast, the other hand and arm heavily bandaged and he was lying on his stomach because of his seriously burned and slashed back. Harry glared at the hand he could see in frustration. He wanted to ruffle his boys’ hair, to smile at them and tell them everything would be fine, to find a way to make them laugh or at least smile again. But he had no idea how to manage that in his present condition. He finally managed to lift his bandaged right hand toward them, but it was so painful, he groaned and dropped his arm, gasping with pain. “What do you need, Dad? Do you want a drink? Mum said you might be thirsty when you woke up,” Siri said. “Where is she?” Harry said, glancing around. “Tending the kids who were hurt when the tower collapsed,” Jamie replied. “How many?” Harry asked, his eyes worried. “About twenty injured, I think,” Jamie replied, glancing at his twin for confirmation. Siri nodded. “Most of them were in class. It was just the Second Years who were in the tower and a few others who were out of class because they were ill.” Harry’s heart ached as he thought of all those bright, eager faces, most of them just a year older than his boys. “Any dead?” “Six,” Jamie said after a moment’s hesitation. “Boy, Mum knows you well,” Siri said with a slight smile. “She said that would be one of the first things you asked when you woke up.” “She and I . . . have been . . . through . . . this . . . kind of thing . . . before,” Harry said with great effort. “Don’t try to talk so much, Dad,” Siri said. “You’re not very strong yet.” “I have to . . . tell you something,” Harry said determinedly. “What?” Jamie replied, his body tense as he waited to hear the reprimand he felt he deserved. “I love you both. I’m proud of you. I understand how . . . hard it is when you start Hogwarts, how . . . hard it is when other kids pick on you. And you have seen . . . big magic — you just didn’t recognize it because . . . you’re used to it.” Harry stopped to catch his breath after speaking for so long. “Big magic?” Jamie breathed, staring at his father hopefully. “Adferos. Not just . . . anyone can send them. The wards around . . . the house. Your mum, Uncle Ron . . . and me . . . changing into animals. Being an Animagus is . . . very rare, you know, and multiple Animagi are . . . nearly non-existent. There are . . . very few in history. Grandfather and I are the . . . only two multiple Animagi . . . alive right now. And being able to change into a magical . . . creature is even more rare. My being a phoenix . . .Animagus, as well as a thestral, is very . . . unusual — really ‘big’ magic,” Harry said, a faint twinkle in his eye as he watched varied expressions race across his boys’ faces. “Those are big magic?” Jamie said, surprised. “Yes.” Jamie banged his fists on his knees. “We are idiots! We should have known!” Siri nodded his agreement. “We never told you that stuff was . . . unusual for wizards,” Harry said simply. “It’s just . . . the way we live.” “We are so sorry, Dad,” Siri said again. “When we see those gits–” Jamie began. “Just ignore them. If you tell them those things . . . , it will seem like bragging, and that will get you . . . even more trouble from gits like that,” Harry said, watching his sons carefully. “Promise me. I don’t want you . . . getting into fights.” “Yes, Dad,” the boys chorused, looking a bit resentful, but relieved as well. “The cool thing is,” Jamie said with a sudden smile, “your fight with the dragon was just full of big magic.” “And awesome flying!” Siri added. “Yeah,” Jamie agreed. “They can’t call Aunt Hermione a liar anymore. You’re everything she said, and more! How cool is that?” “Very cool,” Harry said, glad to have his boys acting like themselves again. “We’re not doing a very good job of taking care of you,” Siri said, suddenly all business. “Do you want anything?” “Mum said you’d need some water,” Jamie added. “Do you want a drink?” Harry nodded. Jamie carefully lifted his father’s head while Siri held a straw to his lips so he could drink some water. A few sips later, Harry was finished. He lay there gasping after Jamie laid his head back on the bed. “Are you OK?” Jamie asked in concern. He and his twin studied their dad’s face. Harry was terribly pale, his hair still sticky with blood, his body swathed in all kinds of bandages for his various injuries. “I’m . . . fine,” he said with as reassuring a smile as he could muster. Both boys laughed uneasily. “Mum said you’d say that too,” Siri said, reaching out to touch his father’s less-injured shoulder with a gentle hand. Harry smiled. “Yeah. I always . . . say that.” “I’ll go and get Mum,” Jamie said, then dashed through the curtains to find her. Ginny hurried into Harry’s enclosure a few minutes later. “Hi, baby. How do you feel?” Harry tried to smile, and wiggled the fingers of his burned right hand a little, which was all he could manage. “With . . . my hands,” he said, earning a smile for his cheek. “You are such a silly man,” Ginny said fondly as she examined him. “I love you so much, Harry. You really need to get well now, and stop making me work so hard.” “You always . . . were . . . a lazy wench,” he teased as she examined him. Jamie and Siri looked in open-mouthed astonishment from one parent to the other. They were actually playing with each other, with Dad so terribly hurt! The twins stared at each other in confusion. “It’s OK, boys,” Ginny said, noticing their bewilderment. “Your dad and I learned a long time ago that humour is a great help in making him heal faster.” Harry moaned as Ginny very gently Levitated him and turned him so she could inspect his burns and the gashes on his back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know this hurts. The pain potion I just gave you will start working soon,” Ginny said as she looked him over. Harry nodded, then sighed as she rolled him onto his right side. “That’s . . . better.” “Not moving, or lying on your side?” she asked. “Side.” “OK, I’ll prop you so you’ll be more comfortable,” she said, casting spells around him to support him so he wouldn’t roll over either way. “Better?” “Yeah. Thanks.” He lay still for a moment. “Merlin?” “He’s fine. Richard found him. Fawkes is taking care of him whenever Fawkes isn’t with you. Merlin was burned, so he’s a baby again,” Ginny explained. “He’s already squawking about wanting to be with you, but he’s not strong enough yet.” “Thank Richard for me. And tell Merlin . . . I miss him,” Harry whispered, then drifted off to sleep again, the pain potion finally giving him some relief. “So you stole the eggs?” Headmistress McGonagall snapped, her nostrils thin and white with fury as she glared at the two boys standing before her. Tiny Professor Flitwick stood beside her, his normally cheerful face uncharacteristically grim. Someone in these boys’ dorm had told Flitwick who’d stolen the eggs. Now the boys were facing the wrath of both professors. Maxwell Parsons and Philip Graves were Third-Years and had been in Charms class when the dragon attacked Ravenclaw Tower. They’d watched Harry’s battle with the dragon with joy, cheering mightily while watching the legendary Harry Potter in hero mode. Their joy turned to horror when they realized he was being seriously injured. When the dragon fell on him, they’d collapsed in horror, both of them sliding down the wall and burying their faces in their hands. Harry Potter was dead, and it was their fault! Professor Flitwick had just told them Harry had been rescued and was now clinging to life in the hospital wing. Now they glanced up at their furious headmistress and finally answered her question. “Yes, Professor, we stole the eggs,” Maxwell murmured as Philip nodded. “Why in Merlin’s name did you do such a thing?” She glared from one boy to the other. They were both at the top of their class but arrogant about it. Far too often, both boys seemed to think they knew more than most of the older students, and sometimes even the professors. “We wanted to try hatching them ourselves. We were researching dragons and knew the watch-dragon had eggs in her nest, and it seemed like a good research project,” Maxwell said, shrugging his shoulders as if anyone in their right mind would have done the same thing. “What made you think you could get away with stealing the dragon’s eggs?” McGonagall snapped, her voice shrill, her lips very thin, her dark eyes snapping with fury. “Harry Potter did it when he was fourteen,” Philip Graves said defiantly. “We didn’t see why we couldn’t do it. And we did get away with it. She didn’t catch us!” “Harry Potter . . .,” she began, then had to stop and breathe deeply to control her rage and hold back the tears that sprang to her eyes when the boy said Harry’s name. “Harry Potter may die from what he had to do to protect the school from that dragon, and that’s your fault, boys, not his in any way. Just because he managed to do something doesn’t mean that just anyone can do it. He is an extremely powerful wizard, and was even before he went through the Refiner’s Fire. And the egg he stole was a golden one, not the dragon’s real egg. Professor Potter would never take a dragon’s egg away from it simply because he felt like it, or because he thought he could do it! That would be cruel to the animal, and he’s not a cruel person. Harry Potter is an honourable man, and he was an honourable boy, as well, bless him. He–” She couldn’t go on, she was simply too angry to speak. Both boys took a step back in the face of her rage. “We’re sorry,” Maxwell said. