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aidanchaser · 2 years ago

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Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute and @somebodyswatson

Nineteen Years Later

Harry James Potter could not remember the last time he had seen Diagon Alley so crowded. His hopes of coming on a weekday to avoid the crowds of parents shopping for their Hogwarts-age children were fully dashed as he squeezed around a witch and her child in an attempt to reach Madam Malkin’s. He nearly dropped the bag of Potions supplies, but he caught it on his pinky before it slipped from his hand. He adjusted the stack of books under his arm to get a better hold on it and, briefly, regretted letting Ginny take their daughter to the Magical Menagerie so she could look at the animals while the boys finished shopping for their Hogwarts things.

Despite his heavy burden, he reached the steps of Madam Malkin’s safely. The shop’s purple paint was dull and chipped and in desperate need of a touch up, and Harry couldn’t remember it ever having been all that new-looking, even when he was a boy.

Harry glanced behind him to make sure his boys were following, but he could only see one of them.

“James, where’s your brother?”

James Henry Potter was tall for his age, but still dwarfed by the crowd around him. His hair was as dark and messy as his namesakes’ and though he ought to be wearing the glasses they’d purchased for him last spring, he had forgone them today. He complained, quite frequently, that they weren’t cool, and he wasn’t going to be caught dead wearing them out of the house. Harry and Ginny had told him that death could be arranged if he came home with another failing mark this year. Being unable to read the chalkboard was no longer an excuse.

James glanced over his shoulder and, upon finding himself a momentary only child, shrugged. “Guess he got lost.”

Harry adjusted the books under his arm and, though he did not have enough grip in his right hand to actually grab James, managed to get enough of a hold on his shoulder to tug him into the relative safety of the steps of Madam Malkin’s shop. There was at least a slight ebb to the crowd here. Harry pulled James back against the window as a witch and her daughter came out of the shop, burdened with packages of robes.

Harry craned his neck over the crowd in search of his second son while James fidgeted with his wand, entirely unconcerned.

Finally, Harry caught sight of a small, dark-haired boy trying very hard to reach the steps of Madam Malkin’s, but he kept stopping to apologise every time he bumped into someone.

Harry set the bag of potions equipment down so that he could grab the corner of his son’s sleeve and pull him up the steps to Madam Malkin’s.

“Stay close, alright?” Harry said.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Nothing to apologise for.”

Harry pushed open the door for his boys and led them into Madam Malkin’s. There was only one couple and their son in the shop, chatting with Madam Malkin about school robes.

Harry recognized the tall, well-dressed man by his pale blonde hair instantly. “Malfoy?”

Draco Lucius Malfoy and his wife turned stiffly, but their surprise quickly relaxed into friendly smiles.

Astoria Nyx Malfoy took Harry’s hand and kissed his cheek. “It’s been too long,” she said.

Malfoy greeted Harry with a much less intimate handshake.

“It has been a while.” Harry tried not to stare, but he could not help taking a moment to examine Astoria.

When Malfoy and Astoria had begun their relationship, Malfoy had brought her to their regular teas with Regulus Black, but ever since their son had been born, Malfoy and Astoria had been scarce guests. Harry knew that life could get busy with children, but Regulus had always said it was alright to bring the kids. Harry and Ginny could hardly have attended otherwise, especially once their third child had arrived. And though Harry hated to heed rumour, Malfoy and Astoria’s absence from their regular teas with Regulus had lent credence to the whispers that Astoria’s health was failing.

“You look well,” Harry said, because it was polite to say so, though he found her rather thin and her face was rather pale.

“As do you,” Astoria replied. “Have you met our son Scorpius yet?”

Harry introduced the Malfoys to his sons as well. James had been little more than an infant the last time the Malfoys had seen him, so Astoria properly oohed and aahed about what a fine man he was growing into.

“Growing into a man and out of his robes,” Harry laughed and squeezed James’ shoulder. “I think he’s put on a foot in the last year alone.”

“Then let’s get you all sorted,” Madam Malkin said, approaching with a tape measure in hand. “Which robes does everyone need?”

The younger boys both were in need of first year robes. James needed new Gryffindor robes.

“Why am I not surprised?” Malfoy muttered with a grim smile.

“Dad, can I get Quidditch practice robes, too?” James asked. “My old ones are too short.”