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt,” Philip growled, still defiant. “Two baby dragons died. The watch-dragon, who has protected Hogwarts for many years and was normally quite docile, died. The giant squid died, bless him.” She blinked back tears at the memory of Sebastian trying so hard to help Harry. “Worse than that, I know several of your classmates have died, as well, but not how many, not yet. Some others may die of their injuries. Many others are hurt,” she reminded them, wondering how they could be so dense when they were normally so intelligent. Her face grew even more grim. “And Harry Potter, who is a genuine hero in every way, may die. He has seven children, seven children, two of whom are here at Hogwarts. Those children will be fatherless if he dies. And it will be your fault!” Minerva pressed her lips together, knowing she should not lay such a burden on these boys, but they were thirteen, quite old enough to understand the gravity of their actions. “You will be charged with the deaths of these students, at the very least, and possibly with the destruction of Ravenclaw Tower and the deaths of four valuable magical creatures. Aurors will be coming to collect you this afternoon. There’s no point in telling you to pack your things. You’ll never find them in the wreckage of Ravenclaw Tower.” She shook her head distractedly, wondering what Dumbledore would do in her place. Yes, he was here, but he was with Harry and shouldn’t be disturbed. Finally, she decided she’d covered everything necessary. “Give me your wands,” she said imperiously, holding out her hand. They reluctantly obeyed her, gasping in shock when she snapped both wands in half. She shook the broken halves in their faces, her eyes snapping in fury. “You are expelled from Hogwarts. And don’t think you’ll get anywhere with an appeal to the Board of Governors. I’m sure they’ll wish we had even more punishments to use on you once they hear about this incident. Your parents are waiting for you in the Great Hall. They will accompany you and the Aurors to the Ministry.” Minerva studied the boys’ faces and wondered when the true gravity of what they’d done would hit them. Would they ever understand how much harm they’d done? They were certainly quiet enough now. She sighed, and finished what she had to say. “If we find your things, we’ll send them to your parents. Don’t expect the Ministry to be merciful to you. Your arrogance has cost you dearly, boys. I hope you learn a lesson from it.” Ginny went home for a short time the next morning to check on the rest of her children, and brought them back to Hogwarts with her, at their insistence. They’d seen the newspaper reports their grandfather Dumbledore and grandparents Weasley had been trying to keep from them. They needed to see their father themselves, to be certain he was alive. Ginny warned them that he looked terrible and was in a great deal of pain, so they’d need to be as brave as possible when they saw him. Harry was asleep when they arrived. He woke up when he heard children crying. “What’s . . . wrong?” he sighed, opening his eyes and squinting to see who was there. He thought he’d recognized some of their voices, but some voices were so distorted by tears or by trying to whisper that he wasn’t certain who they were. “Dan? Brian? Lily?” He looked up at his wife, his eyes confused and distraught. “Why did . . . you bring them? They’re scared.” “They insisted on coming,” she said simply as she bent over and slipped his glasses onto his face as carefully as possible, wincing when he flinched in pain. “I thought . . . I didn’t know what else to do. They were frantic to see you.” “’K,” he murmured, smiling at her as well as he could. He looked at his children, all five of the young ones crying and clutching either their mother or each other. “Come here. Let me . . . see you,” he encouraged them. Dan sniffled hard, scrubbed at his face determinedly, and then took the first step, followed closely by Lily. Lily reached out and wrapped her small hand around the tip of one of Harry’s uninjured fingers. “Does it hurt when I do this, Daddy?” she asked softly. “No, poppet, it’s wonderful . . . to hold your hand again,” he assured her. Dan wiped away his tears and swallowed determinedly, then bent down until he was nose to nose with his father. “I heard you were brilliant, Dad,” he said in awestruck tones. Then a cheeky grin flashed across his face. “I also hear you ruined two perfectly good brooms.” “Yeah, I did,” Harry agreed, chuckling a bit. “Need to . . . go broom-shopping . . . soon.” “Sounds like fun,” Dan said. By this time, John and Brian had joined them, with Beth hanging back shyly. “How are you, Dad?” Brian asked nervously. He wanted to touch his father, but seemed to be afraid to do so. “I’m a bit . . . messed up right now, but . . . I’ll be fine soon,” he assured his children. Beth crept out from behind her big brothers and stood by her father’s head, finally leaning forward and planting a gentle kiss on the unburned skin of his forehead. “I love you, Daddy. Please get well soon.” “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate your . . . kissing me to . . . make me better,” Harry said, doing his best to smile at her. “We can’t stay long or we’ll tire him too much, children,” Ginny said, watching her husband’s face closely. He’d lit up when his children approached him with love instead of horror at his injuries. Bringing them here had been good for Harry, and apparently for the children as well. Ginny would not have brought them if they hadn’t insisted. Another lesson learned from the children, she told herself. Each child kissed Harry’s forehead and wished him well before leaving, promising to come see him again soon. Harry’s eyes shone with joy that his children’s love for him could overcome the fear and disgust he thought they should have felt at how he looked. He looked up at Ginny. “Thanks for bringing them.” His eyes wandered from child to child. “Thanks for coming. It’s good to . . . see you. See you soon.” “Get well soon, Dad,” Dan said heartily. “We need to go broom shopping!” “Come home soon, Daddy,” Lily added. “We miss you.” “I’ll do my best,” Harry promised. Harry watched them go with tears in his eyes, his heart full to bursting with love for his family. He smiled at Ginny again as she gave him a parting glance and blew him a kiss. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised, then waved as the curtains fell between them. Out in the hallway, the children were in various stages of shock. Ginny gathered them into her arms and held them until their crying eased. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you,” she told her children. “Your father was so glad to see you. I know it was very hard on you to see him like this, but you helped him so much. You were wonderful! I’m glad you insisted on coming.” Dan scrubbed at his streaming eyes, annoyed that he was crying like a little kid instead of being the mature nine-year-old he thought he was. He was the man of the house for now, and he was going to do the best job possible until his dad got home and relieved him of that duty. He wiped his face once more, then began helping his mum comfort his brothers and sisters. Jamie and Siri returned to the hospital wing from lunch just then, and joined Dan and Ginny in comforting the little ones. “Did you see what happened?” Dan asked Jamie when they had a moment alone. “Yeah. It was awful,” Jamie said with a shudder. “I heard Dad was amazing, though,” Dan said, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “What was it like?” Jamie looked at his younger brother, a sad smile on his face. “He was absolutely brilliant. You’d never believe anyone could fly like that, or keep fighting as badly hurt as he was — but he just kept going until the job was done. It was horrible, but it was incredible, too.” “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.” “Yeah. Later. When he’s well, OK? It’s too soon now.” Dan nodded. “Yeah, I understand. Good to see you. How do you like Hogwarts?” “I’ll like it a lot better when Dad’s well,” Jamie said, knowing in his heart that Hogwarts would feel much different to him — and that he would be different, as well — after this experience. A short time later, Molly Weasley arrived. When she saw Jamie and Siri, she opened her arms to them, tears in her eyes. Ginny had told her parents that the boys had witnessed the entire battle and then helped tend their father. “Oh, there are my brave boys,” Molly said, holding them close. “I’m so proud of you! Your mother told me you’ve been such a help to her. How are you?” “We’re fine,” Jamie said, turning solemn eyes to his grandmother. The sight of her dear face, so filled with love and sympathy for him and his brother, brought tears to Jamie’s eyes. He swallowed hard, trying not to let them fall. Molly wasn’t fooled. “You are so like your dad, both of you,” she said, looking from Jamie to Siri. Both had their jaws set exactly like their father, a stubborn light in their eyes as they tried not to cry. “He always says he’s ‘fine,’ no matter how badly hurt he is.” The boys had heard their father say he was fine, too, even as badly hurt as he was. Molly’s comment was more than the twins could bear. With anguished sobs, they fell against their grandmother and buried their faces in her shoulders. “There, there, you sweet boys. Things will be better soon,” she said, hoping she was right. She glanced at her daughter and saw the exhaustion and heartache on her face as the younger woman comforted her other children. Jamie and Siri relaxed in their grandmother’s arms for a moment when their tears finally ended, then straightened up. “Sorry, Grandma,” Jamie said, wiping ineffectually at the damp stains on the shoulder of her robes. “Yeah, we didn’t mean to get you all wet,” Siri said, mirroring his twin’s actions. “It doesn’t matter, boys. I’m just glad I was able to be here for you,” she said, studying their beloved faces. “Are you all right?” They nodded and bent toward her, kissing her cheeks at the same time, which they knew she enjoyed. “I just love having so many twins in the family,” she said fondly, smiling at them. “Those double kisses are so sweet.” She kissed each of them in turn and ran her fingers through their hair, trying to neaten it a bit, then fussed with their robes, straightening a wrinkle here and there. “Jamie, Siri, are you late for class?” Ginny said suddenly, looking at her oldest boys over the heads of the others. “We’re on break, Mum,” Siri said, but Jamie looked at his watch. “Not for much longer, though,” Jamie said. “Then you’d better go and get your books,” Ginny said, moving away from the other children so she could hug the boys. “Thank you for all your help. I’ll be here when you finish class for the day. Come and say hello then, all right?” They nodded. “Run along now. Have a good afternoon.” Jamie and Siri ruffled the hair of their younger brothers and gave their sisters hugs before leaving. They turned and waved just before they disappeared around the corner. “Mum, if you want to see Harry–” Ginny began. “D’you mind watching the children a bit longer, then?” Molly asked, studying her daughter’s weary face. “Not at all. Go ahead, I’m sure he’d like to see you. Just tiptoe in, in case he’s fallen asleep, all right?” “Right. I won’t stay long,” Molly said, then took a deep breath and blew it out and pasted a determined smile on her face before striding through the hospital wing doors. She parted the curtains around Harry’s bed and peeped in. He seemed to be asleep. Ginny had warned her parents about his appearance, but nothing could have prepared Molly for what she saw now. “Oh, you precious boy,” she murmured, tears springing to her eyes. “Bless your heart, you must be in so much pain.” “It does . . . twinge a bit,” he replied, opening his eyes and trying to smile at her. “Oh, Harry! I’m sorry! I thought you were asleep,” Molly said, bending down to his eye level. “How are you, love? Can I bring you anything from home? I’ve come to take the children back home and thought I’d pop in as long as I was here.” “I’m . . . fine,” he said, smiling a bit when she shook her head in amusement at his normal response. “No, I don’t . . . well, I could use some clothes,” he said at last. “Damned dragon ruined my best school robes.” “I thought you were in a Quidditch uniform when, erm . . .” “I transfigured my school robes. They’re ruined.” “I’ll get some things together for you, then, so you’ll have them when you’re ready for them,” she promised. “And your own pyjamas, right? So you don’t have to wear those hospital things?” He smiled a bit. “Yeah, thanks.” “If you need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, all right?” she said, eager as always to be helpful. “And we’ll take good care of the children. Don’t you worry about them. They’ll be fine.” “I know.” “We’ll all take turns sitting with you, too, so Ginny doesn’t get too tired.” “Thank you. I’m worried about her,” he said, his eyes dark and sad. “Ginny’s strong. She’ll be fine,” Molly assured him. “I don’t want to tire you, and I’m sure Ginny wants to come back in here, so I’ll just go and take the children home now. You get well soon, dear. I love you. Arthur and the rest of the family all send their best. They’ll come round to see you soon. Take care.” She bent down and kissed his forehead, then ruffled his hair a bit, doing her best to not look at his horribly burned ear and cheek, nor at the patches of scalp showing where his hair had been burned away. “Thanks. Love you too,” he said, giving her a weary smile. She waved and stepped through the curtains, closing them carefully behind her, then walked into the farthest corner from his enclosure and cast a Silencing Charm on herself before allowing herself to give in to her grief. When she’d calmed a bit, she wiped her tears away and forced a smile on her face again, then went to claim her grandchildren and take them home. Molly hugged Ginny tightly before she left. “Oh, you dear girl. I’m so very sorry. I wish there was some way to take away the pain you and Harry and the children are feeling now.” “Thanks for taking care of the children for us,” Ginny said, resting in her mother’s arms for a moment, drawing strength from the contact. “Well, I couldn’t let Albus have all the fun, now, could I?” Molly said, smoothing Ginny’s russet hair away from her face, then kissing her daughter’s cheek. “Let me know if you need anything. Harry asked for clothes and pyjamas, so I’ll get those together for him. Would you like me to bring you a change of clothes, as well?” Ginny nodded. “Fine. I’ll ask Arthur to bring them when he comes to see you this evening. Hermione and her children are helping yours with the chores. She and Ron are going to help us with the children as well. Fred and George and Charlie and their wives send their best, and promised to come see both of you when Harry’s strong enough to have more company. Do let us know if you need anything else.” “I will, Mum. Thanks again.” Ginny turned to her children. “You lot behave now. Don’t give Grandma or Grandfather any trouble!” “We’ll be good, Mum,” John promised. “And we’ll take good care of the animals,” Brian added. “And of the little ones as well,” Dan murmured, sliding a brotherly arm around each of his baby sisters, who were still wide-eyed with shock but trying their best to be brave. “I can’t ask any more than that,” Ginny said, looking from face to beloved face. “See you later.” She watched them walk away with her mother, then sighed and turned back to the hospital wing doors and the long, hard task of getting her husband well again. Thus began the slow, pain-filled process of Harry’s recovery from his ghastly injuries. Jamie and Siri, Remus, Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Weasley nephews, Ron, Hermione, Molly, Arthur and many others stopped by to help, to sit with him, or just to watch him sleep over the next several days. Even Severus Snape stopped by to see him from time to time, their feud long past. Professor Flitwick cast a Whimsy Charm which created silent, constantly moving group of bubbles containing a variety of funny, whimsical or pretty things for Harry to watch. Since Harry wasn’t able to read and wasn’t strong enough to stay awake while someone else read to him, these whimsies floated above his bed to entertain him and whoever was sitting with him during the long watches of the day and night. Ginny rarely left the hospital wing, kept busy to the point of exhaustion working on Harry and the injured children. Madam Pomfrey, of course, was working all hours of the day and night caring for her patients, but she was quite grateful to have a healer staying there to help. Marcus Pomfrey and other healers came from St. Mungo’s to lend a hand often over the first few days, but as people improved and were released, they came less often. Several days after his battle with the dragon, Harry seemed to be feeling much better, although the burns were going to take quite a while longer to heal than his broken bones and internal injuries. Ginny was doing everything she could to reduce scarring, but