His old ones were also falling apart at the seams from wear and tear. Harry was convinced that James crashed into the ground as much as he did not only because he was determined to master all the trick plays Ginny knew, but because he enjoyed having scrapes and bruises to show off.

“That depends,” Harry said, “on your marks this year.”

“Yes, yes, I promise I’ll do my best in school.”

It was given the way all of James’ promises were given: hastily and without concern for consequence.

“Alright, you can get two new sets of practice robes. Wait —” Harry stopped James before he could disappear to the fitting room with Madam Malkin. “Wand, James.”

“But I’ve been good all day!” James protested.

“You’re not in trouble; we’re just preventing trouble.”

James hesitated as he weighed the choice of giving up his wand against the tentatively earned practice robes, but finally handed his wand over to Harry. Then he hurried into the back with Madam Malkin to pick out his Quidditch practice robes. Harry would not be surprised if James came back with Quidditch robes only and no school robes.

Astoria followed the boys, and Harry, grateful for the opportunity of a brief break, set down his burdens and sank into one of the chairs in the foyer.

Malfoy, after a moment’s hesitation, joined him.

“James sounds like a handful,” Malfoy said.

Harry smiled, but shrugged his shoulders. “No more than I deserve.”

Malfoy laughed. “I think Scorpius has more of Astoria in him than me. He’s too good for his own good.”

“Are you worried about sending him to Hogwarts?”

Malfoy didn’t answer right away. Though his posture was perfect, his hand fidgeted uncomfortably with the chain of his pocketwatch. He opened his mouth to answer, then changed his mind and closed it. “Yes,” he finally said. “We’re worried.”

Harry did not press. He had learned from years of Auror interrogations that sometimes the best way to get information from a suspect was to say nothing at all. But Malfoy did not take the bait.

After a lengthy and uncomfortable pause, Harry finally said, “He’ll be alright. I can put in a good word with his professors if you like. Ask them to look out for him.”

Malfoy cast Harry a withering glance. “I suppose you’re close with all the Hogwarts staff these days.”

“Most of them,” Harry grinned, but sobered his smile quickly when Malfoy did not smile back. “You know Remus will look out for him.”

Malfoy pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He stared at the watch face for a bit longer than necessary before tucking it away again. “I haven’t spoken with Lupin in years. I’m not sure he’d take my owl.”

“I think you know Remus fairly well. Do you really think he’d ignore a letter from you?”

Malfoy’s smile was bitter. “After what my mother did?”

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheek. From a certain perspective, the very public war waged by Narcissa Malfoy against Remus Lupin was Draco’s fault. Draco had made the decision to get married, which meant moving out of his parents house, something that had greatly upset Narcissa Malfoy. Depending on who you asked, her tears at Draco’s wedding had been the product of joy, grief, or even anger.

Not long after Draco’s wedding, Narcissa Malfoy sued for custody of Delphini Lestrange. It became, according to the Daily Prophet, the largest scandal in wizarding history since Rita Skeeter’s biography of Albus Dumbledore had revealed his true ties to Gellert Grindelwald.

Dora was criticised, of course, by the purists for her father’s Muggle-born heritage and Sirius was criticised for his reckless youth and unprestigious profession. But even the moderates did not quite know what to make of their relationship to each other. No matter how many times they denied intimacy, on paper, Dora was a single mother living with two men she wasn’t married to, one of whom was her pureblooded cousin, whose parents had actually been cousins. The Prophet and Witch Weekly alike had a field day with that.

The Potters, too, were referenced frequently, but no one suffered from the attention as much as Remus did.

His curse was widely known, between Snape outing him and the Prophet publishing his face during the war with “dangerous werewolf” printed beneath it, alongside a hefty bounty. But even that had not made this new publicity any easier to bear.

In the interest of appearing neutral on the issue, the Prophet had published two opinion pieces under the heading, “Remus Lupin: Man or Monster?” One had been written by Dean Thomas, who had praised Lupin for being a kind professor, an excellent duelist, and a careful father, not to mention war hero. The other had been written by Damocles Belby, a supposed expert on werewolves who even held an Order of Merlin. Harry could at least give Belby credit for inventing the potion that allowed Remus to keep his sanity each full moon, but he would never forgive Belby for pointing out in his article that while his potion, when taken appropriately, allowed a werewolf to maintain their mental facilities, it did not make a werewolf’s bite any less contagious.