there was no question about it, her handsome husband was going to be horribly disfigured for the rest of his life. The left side of his face and his left ear were burned so badly, they’d never heal perfectly. His back and the back of his legs were in terrible shape, and quite painful unless he was heavily drugged. Ginny counted her blessings that he was still alive. His sense of humour seemed to be intact, and, once he was well, he’d be able to do most of the things he’d done before, if a lot more slowly. He’d never fly with the freedom or ease he had before, nor would he be able to run with his children. His days as an athlete were over. He had deep, irreversible scarring in the muscles on his back and lower legs from both the serious, repeated burns he’d suffered, and the gashes from the dragon’s claws. Ginny hadn’t told him he’d be permanently disabled, but she could see the sad knowledge in his eyes. Harry knew life wasn’t going to be the same for him anymore. He’d seen the horror in the eyes of his children, nephews and other visitors when they’d first seen him. He’d never asked how he looked, or how well he was going to heal. He’d lived with an awful scar all of his life. He could learn to live with these scars too — or so he hoped. “How are you feeling this morning?” Ginny asked as she parted the curtains around his bed the morning of the seventh day. “I’m fine,” he said trying to give her a cheeky grin. He lifted his head a bit and whispered, “Want to fool around?” “Harry!” she said, blushing as she laughed. “Of course! But not here. And not just yet. You’re not strong enough.” “Spoil sport,” he said, resting against his pillows again, satisfied that he’d made her laugh. “I could make you do all the work, you know.” “Oh, you are a bad boy, Mr. Potter,” she said, smiling at him fondly. “As soon as you’re well enough, we’ll go home and I’ll take you up on that offer.” “You’re on!” He winced and tried to stifle a gasp as she lifted his arm a bit to check his side. His burns were still quite painful despite the best care wizard medicine could provide. Phoenix tears weren’t an effective treatment for burns for some reason, although both Merlin and Fawkes had tried numerous times to heal the burns covering so much of Harry’s body. Their tears eased the pain for a short time, but they couldn’t heal the burns themselves. Harry had even tried using his own healing powers, but he was simply too weak to manage it. Merlin was back to his full glory and nestled against Harry’s side, crooning his soothing songs. He’d done his best to heal Harry’s injuries as soon as he was able to, but he couldn’t improve on what Fawkes had done. Now, the beautiful bird glanced up at Ginny, then gazed at Harry expectantly, chirruping to him. “OK,” Harry said, stroking the magnificent bird affectionately. “OK what?” Ginny asked as she straightened his covers. “Do you remember when I disappeared in my seventh year with Merlin?” Harry said carefully. “How could I forget? That was terrifying, not knowing where you were, how you were,” she replied distractedly. Suddenly something in his tone got through to her and she looked up at him sharply. “Why?” “Merlin thinks I might heal faster there. I want to go to the land of the phoenixes with him,” Harry said, taking her hand in his left one. All of his broken bones were healed now, although not all of them had healed perfectly. He was glad to be out of the casts, though, and to have at least one hand to use. His right hand was still badly burned from his wand branding him and continued to be mostly useless due to the pain involved. “No, Harry. You have the best possible care here,” Ginny began. “I have more specialists coming in and–” “I’m not healing fast enough,” he said, interrupting her. “I don’t want to be in the hospital for months. I have work to do, children to teach, my own children and nephews to love, and a wife who needs me whole again,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I’d like to try this. I think it will work.” “But you can’t fly!” Ginny said, her voice unsteady. She could see the resolution in his eyes. He was going whether she agreed or not. “No, I can’t, but I believe I can change into a phoenix. If I can manage that, Merlin can flash me there,” Harry explained, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. “Harry, changing into an animal when you’re so badly injured–” “Will be painful and very hard on me. I know that,” he said softly, “but if I do this, I’ll be well so much sooner. Please don’t worry. I don’t want to hurt you or the children, but I need to go.” “When?” “Now,” he said, giving her hand a small squeeze. “Give me a kiss to remember.” Ginny stepped away from him. “No. Not until you tell me how long you’ll be gone and promise me you’ll be back when you say you will.” “Merlin thinks at least a week, maybe two,” Harry said honestly. “I think he’s right.” “Two weeks. That’s the longest you’ll be gone?” “Two weeks. I’ll ask Merlin to promise to bring me back then, no matter how I am. All right?” “Are you sure about this?” “No, but I can’t think of anything else to do. Wizard medicine isn’t helping me fast enough. I have this alternative that may work for me. I want to try it,” he said seriously. Ginny sighed. “All right,” she said, her shoulders drooping. “Are you going to say goodbye to the children?” “I want to leave now, before I lose my nerve,” he said, his eyes apprehensive. “I know the transformation is going to be painful. I want to get it over with, and I don’t want them to see me go through that.” He took her hand again. “I love you, sweetheart. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Sighing again, Ginny sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward him, giving him a heartfelt kiss he’d remember for a long time. When she sat back, he touched her cheek with one gentle finger, then cast a Silencing Charm on his enclosure and changed into a phoenix. The transformation wasn’t instantaneous as it normally was, but took several seconds during which Harry the man, and then Harry the phoenix screamed in absolutely agony. When the transformation was finally over, an injured phoenix flopped about miserably on the bed. It had huge sections of feathers missing where Harry was burned, and half of its face was horribly disfigured, just as Harry’s was. Merlin grabbed it as gently as possible in his talons and spread his wings, and then the two of them disappeared in a flash of light. “Take good care of him, Merlin,” Ginny whispered as she sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hands over the sheets where her beloved husband had just been. She could still feel the warmth from his body there. Ginny lifted the pillow and buried her face in it, breathing in the scent of him. Since his injury, his normal scent that had always reminded her of fresh air and sunshine had been replaced with a smell of scorched meat and hair. She didn’t mind the smell because she knew that he was alive under all those awful burns. No matter how he looked or smelled, no matter how crippled he was, he was her Harry and she loved him. And now he was gone again, and for who knew how long? If he’d lost track of time in the land of the phoenixes before, what was to prevent him from doing so again? She stifled a sob, hugging the pillow tightly. “What was that flash of light?” Poppy Pomfrey demanded as she rushed through the curtains surrounding Harry’s bed. “What happened? Where is he?” “He’s gone back to the land of the phoenixes,” Ginny said quietly as tears streamed down her face. “He said he’ll be back in two weeks, possibly less.” “Why?” Poppy cried, noticing the anguish on the younger woman’s face. “Why did he leave?” “He thinks he’ll heal faster there,” Ginny said with a small, disconsolate shrug. “Do you believe that?” the nurse asked, touching Ginny’s shoulder consolingly. Ginny shrugged again, sighed as she wiped furiously at her tears, then rose and went about her business, taking care of the remaining victims of the tower collapse like the good healer she was. “He’s gone where?” Jamie said, his eyes wide and frightened as he and his twin stood by their father’s empty bed. “To the land of the phoenixes,” their mother explained. “Merlin took him there. He’ll be back when he’s well.” “Well . . . erm . . . OK then,” Jamie said with a shrug, glancing at his twin for confirmation. Siri nodded in agreement and the two of them relaxed. They’d heard a bit about the land of the phoenixes when they’d overheard their Aunt Hermione talking with their grandfather one time. They knew she’d put it in one of her books, but they hadn’t read that one yet. “Let’s just tell people he’s gone to a specialist, OK?” Ginny said, eyeing her boys carefully. “We don’t want to start a lot of rumours.” “Right,” the boys agreed. Eight days later, two phoenixes flashed into the living room of Harry’s house in Godric’s Hollow about an hour before dawn. One phoenix went to his perch and began preening himself, while the other changed into Harry Potter, still in his pyjama bottoms and bandages. Harry pulled out his wand and Vanished the bandages, then stretched his muscles in every direction with satisfaction. He ran his hands over his face, arms and back and grinned, then tiptoed up the stairs to the room he shared with his wife, hoping she was home. Putting a Silencing Charm on the squeaky hinge in their door, he slipped into their room and felt joy fill his heart. There she was, her hair gleaming in the soft moonlight coming through the window. She looked tired, worn and desperately unhappy. Harry sighed, sorry that he’d made her sad, and then smiled when he pictured the welcome she’d give him. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and put it on the night table, laying his glasses beside it, then took off his pyjama bottoms and tossed them in the bin, glad to be free of the last reminder of the hospital at last. Lifting the covers as gently as possible, he slid into bed and leaned over her, preparing to kiss her, then leaped back as a wand was pointed right at his nose, with a furious redhead behind it. “Who are you and how did you get in here?” Ginny demanded. “Gin, it’s me! Harry! I’m back!” he said, grinning at her, but holding both hands up where she could see them. “Tell me something only Harry would know,” she said suspiciously as she sat up in bed, glaring at him, the wand trained steadily at his heart now. He chuckled. “You have an absolutely delicious birthmark on the back of your bum that I’m dying to nibble.” “Harry?” she said, frowning. “Harry?” She reached a trembling hand toward his face, her fingers gliding over the smooth plane of his cheek. “How . . . ? Is it really you?” “Yes, of course, silly!” he said happily. “Who else would sneak into your bed? Or do I need to hex someone?” “It’s just that . . . your face!” “What about it?” he said in sudden concern, touching his face where she had. He’d been too eager to see his wife again to be bothered with looking at himself in a mirror. His skin felt fine — what if it didn’t look fine? “It’s . . . it’s perfect! You had such awful burns, they should have scarred horribly! How did they heal them?” She was fully awake now. “Get up, turn on a light. I want to see you!” Harry obediently got out of bed and held his hand toward the bedside lamp, lit it wandlessly, then turned slowly in place so she could see every inch of him. Ginny laughed in delight, a low throaty sound. “I’d say you’re glad to see me,” she said at last, grinning at him. “Oh yeah,” he breathed, sitting on the bed next to her and smoothing her sleep-tumbled hair away from her face. “I’ve missed you.” “Tell me how this kind of healing is possible, and then I’ll give you the best welcome home ever,” she promised. “I went through a Burning Day,” he said simply as he began kissing the tender spot behind her ear, planting soft kisses down her neck to her collarbone. Ginny put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. “Wait. A burning? But you were covered with burns! How could you . . . ?” “I didn’t say it was pain-free,” he said with a grimace, “but it was the best thing to do.” He could see she wanted more information before she’d let him get back to work making her nerve endings sing, so he sat up and cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking the lovely soft skin there with his thumb as he spoke. “When a phoenix experiences a Burning Day, it’s reborn as a baby bird,” he began. “You know this.” She nodded. “Grandfather’s never been through a burning, nor did Merlin ever return to human form after one, so I was quite nervous about it. I mean, yeah, I became a baby bird again after taking that Killing Curse in the Battle of Little Hangleton, but I didn’t go through a burning then. Since Voldemort’s death, I’ve spent my time in the Chamber of Knowledge researching everything possible about phoenixes and Animagi to satisfy my curiosity, but there just isn’t that much information on either subject. While I was lying there in the hospital wing trying to recover after fighting the dragon, I thought about all my research and remembered that no wizard has ever gone through a burning as far as anyone knows. But then I realized there was no reason to think it wouldn’t work.” He shrugged. “It seemed logical to me, and Merlin agreed with me. Then he started insisting I do it as soon as I was strong enough to transform. And that’s what we did. Merlin and the other phoenixes watched over me while I went through the burning, and then Merlin stayed with me as I grew again. As I grew, I noticed I had feathers all over my body again, rather than the bare places I had when I was injured, but I didn’t know how successful the burning and rebirth were until I changed back into a human in the living room a few minutes ago.” “Your skin is perfect,” Ginny said, leaning around to look at his back. “Oh my! Harry! It really is perfect!” She grabbed his right arm and slid her hands down the inside of his forearm. “The scars are gone, all of them! The gashes from the dragon’s claws, the whip scars from Voldemort, the knife scar on your arm here from Wormtail —” She pulled him into a standing position again, turning him so she could study him closely in the light. “Even the scar on your bum you got as a child is gone!” she said in delight. “Your skin is gorgeous! Not one scar!” She looked up at him and noticed his hand had immediately gone to his forehead. “I still have one,” he said with a rueful grin. “I guess curse scars are immune to this kind of healing.” He looked at his right hand as he dropped it from his face. “Look at that! The words from Umbridge’s foul quill are gone too! And so are the brands from my wand! Wow!” “It’s a miracle!” Ginny said, taking his right hand in both of hers and turning it over, looking for old wounds that were only memories now. “I have better things to do with that hand than let you look for scars,” he said huskily, taking his hand from hers and gliding it down the sweet curve of her back as he pulled her to him. “And when did you go back to sleeping in my t-shirts? You haven’t done that in years,” he said as his hands slipped under the bottom of the shirt and began to lift it off of her. “This was the shirt you wore at home the day before you were injured,” she said simply as her head came free of the old London Lions t-shirt that was one of Harry’s favourites. “It still smelled like you, and I missed you so much,” she added, rubbing her cheek against the dusting of dark hair on his chest and drinking deeply of the lovely clean scent of her healthy husband. “I missed you too,” he said, lifting her in his arms and kissing her soundly as he laid her back on the bed. He began a trail of kisses from her mouth, to her eyes, her nose, both cheeks, the hollow of her throat, the sides of her neck, her ears, back down the sides of her neck again and down the length of her body. He gave each breast careful attention, relishing his wife’s moans of ecstasy. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he lifted himself over her. “I love you so much.” “I love you, baby,” Ginny sighed, happy tears streaming down her face. “Don’t ever leave me again.” “I’m staying right here for as long as you’ll let me,” he promised. “Forever, then.” “Forever and a day,” he agreed, then went back to concentrating on loving her. Finally, he relaxed against her, sighing contentedly. Some time later, Ginny opened her eyes and chuckled. “What?” he said, raising up on one elbow to study her face. “We’re flying again,” she said, gesturing to the ceiling that was much closer to them than normal. “I know how you love to fly,” he said with a warm chuckle. “I did that just for you.” She turned her head to the side and studied their position in relation to the pictures hanging on the walls. “Hmmm. At least eight feet high this time. You are a happy lad, aren’t you?” she teased. “Yes,” he replied, nuzzling her neck for a moment before resting his head on her shoulder, loving the feeling of her fingers running through his hair, of her body entangled so comfortably with his. “It’s good to be home.” “Kids! Breakfast!” Ginny called some time later. “Hurry! Aunt Hermione will be here soon to take you to school!” Ginny and Hermione took turns hauling their broods to the local wizarding primary school. This was Hermione’s week to do it. “You sound happy this morning,” Dan said as he slid down the banister on one hip. “What’s up?” “I am,” Harry said, grabbing his son from behind and spinning him around, then gnawing gently on his neck while growling like a bear. “How are you?” “Dad! When did you get home? You look great! Mum said — never mind,” Dan cried, staring at his father’s face as Harry set him down. “Always believe your mother, no matter what she says,” Harry