Remus had handed his resignation to McGonagall that morning, but Harry had heard from Regulus, who had heard from Phineas Nigellus, that McGonagall had torn Remus’ resignation up in front of him and said, “You may go back to your classroom and teach or stay up here and take care of my work while I teach your students, but we both have jobs that need to be done and quitting because people don’t like how we do our jobs won’t get them done any better.”

Despite McGonagall’s insistence that he stay, Remus had taken a brief leave of absence and Lily had taken over for Defence Against the Dark Arts for a time.

The end result was, truth be told, better than Harry could have hoped for. Hermione had campaigned on Remus’ behalf and Del’s behalf. Her hard work had ended with the Werewolf Registration Act stricken from the record alongside several related laws about werewolf employment and marriages. She also got custody of Del fully returned to not just Dora but to Remus and Sirius, as well as a recognition of Remus and Dora’s marriage as legitimate. And while at the time, Remus and Sirius’ marriage had held no standing in a Muggle court, wizards at least recognized partnerships of all sorts. Hermione had made sure theirs was added to the marriage record as well.

Ultimately, it had been a huge victory for werewolf legislation and equal treatment, but the stress it had put them all through hardly felt worth it.

“Remus doesn’t blame you for any of that,” Harry said.

Malfoy’s grim expression was unchanged. “He ought to.”

“Your mum lost her head because you grew up. I don’t think that makes it your fault.”

Malfoy rubbed his jaw as indecision flickered in his grey eyes. He looked washed out, pale and worn. Not unlike his wife.

Finally, he said. “I might have told her, in a fit of temper, that Lupin was the best professor I ever had. I might have tried to put him on the guest list for my wedding, and if I had been the one to have any final say in those invitations, he would have gotten one. But if I had kept my mouth shut around my mother, if I had let her think I believed everything that she did about the world, maybe she would never have gone after him the way that she did.”

“Hippogriff shit,” Harry said. “She never liked that Del lived with them, and the only reason she didn’t offer to take Del in herself was because she had you to worry about. She was always going to go after Del the minute you were married.”

“Maybe if I had married someone who thought like she did, someone who promised to raise grandchildren the way that she wanted, she wouldn’t have bothered with Del.”

“You can’t blame it all on you growing up and falling in love with a reasonable human being. At least, I hear Astoria is reasonable. I feel like I hardly know her.”

“She is reasonable,” Malfoy said. “The most reasonable person I’ve ever met.” His fingers fidgeted with his watch chain again.

Harry, instinctively, chose to remain silent, to let Malfoy fill the space with what he was thinking. This time, it worked.

“I’ve been thinking about Lupin a lot since I met Astoria.”

But Malfoy lapsed into another silence, and Harry bit back an impulsive comment about Lupin being reasonable. He waited for Malfoy to explain, and it was a test of patience not to simply ask what Malfoy meant.

“It’s not the same,” Malfoy finally said. “I know it isn’t the same but I…” His pale eyes flicked around the shop briefly before returning to the ajar door Astoria and Scorpius had disappeared behind. “She’s not well,” Malfoy managed, “and it’s nothing like Lupin��s… curse, but it’s a curse all the same. So I… I’ve been thinking of him.”

Harry waited for Malfoy to say more, but it seemed he had wrung out all the details he could manage.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry finally said.

There was another long pause that Malfoy did not jump to fill. So Harry said, “You really should write to him.”

“I’ll consider it,” and then, as if it were a perfectly natural segue, Malfoy asked, “So James plays Quidditch?”

Harry didn’t mind the change in topic. It was far easier to talk about his kids than anything else in his life. “Chaser. Though if he wore his glasses, he’d probably manage as a decent Seeker.”

“What are kids flying these days?”

“Firebolt Supremes were the stars of the last World Cup,” Harry said. “Ginny says there’s a new Thunderbolt that’s hitting the market soon, and is supposedly better, but everyone’s a bit nervous after the inquiries into their last model.”

Malfoy shook his head. “You can’t have all the speed and all the durability, no matter what the ads say.”

“James wouldn’t give a whit about durability, but I suppose I wouldn’t have either at thirteen.”