admonished him. “I was a wee bit damaged, but I’m fine now.” “You were more than a wee bit damaged,” Dan said, raising an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of his father’s sceptical look. “Well, yeah, maybe a bit more than a wee bit,” Harry agreed, then turned to grab his twin daughters as they bounded down the stairs crying, “Daddy! Daddy!” “How are my little beauties this morning?” he said, lifting one in each arm and kissing each of them soundly on the cheek. “It’s so good to see you!” Lily said. “I missed you, Daddy!” Beth chimed in. “DAD!” John and Brian said together as they reached the landing and saw what the commotion was about. Dumbledore entered the room from his suite just then. “Harry! How are you, dear boy?” he said, extending his arms for a hug. “I’m fine, Grandfather. How are you?” “Much better, now that you’re home. You look wonderful! The phoenixes did a good job.” Dumbledore beamed at his grandson. Not one trace of a burn mark showed on any of his exposed skin. It was a miracle! Harry grabbed John and Brian playfully and spun them around, then hauled them to the breakfast table, a twin tucked under each arm. A noisy, happy breakfast ensued, with Harry rushing so he could get to school on time himself. “You’re going to work on your first day home?” Ginny said, looking a bit hurt. “I have two more boys to greet,” Harry reminded her, “and I’ve been out of class long enough anyway. I want to get back.” A few minutes later, Harry was ready to go, having kissed his wife and five of his seven children goodbye, and given his grandfather another warm hug. Harry couldn’t wait to see his other two children, Jamie and Siri, who had helped their mother care for him when he was so badly injured. He hoped they weren’t too worried about him. He waved at his family once more before nodding at Merlin to take flight so he could flash them to school. Just as Merlin started to lift his wings, there was a knock at the door. “That will be Hermione,” Ginny said, moving toward the door. “Do you want to say hello to her before you leave?” “Yeah, sure!” Harry said, relaxing again. Ginny opened the door and saw Hermione was standing there, her hand raised, ready to knock again. Her younger children were gathered behind her, dressed for school. “Hi, Gin! Are the kids ready?” Hermione asked. Then she looked closer at her sister-in-law’s radiant face. “What’s happened? You’re glowing!” “He’s back!” Ginny grinned and turned with her arm outstretched toward her husband. “He is? Is he all right?” Hermione said, peeping around Ginny to see Harry. “I’m perfect,” Harry replied, a cheeky grin firmly in place. “What else would I be?” “Oh, Harry! We’ve been so worried!” Hermione cried, throwing herself into his arms. “I’m sorry I worried you, but I had to go. It’s good to be home,” he said, hugging her tightly. “How are you?” “I’m the one who should be asking that,” she chided him. She pulled back and looked him over seriously. “You look marvellous! How ever did you manage it?” “I went through a burning,” he said. “Ginny can tell you about it, I’m running late. Or just come over for dinner tonight and we can chat then.” He glanced across the room and got a grin and an approving nod from his wife. “There, it’s all fixed. See you later!” He kissed his best friend on the cheek and ruffled the hair of her children, then nodded at Merlin. An instant later, the two of them flashed away from Godric’s Hollow and arrived in his classroom at Hogwarts. Harry moved around his classroom, trying to discern from things he saw out of place what Minerva might have been teaching the class. He opened the lap drawer of his desk and pulled out his lesson plan book, looking to see which lessons she might have checked off. “Harry! You’re back!” Minerva cried as she entered the room. “And you look fantastic! I didn’t think those burns would heal so well!” “They wouldn’t have if I hadn’t gone through a burning,” Harry said, glancing up at her. “A phoenix burning,” he corrected, seeing her confused look. “I’ll tell you about it later. But it worked, even on old scars. Look at this,” he said, holding out his right hand. “No animal brands,” she said in awe. “And the lines from Umbridge are gone as well,” he said, turning his hand over for her to see. “Amazing!” “Yeah,” he said, grinning happily. “I feel great! Now where did you leave off? Thanks for taking my classes for me.” After conferring a few minutes, Harry knew what his students had covered and what they were to learn next. He thanked the headmistress and went to his storage room to get the materials his first class would need. McGonagall returned to her office, glad to have only one job to deal with once more. While he was gone, the class began filing in and settling in their seats. They knew Professor McGonagall was sometimes late to class because of her duties as headmistress, so they weren’t surprised she wasn’t there to greet them. They were delightfully shocked to see Harry come out of the storage room. “Professor Potter!” “Uncle Harry!” “DAD!” his students cried at once, obviously delighted to see him. Harry grinned at the class. “Good morning! I’ve missed you,” he said, glancing around the room. He chuckled at the rowdy quads as they bounced in their seats trying to get his attention, then smiled warmly at his own sons who had run toward him when they saw him, and now stood staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Harry moved to stand in front of them, a grin on his face and his arms extended in greeting. “Hello, James, Sirius. It’s good to see you again.” The twins ran into his arms and hugged him tightly. “It’s Jamie, Dad,” his oldest said when he lifted his face to gaze at his father. “And Siri,” his second son added. Harry smiled and held them close, then rubbed their heads and stepped back from them. The boys returned to their seats. Harry was delighted to see that Richard was sitting by them again. Their friendship had been damaged by the twins’ attitudes, but now they seemed to have mended their relationship. He smiled at Richard, then looked over at the quads and said, “I’ll chat with you lot after class, all right? Let’s get to work.” All of Harry’s classes that morning were a delight to him; the students were glad to see him and worked hard at whatever he was teaching them once they got past their rambunctious celebration of his return. They made him laugh, and he returned the favour. Was there anything as wonderful as teaching eager young minds? He didn’t think so. At lunch, Harry sat between Remus and Minerva, filling them in on his experiences with the phoenixes as he ate. Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of two large grey owls delivering a long, thin package. “What do you suppose that is?” Remus said, a twinkle in his eye. “No idea,” Harry said, grinning at him. He saw owls delivering similar packages to both Jamie and Siri and wondered what was up. When he opened the package, he laughed out loud. “Wow! A new Excalibur Potter Special Mark II!” he said as he lifted the handsome broom from the wrappings. “Look at that,” Remus said, pointing to the handle. Under the broom’s name, Harry’s name was inscribed in elegant gold letters, followed by a carving of a dragon. “That’s beautiful!” “Yeah, it is,” Harry agreed. “Who sent it to you?” Minerva asked. “Looks like your boys each got the same kind of broom.” “The same kind? This is the fastest broom in the world!” Harry said, gazing at his boys with a hint of worry in his eyes. “Harry? You were riding a Nimbus 2000 when you were eleven and had only been on a broom a few times, remember? They’ll be able to handle these brooms,” Remus assured him. “They’ve been learning how to fly since they could walk, and their teacher was the best Seeker in the world. They’ll be fine.” Harry blushed a bit at his godfather’s compliment, then looked at the delight on his boys’ faces. They were looking at him now, grinning hugely and holding their brooms up for him to see. Harry nodded and grinned back at them, lifting his broom a bit as well. “Oh, here’s a card,” Minerva said as she moved the wrappings off of the serving dishes. She handed the card to Harry, who opened it quickly. “It’s from Jason Kavanaugh, president of the Firebolt company,” Harry said as he glanced at the letter. “So what does he say?” Remus prompted. “Nosy git, aren’t you?” Harry teased. “Yes,” Remus agreed, laughing with his godson. “OK,” Harry replied. Dear Harry, This is the broom you and I discussed months ago. I’ve incorporated all the changes you suggested, and I believe you’ll find it flies much better now. All the test flights have been marked by excellent performance and no problems at all. I think it will be a big seller. I certainly appreciate your help in the design of the new Potter Special. I’m sending one of these brooms to each of your sons, James and Sirius. I hope you don’t mind. My two children were in Ravenclaw Tower when the dragon attacked. Your courage saved their lives. Your son James’s quick action in sending you his broom when yours failed, saved your life and those of many who were still in the tower, my children included. Sirius was a tremendous help in the Hospital Wing, which I saw with my own eyes when I was there visiting my children. Your boys are certainly a credit to you, Harry, and it’s my great pleasure to give them these brooms. Thank you for all you’ve done to help the wizarding world over the years, Harry, and for the tremendous pleasure we’ve had in watching you play Quidditch. Now a generation of children is learning to fly from the greatest flyer ever, and learning Transfiguration from a multiple Animagus. They are truly blessed, and I mean that sincerely. A new Potter Special has been sent to your wife today, as well. I remember what a wonderful flyer she is. I hope she will enjoy it. I plan to outfit your whole family (including all those nephews) with new brooms, if you will allow me to. I don’t want to send Potter Specials to young children or inexperienced flyers, since these brooms are so responsive and quick, but I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t given you a choice on accepting these four brooms. However, I will give you a choice as to which brooms and how many you want for the rest of your immediate and extended family. Please send me a list of the proper brooms and the recipients your earliest convenience. I trust your judgement in the proper choices for your loved ones. And I simply refuse to hear any arguments about my giving your family these brooms. Those two children are my life. You and your sons saved them. This is the least I can do to thank you. Enjoy the brooms! Kindest regards, Jason Kavanaugh, President Firebolt Brooms, Inc. “Well!” Minerva said. “That’s a marvellous letter, Harry! What a kind man, and what a lovely way to thank you.” “Yes, it is,” Harry said, smiling as he re-read the letter. He glanced up at his boys and saw they were reading their letters, too. “Excuse me,” he said as he rose from the table, broom and letter firmly in hand. Harry walked down the length of the Ravenclaw table and stopped behind the Kavanaugh children, a First Year and a Second Year, both of them delicately built and small for their ages. “Hi, Roberta, Rachel. How are you?” “We’re fine, Professor!” The girls’ voices were light and dainty. “We enjoyed class today!” “It appears you had time to write a note to your dad,” he said with a crooked grin, waving his letter in front of them. “Did you do this?” Both girls blushed. “Erm . . . yes. We let him know you were back,” Roberta replied. “He asked us to tell him when you returned.” “Obeying your father is best,” Harry said, smiling. “Thank you, girls. This is a beautiful broom. I can’t wait to try it out. Nor can my boys, I expect.” “We didn’t know how else to thank you for what you did,” Rachel said, blushing a bit. “This is a very fine thank you indeed,” Harry assured her. “I’m glad you’re all right. See you in class.” He smiled at them, then turned and walked over to the Gryffindor table, which was buzzing with excitement. “DAD! Did you see?” Jamie cried excitedly. “What’s yours like?” Siri added. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Harry replied with a grin, laying his broom on the table alongside those of his boys. “Look at that. They each have a dragon carved on them. I wonder if that’s going to be the standard for this broom?” Harry mused. “No, Mr. Kavanaugh said in his letter that he did that just for your broom and ours,” Jamie replied, his eyes sparkling with delight. “They’re special, just for us.” “Wasn’t that nice of him?” Harry said, grinning at his beaming boys. “I think we need to try them out after class today. What do you say?” “Yeah!” both boys agreed. “Can we have a go, Uncle Harry?” one of the quads asked. “Yeah, sure! See all of you later, then,” Harry replied. “Boys, shrink those brooms and put them away so you don’t get in trouble in your classes.” “OK,” his sons agreed. In the late afternoon sunlight, three Potters stood astride three new Firebolt Excalibur Potter Special brooms. All the Weasley nephews and many others were gathered to watch the Potters try out the brooms. Harry was patiently explaining the controls to the boys. “These controls are a lot more complex than you’re used to, and the broom is much faster than anything you’ve ridden, as well as being more responsive. You need to start out slowly,” Harry warned them. He glanced up at his nephews, who were eyeing the brooms hungrily. “You lot paying attention?” “Start out slowly,” Tim and Luke said together. “Complex controls,” Richard added. “Fast and responsive!” the other set of twins chorused. “Well done!” Harry laughed and looked at his sons. “Ready?” “Yes!” Jamie and Siri cried with one voice. “Kick off slowly, then. Let’s go.” Harry and his sons flew low and slow at first as the boys learned how the controls worked. As their skills increased, Harry let them go faster, until finally he felt safe letting them fly at will. When they had satisfied their urge for speed a bit, they turned to their dad. “Show us what these brooms will do, Dad!” Jamie urged. “Yeah! Go on, Dad!” Siri agreed. “You don’t have to ask twice!” Harry said, laughing. He leaned forward and the broom leaped beneath him, racing forward at breakneck speed. He lay flat along the broom handle and urged it on, “Go, go, go, go, go!” He did barrel rolls and spirals and dives that made the onlookers scream in terror that he was going to crash. Harry whooped with delight as the broom performed better than he’d dreamed possible. Harry Potter was in his element, racing the clouds across the sky, his sons at his side. I have everything a man could want, he thought as the thrill of flying merged with his love of his wife and children, and his joy at his renewed health and safe return home. He grinned and whooped again, streaking across the sky with his black hair blowing madly in the breeze, his emerald green eyes alight with ecstasy, a happy man indeed. Soon after his return from the land of the phoenixes, Harry Potter found a new giant squid that didn’t mind relocating and donated it to the school in memory of Sebastian. Harry replaced Remus Lupin as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and head of Gryffindor House when Remus retired. When Minerva McGonagall retired, Harry became the headmaster of the school, a job he retained and enjoyed for the rest of his very long life. Like his grandfather, Harry was also a consultant to the government when needed, served as Chief Warlock on the Wizangamot for many years, and served as Supreme Mugwump on the International Confederation of Wizards. He served as a consultant to the ministries of other countries when asked, and also suggested and helped write new laws whenever needed. He and Ginny had seven children, a full “Quidditch team” as they’d hoped: twins James and Sirius, Dan, twins John and Brian, and twins Lily and Molly Elizabeth, known as “Beth.” All of the children except Dan had Harry’s green eyes. Dan’s were blue. The girls were both redheads like Ginny, and all the boys had black hair like Harry’s except for Dan, whose hair was dark brown. Ginny Weasley Potter replaced the retiring Madam Pomfrey when all of the Potter children were finally at Hogwarts. She and Harry had a long, happy life together with many grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren to brighten their lives. And Harry made sure she not only had the best possible broom at all times, but that she had always lovely horses to ride. Hagrid was delighted to build a stable and care for the horses Ginny, Harry and their children loved to race across Hogwarts’ grounds when they were in residence there. Ron Weasley became the Minister of Magic and changed many laws that were unfair or unequally enforced. He became one of the best and longest-termed Ministers in history. His name was forever linked with Harry Potter’s in wizarding history books, which Ron found ironic. He laughed to think of the many generations of kids who would be bored stiff in History of Magic class hearing about his exploits with Harry. He and Hermione had three sons: Richard, Will and Cliff, all of whom Hermione named after men who she’d either enjoyed reading about, or who were writers themselves (“Richard the Lionheart,” the wizard playwright William Shakespeare and the character “Heathcliff” from “Wuthering Heights”). Hermione Granger-Weasley became well-known in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds (although she used a pen name in the Muggle world) as the author of the Harry Potter books, which were also made into Muggle films. She found it amusing that the boy chosen to play Harry looked so much like Harry’s blue-eyed son Dan, and even had the same first