This earned not quite a laugh, but a vaguely heavy breath and a bit of a smile from Malfoy. “No, neither would I,” he said.

The door to the fitting rooms swung open and crashed into the wall as James barrelled towards Harry, burdened beneath piles of fabric.

Astoria and the other two boys came at a more reasonable pace. Astoria’s dark brown eyes glittered with amusement at James’ energy, and her mouth quirked into a bemused smile when she saw Malfoy.

“What were you two talking about to earn that expression?” she asked.

“Quidditch,” Malfoy said.

“Don’t you dare put ideas into Scorpius’ head.”

“No one’s died playing Quidditch.”

“Not for like a hundred years anyway,” Harry put in unhelpfully.

And James excitedly added, “I think we’re due for a fatality in next year’s World Cup!” which was just the sort of joke Harry and Ginny were trying so desperately to teach James was fine for family, at home, but perhaps not for the broader public.

But Harry had set him up for it, so Harry apologised for himself, and did not make James apologise — this time.

After he repaired the damage James had done to Madam Malkin’s doorway in his excitement — which James did apologise for, and without any prompting from Harry — Harry paid for his sons’ school robes and they said their goodbyes to the Malfoys.

“Dad, can I have my wand again?” James asked as Harry shouldered open the shop door.

Harry, whose arms were once again full of books and potions ingredients and now boxes of robes, did not see how he was going to dig James’ wand out of his pocket.

“Take the potions things, please,” Harry asked, “and hold your brother’s hand. We’re nearly done. One more stop.”

Unlike Madam Malkin’s, Ollivander’s shop had received a fresh coat of paint. The windows were newly polished, and the plush pillows on the displays were brightly coloured with no sign of fading in the sun. Even the gold lettering above the shop Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. looked newly minted. The sign on the door read, Walk-ins welcome until 31st of August.

Harry paused in the middle of the street, impressed to find it so new-looking. Ollivander’s apprentice had long-passed her seventh year, but she had stayed on with Ollivander instead of starting her own shop, and she’d taken to caring for the shop as thoroughly as if it were her own. Ollivander was ageing, and she had promised to stay to help him manage the business until he was ready to retire, whenever that would be. Some days, it seemed like Ollivander would live forever.

“Dad, come on!” James pushed his father forward and tugged his brother along behind him.

Harry stepped out of the crowded street and up to the shop, but he did not go in. “We have to wait for your mum and sister.”

James, however, did not like waiting for much of anything. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then moved the bag of potions supplies to his other hand. Then he started digging through it.

While James entertained himself by investigating the potions ingredients, his brother fidgeted anxiously beside Harry.

Harry nudged his shoulder. “Alright?”

He did not look up from his shoes, but he nodded. “M’fine.”

“Don’t be nervous.”

He straightened up as if he had been scolded. “I’m not nervous.”

Harry bit back a smile. “Alright. I believe you.”

He held his very brave pose for a moment before his shoulders slumped. “James says I’m going to be in Slytherin.”

“When did he say that?”

“In the shop. He said they would pour slime in my robes to turn them green.”

Harry pursed his lips. It was a bold thing for James to tease his brother when he was already on thin ice for his marks last term.

“Scorpius said Slytherin’s a great house,” he continued in a rush, as if he were afraid he would lose courage in a moment and had to get it all out before he lost his chance, “and he said that all the best wizards were Slytherin, but James said all the worst wizards were Slytherin and Sirius doesn’t like Slytherin and I don’t want to be in Slytherin.”

Harry recalled a similar anxiety when he had first turned eleven. His mother had been stressed about other things at the time, and hadn’t taken his concern all that seriously. He didn’t blame her; his parents had had far too much to worry about when Harry had started at Hogwarts, worries Harry couldn’t even fathom having about his own children. It would be an entirely different sort of trip to Diagon Alley if Harry had been worried about a prophecy and the return of the Dark Lord.

But since he wasn’t worried about those things, he had plenty of space to spare for his son’s worry about Sorting.

“Scorpius is right. Lots of great wizards have been Slytherin. James is right, too. Lots of terrible wizards have been Slytherin. But there have been terrible Gryffindors just like there have been terrible wizards in each house. Whatever house you end up in is not a prediction of what you will become. You will make a great mark on whatever house you end up.”

“Even Slytherin?”

“Even Slytherin.”

“Even Hufflepuff?”

“Hey, how do you think Teddy would feel to hear you say it like that — James, put that down!”

James had decided to investigate a bottle of Bulbadox Juice and nearly had the cork worked off. He was a fraction of an inch away from a hand full of boils.

James dropped the bottle and Harry drew his wand, Cushioning the bottle’s fall just before it hit the ground.

“I didn’t mean to!” James said. “I just wanted to look!”

Harry could fill a library with the number of dangerous things James got into because he had “just wanted to look” or had “got bored.” Sometimes Harry thought James might be more of Sirius’ son than anyone else’s. He’d nearly been named for Sirius, but Sirius had adamantly refused to let Harry use his name for any children.

“I’m already the third with my name and I’d prefer it die here, thank you very much,” Sirius had said.

Harry carefully recorked the bottle and returned it to the bag. “It’s alright, James, just maybe don’t go fussing with potions supplies without proper supervision and equipment.”

“I promise I won’t — oh! There’s Mum!”

Whatever caution James had promised was instantly forgotten as he jumped up and waved to his mother and sister. The bottles of glass and pewter clattered in the bag dangerously, but James hardly noticed as he ran to hug his mother.

It was like having a Crup for a son.

Once Ginevra Molly Potter had reached the front of Ollivander’s shop, outside the crush of the crowd, she set her daughter down on the ground.

Lily Ginevra Potter was the spitting image of her mother. She had bright red hair, deep brown eyes, and freckles splashed across her nose. When she smiled, which she did often, there was a noticeable gap between her front teeth.

Now that her hands were free of Lily, Ginny hugged each of her boys. Then she pulled Harry into a kiss. He adjusted the books in his arms so he could slip his usable hand into hers.

“How are the animals?” Harry asked.

“Lily wants to get you a Flobberworm for your birthday.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“She thinks they’re cute. I told her we ought to talk about it before we buy a pet as a birthday present.”

“Thank you for that.”

“How were the boys?”

“They were their usual selves.” Harry shouldered open the door to Ollivander’s and ushered the children inside. “Ran into Malfoy and Astoria and their boy while we were in Madame Malkin’s.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “They’re out and about?” But she did not press Harry for details once they were inside the shop.

It was a small space, and the five Potters filled almost the entire shop. Like the fresh coat of paint on the outside, the boxes had been dusted recently and the shop had a fresh, citrus smell to it. Harry did not see any sign of Ollivander, though, nor his apprentice.

“Can I get a wand too?” Lily asked as she tugged on Harry’s hand.

“Two more years,” Harry said, “then it will be your turn.”

Ginny pulled James back by the collar of his shirt before he could reach for a load-bearing box and tug it from its shelf and, after a final glance around the shop for either of its proprietors revealed no one, she pressed down on the bell on the shop counter.

“Just a moment!” a woman’s voice called from the shop room.

Harry was happy to wait; it was his children who struggled with patience.

James, having been denied exploration of the precariously placed boxes, went back to exploring his potions supplies. Lily, similarly denied her own wand, peered into James’ bag. She asked James about all the ingredients inside and Harry relaxed a bit as James began to explain what he knew about each ingredient and to make up information when he didn’t. James was at his best when he went into what Ginny affectionately called, “big brother mode.” Harry had never had siblings, until Violet who felt more like a niece than a sister, but he knew what Ginny meant. When James felt responsible for something or someone else, he performed spectacularly. It was when he was left to himself that he got a bit too reckless.

“No need to be nervous,” Ginny said softly, and combed her younger son’s hair back. “You’ll find a wand that suits you just fine.”

“I’m not nervous,” he said, with the same bravado he’d tried to conjure outside the shop.

Neither of his parents were fooled.

There was a small pop from the back of the shop, a strangled yelp and a hissed curse.

Harry reached for his wand, duelling instincts intact not just from a childhood consumed by war but from a career as one of the most distinguished Aurors of his generation.

“It’s alright,” a warbly gentleman’s voice called. “Just a bit of an accident with some unicorn hair.”

But Harry did not tuck his wand away, not until Garick Gervaise Ollivander emerged from the back of the shop and with him, his apprentice-turned-assistant, Anne Elizabeth Thelborne.

Anne and Ollivander’s eyes alike lit up when they saw Harry. Anne hurried forward and kissed his cheek.