name. Of course, this writer isn’t going to say that Dan Potter is billed in the films as Dan Radcliffe, but you’re welcome to draw your own conclusions. Dobby and Winky, the Potters’ house-elves, had seven children who grew up as playmates and babysitters of the Potter children. When they were grown, each young elf went to live with one of the Potter children and served them as bodyguards, house-elves and friends all their lives. Harry helped Dobby quietly spread his message of freedom for house-elves throughout the land. Hermione’s childhood dream of elf emancipation finally came true when Ron was able to enact legislation freeing house-elves everywhere. Dobby and Winky’s children and other elves throughout the wizarding world were able to marry and have children born in freedom, as they had been, as a result. Fred and George Weasley became rich beyond their wildest dreams by selling joke products to wizards around the world. They also developed a line of products for Muggles: magic wands that turned into umbrellas or bouquets of flowers with the flick of a wrist, then turned back into a wand with a slightly different flick of the wrist, and many other such items. Their wives kept them in line well enough and raised large broods of sons for them, nearly all of whom were as rowdy as their fathers. Charlie Weasley and his wife spent their lives studying dragons in Wales while their five redheaded boys were small, then travelled the world doing research once their nest emptied. Remus Lupin taught Defence Against the Dark Arts until his retirement, and served as head of Gryffindor House when Minerva McGonagall became Headmistress. Remus campaigned for werewolf rights for years, as well as promoting the use of the Lycanthropy Cure which had worked so well for him. His children showed no signs of Lycanthropy, for which Remus was extremely grateful. He doted on his two children, Matthew and Bonnie. He’d never expected to be able to marry, much less have children. His life was a happy one, with a loving wife, two intelligent, healthy, happy children, and his family’s inclusion in the extensive Potter-Weasley clan, who they joined for all holiday and birthday celebrations and every London Lions Quidditch game they could manage. He was considered a grandfather by the Potter children, which pleased him immensely, and his own children found good-hearted spouses and provided him with a happy brood of healthy grandchildren, as well. Tonks Lupin retired from the Auror ranks when her children were born, only going back on active duty when both of them were at Hogwarts. She joined Remus in his campaign for werewolf rights and in promoting the Lycanthropy Cure. They lived a long and happy life together. She doted on Harry, Ginny and their children, acting like a very young grandmother to them long before she was a grandmother in reality. The London Lions regretted losing Harry as Captain when he left them to work at Hogwarts full time, but they didn’t miss seeing him at home games. Harry kept the huge family box at the Lions stadium long after he left the team. The Lupins, Potters and Weasleys, sometimes joined by the Dursleys, went to as many home games as they could manage, cheering the Lions on to many championships. Eventually, the Potter-Weasley clan needed to use an Enlarging Charm on the box, because their extended family had grown so large. Neville Longbottom married a witch he met in the Greek isles while researching Mediterranean water plants. His books became the definitive authorities on the subject and were used by both professional herbologists and school teachers alike. Dean Thomas went to art school and got into advertising, using his art skills to create wonderful ads for many companies in the wizarding world. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes were his biggest clients. He also did illustrations and cover art for Hermione Granger-Weasley’s Harry Potter books. He enjoyed his life as a bachelor, squiring beautiful women, whether witch or Muggle, to many plays, parties, gallery openings and other social events. Parvati Patil became a designer of women’s dress robes, working her way up at Gladrags Wizardwear, mostly at the Paris location. She married a French wizard but had no children, because she was afraid she’d lose her figure through childbearing. Lavender Brown married a Muggle and became a psychic catering to the Muggle trade. She had two children and became comfortably cuddly in the process. Her husband was just glad there was more of her to love. Luna Lovegood took over the Quibbler when her father retired. It’s read world-wide now and is famous for its pictures of strange monsters and visits from aliens. She has earned enough money from the Quibbler to start a foundation dedicated to finding a live example of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack and bringing it to England for study. She felt she was too busy to settle down, so she remained unmarried. Albus Dumbledore lived with his grandson and his family for many happy years. When he left on “the next great adventure,” he was buried in the church yard in Godric’s Hollow near Harry’s parents. Minerva McGonagall spent her retirement years writing down the stories told to her by Merlin the phoenix. She has every hope of publishing them before she dies. She and Hagrid were delighted to welcome a new giant squid to Hogwarts soon after Harry’s return from the land of the phoenixes. She maintained a close friendship with Merlin, enjoying many conversations with the phoenix particularly on long winter evenings. Merlin remained Harry Potter’s phoenix and enjoyed watching the new generations of witches and wizards work their way through Hogwarts. He spent many a delightful hour telling his stories to Minerva McGonagall as well as Harry and his family. Severus Snape continued to teach at Hogwarts until ill health forced his retirement. The Dark Mark and botched Killing Curse took an unforeseen toll on his body, giving him frail health at a much younger age than normal. He did find happiness at last, when he married the young widow of the Hogsmeade apothecary. They had one son, who Severus was pleased to see looked like his wife and had her disposition rather than his. Snape wrote several text books on Potions and the Dark Mark before he died. Harry Potter chose to use these books at Hogwarts when he became headmaster. Madam Bones retired from the Ministry after serving for several years. She kept her seat on the Wizangamot and became a trusted advisor to Ron Weasley when he became Minister. Dudley Dursley finally met a woman who would put up with him, and married her. She put him on a diet right away and ran a strictly disciplined house, which seemed to suit Dudley quite well. He worked his way up through the ranks at Grunnings until he was a Director like his father. Petunia Dursley stayed in contact with Harry Potter the rest of her life. She and Vernon spent holidays with the Potter family as often as possible. Vernon and Dudley even came to enjoy some of their holidays in the wizarding world, although they were never as tolerant of wizard pranks as wizards would be. They also enjoyed going to the occasional London Lions game with the Potter-Weasley clan. Anthony Joyero, the jeweller, continued to make unique jewellery for Ginny and Hermione, and medals and awards for the Ministry. He was delighted whenever Harry Potter provided him with mosaic picture frames or jewellery boxes to sell. They always sold very quickly and for excellent prices. Joyero retired a very wealthy, very happy man, and was a good friend of Harry Potter throughout his life. Colin and Dennis Creevey spent their careers working for the London Lions, Colin as their photographer, Dennis in the marketing department. Both married sweet witches who provided comfortable homes and two children each. Alex McCullough went into medical research, inspired by his work on the Healer Squad in the D.A. He spent many evenings in front of a cosy fire telling his children stories about the fabled Harry Potter, who he felt truly blessed to have known while in school. Dan Jacobs and his band, Toads in the Loo, had thirty albums go multiple-crystal. When Dan tired of touring, he became a record producer and delighted in discovering talented newcomers. He married the woman who had started his first fan club and had four children, all of whom joined him in the music business. Author's afterword: I hope you have enjoyed these two Harry Potter novels, “The Refiner’s Fire” and “The Time of Destiny,” as much as I have writing them. Thanks so much for your many kind reviews! Remember to vote for The Time of Destiny in S.I.Y.E Dumbledore's Silver Trinket Awards for February 2006. Details are on the home page of S.I.Y.E. London Lions T-shirts are now available! Click here to order them. |
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