“Harry! I was wondering when we would see you! Your boy —” and she turned to the young, eleven-year-old boy who was carefully extricating himself from his mother’s hand “— ah, yes, you turned eleven this year, didn’t you?”

Ollivander smiled gently. “Then shall we get this young man fitted for a wand?”

James and Lily watched excitedly as Anne flicked her wand and Summoned a measuring tape. She called out numbers to Ollivander, like the length of the wand arm, the wrist, the distance between his eyes and the length of his nose, and all sorts of absurd details while Ollivander browsed the shelves and pulled down a few boxes.

They tried several wands, but none seemed to work for the young wizard. The first sparked unpleasantly; the second hissed and created a foul odour; the third drenched Lily and put her in tears.

“He did it on purpose,” Lily cried as she clutched Harry’s leg, which made it rather difficult to dry her off.

“He did not,” Harry assured her. “I had the same thing happen to me when I got my wand.”

But Lily’s enthusiasm for the wand fitting was properly squelched, and even James’ excitement waned as the fitting dragged on.

Ginny watched with pursed lips and whispered to Harry, “I don’t remember mine or my brothers’ taking so long.”

Harry shrugged. “Mine did. Both times.”

But as the fitting continued, only Anne and Ollivander’s excitement flourished. Harry remembered this from his first fitting: Ollivander loved a tricky customer, and while he did not know Anne especially well, he knew that she enjoyed a challenge.

“Any ideas Ms Thelborne?” Ollivander asked as he set aside a seventeenth failed wand.

Anne pursed her lips. “May I see your wand hand, Mr Potter?”

Her young customer’s cheeks burned with the honorific, but he held his hand out to her.

She trailed her fingers along the creases in his hand slowly, a practice Harry remembered from Trelawney’s Divination classes. He wasn’t especially fond of the subject, but as long as Anne wasn’t about to issue any prophecies about Dark wizards and destinies, Harry thought it would be alright.

Anne closed his hand and looked back to Ollivander. “What about that cherry one I just finished?”

Ollivander tipped his head. “Curious choice. Cherry it is.”

Anne waved her wand and Summoned a box from the back room. She was surprisingly delicate as she opened the box and handed the wand off.

“Cherry,” she said, “with a dragon heartstring core. Ten and three-quarters, and rather pliant.”

He waved the wand and the lights in the shop dimmed. Instead, silver light, winking and glittering like starlight, filled the room. Harry stared, shocked and fascinated by such a strong display. Even James, who had found picking at a tear in his jeans more interesting than his brother’s wand fitting paused to stare with his mouth open. His wand fitting certainly hadn’t had such a grand conclusion.

“Well done,” Ollivander smiled as the starlight winked out and the lamps returned to their full warm glow. “A powerful wand which will require a strong will to keep it in line. Are you up to the task, Mr Potter?”

“Er — yes.”

Ginny combed his hair back again as Anne took the wand from him to wrap it appropriately. Harry tried to pay for the wand, but as it had been when Harry had purchased his wand, as it had been when they had purchased James’ wand, his offer was rebuffed.

“The debt I owe you and your father is far too great, my boy,” Ollivander insisted.

“I really can’t —” but Ollivander had already turned away.

Reluctantly, Harry returned his Galleons to his pocket. He would have to remember to send Ollivander something very nice for Christmas.

Once they were outside, James asked, “Are we going home now?”

“Just to drop off our things,” Ginny said. “We have dinner with your grandparents tonight.”

James groaned. “But I wanted to try the Sticky Trainers!”

Ginny lifted the bag of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes out of James’ reach — or as out of his reach as she could; he was getting far too tall for his own good. “Not tonight. And not even if we were just going home. It’s your dad’s birthday, not yours.”

Harry privately thought that if they weren’t having a family dinner, he would certainly enjoy trying out the Sticky Trainers with James as a way of celebrating his birthday, but he was not going to undermine Ginny. So instead he said, “Maybe Sirius will bring something experimental to dinner.”

This mollified James well enough.

When they had taken this walk from Ollivander’s back to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home two years ago, after James’ wand fitting, there had been a long lecture from Harry and Ginny about the rules of owning a wand. A wand was not a toy, was not to be pointed at younger siblings, was not to be used except under the supervision of an adult, particularly professors, and certainly not outside of school, and certainly certainly not in a place a Muggle might see.

Harry did not think he needed to give the speech again. Lily might need reminders when it was her turn, but their middle child had not even asked to hold his wand again. Instead, he was rather quiet on their walk back to the Leaky Cauldron and his normally pensive face looked troubled.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked, slowing his pace to match his son’s.

“Yes.”

But Harry didn’t believe him. “Are you worried about your wand?”

His eyes drifted to the slender box tucked under Harry’s arm, pressed up against the stack of books. “Rosie said her wand made a book zip across the room.”

“Do you remember James’ wand fitting?”

“It made a light, didn’t it?”

“It was a pleasant, golden glow. Do you think yours was any less?”

“No, no, it was… I don’t know, wasn’t it a lot?”

“Maybe you’re meant for a lot,” but Harry realised belatedly that these were not the words of comfort that his son needed, and he should have expected it. If anyone knew the burden of a destiny, it was him.

“I only mean,” Harry tried to amend, “that you will be able to do anything you put your mind to. You’re smart and a hard worker. Your wand chose you because it knows you’ll do great work with it. You’ll be whatever you want to be.”

But this did not seem to make things any better, and before Harry could find the right words to alleviate his son’s anxiety, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny went through the Floo first, the children were to follow one at a time, and Harry would go last. That way, if anyone misspoke and got lost, they would know right away. It had, so far, only happened twice. Once to James, who had been too excited and ended up not at the Hogsmeade Cottage, but at the Hog’s Head instead. Lily had mumbled her way through her first Floo trip and, instead of ending up at her grandparents’ home, had managed to stumble her way into Picksie’s nearby cottage.

Once home, with no Floo mishaps this time, Ginny and Harry sorted through the boys’ school things and made each promise that all school things — wands included — were to stay in their trunks until school. Nothing would get lost or left behind or misused. Both boys readily agreed, but they were hardly halfway upstairs before James was whispering, “Hey, can I see your wand?”

“Don’t you dare touch his wand,” Ginny called after him. “All wands stay home tonight.”

“Why?” James whined.

“If you touch your brother’s wand, I will keep your broom home until Christmas.”

“But the match against Slytherin is always before Christmas! I can’t miss it!”

“Then leave your brother’s wand alone and it won’t be a problem.”

Harry remembered Malfoy’s nerves about sending Scorpius to Hogwarts. Harry had largely been excited for his boys, but for the first time he worried about letting the two of them go together without his and Ginny’s supervision.

Well, at least there would be plenty of people at Hogwarts to look out for them.

Once school supplies had been put away and the boys had been checked for their wands, Ginny went through the Floo to Styncon Garden. James went right behind her and Lily dithered for a moment before stepping into the fireplace.

When Harry realised that his son was not following readily, he resisted the urge to ask what James had done or said now.

“Still nervous about school?” he asked instead.

“What if I am in Slytherin?”

“Then your mother and I will wear red and green to Quidditch matches.”

“But…”

“You know you’re named for a member of Slytherin. He’d be quite pleased to hear you’d made it into his house.”

Peter Regulus Potter chewed nervously on his lower lip. He’d been told the story of his name — Peter for the Gryffindor who had saved Harry from Voldemort as an infant and Regulus for the Slytherin who had helped Harry defeat Voldemort as an adult. He hadn’t been told how Sirius had bitched about the choice for a week, and he hadn’t been told how Regulus had been moved to tears and protested the name choice. He hadn’t been told about the several long nights Harry and Ginny had spent talking over his name during her pregnancy.

“All my brothers already have boys,” Ginny had said, “so their names are taken.”

“My dad and Remus have already had their names used, and Sirius has thrown quite the fit about his name,” Harry had sighed.

“We might just have to consult a book,” Ginny had frowned, “or an oracle.”

Harry had heard of wizarding parents seeking out an oracle for help naming children — Fleur and Bill had done it for each of their three children — but he was staunchly against the idea. Perhaps he would like Firenze’s advice, but he had a feeling Firenze would give him a lecture about the absurdity and selfishness of consulting the stars for such a personal problem.

He had stroked Ginny’s hair absentmindedly as they had sat together, enjoying a brief moment of quiet while James was asleep. He’d returned to the possibility of naming their son after Sirius, even if Sirius hated the notion.

“You know,” he had said, mostly as a joke, “The only thing Sirius might hate more than us using his name would be using Regulus’ name.”

Ginny had laughed. “Certainly not, though. Well, maybe as a middle name…”

And though it had been a joke, Harry and Ginny both found that they quite liked the idea of using Regulus’ name. He was important to both of them, in different ways, and it would be a kind way to recognise his influence on their paths. Their conversation about Regulus had led Harry easily to Peter, which he and Ginny agreed was a much more tasteful first name.

“But what if I don’t want to be in Slytherin?” Peter asked.

Harry remembered Fred and George’s absurd claims that there would be a duel with a dragon and all sorts of challenges to determine a new Hogwarts student’s house. He did not want to spoil the mystery of the Sorting Ceremony for Peter, but he knew how much his son was prone to worry, and did not need him anxious for the next month as James teased him.

“You know, I almost got into Slytherin,” Harry said.

Peter’s green eyes widened. “You?”

“I was told I’d do well in Slytherin and in Gryffindor. But I asked to be in Gryffindor.”

“I can just ask?”

“Asking matters. I only asked, though, because I wanted to stay with Ron, and I was pretty confident he would end up in Gryffindor.” He supposed he had also done it to avoid Malfoy, but he didn’t need to tell Peter that.

“You can choose to stay with your friends?”

“If you want. And you may not want to share a common room with James for the next five years…”

This, finally, got a laugh out of Peter. Harry did not know why it was hard to make Peter laugh, but it did make each of his laughs matter that much more.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Harry pulled him into a hug. “Now we’d better go before your mum owls Uncle Percy at the Ministry to find out where you got lost in the Floo Network.”

Peter stepped into the fireplace, and as soon as he had disappeared in the green flames, Harry followed.

When he emerged from the fireplace in his parents’ living room, he was greeted with a loud shout accompanied by the blare of noise makers so startling that he nearly grabbed for his wand before he realised that the shout was, “Happy birthday!” and the crowd of people around him were his friends.

The first person to grab his arm was Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley. Her thick curls were tied back and she still wore her Ministry robes, like she had come straight from work. “We’re so glad to see you!” she said as she pulled him close and squeezed him tight.

“What are you all doing here?” he laughed.

“It was a surprise.” Neville Fransiscus Longbottom was nearly as tall as Harry, and about three times as thick. Harry practically fell into him as Neville followed Hermione’s lead and pulled Harry into a hug. “Were you surprised?”

“Very.” Harry’s heart was still racing and he held onto the mantlepiece to keep from falling over. “I thought you and Hannah were in Tibet for the summer?”

Neville scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, mussing his long blond hair. “Er — we came back just for this.”

Ronald Billius Weasley clapped Harry on the shoulder. The white scars along the back of his hand crisscrossed and spiralled up his arm, disappearing into the magenta sleeves of his Weasley Wizard Wheezes robes. “You didn’t think we’d let you get away with a quiet birthday, did you?”

Harry should have expected nothing less of his friends. He smiled and shook his head. “I guess not. Though I wish I’d known about it so I could miss it.”

Ron checked his shoulder affectionately and Hermione kissed his cheek.

“We are allowed to make you feel special every once in awhile,” she said.

“Oh, sure, I haven’t had enough of that in my life.”

“You don’t really mind, do you, Harry?” and Harry turned to see Cedric Amos Diggory, whose copper hair was just beginning to grey at his temples.

Harry could not help but laugh as they embraced. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

He was grateful, truly. It was so hard to see his friends these days. Ever since Ron had stepped down from his position as an Auror to work part time with Fred and George, Harry saw him hardly at all. He ran into Hermione and Cedric at the Ministry on occasion, but that was for work and hardly time for a pleasant chat. Neville and Hannah worked at Hogwarts, so Harry only had a chance to see them during the summer or on holidays.

Similarly, it was hard to make time to see his family.

He extricated himself from his friends to find his parents. He saw as much of them as he could, particularly during the summer, since James and Lily had been teaching at Hogwarts ever since Violet had turned eleven.

Slughorn had finally retired for a second time, and Lily had taken over Potions. In the wake of her promotion to Headmaster, McGonagall had had about as much trouble filling the position of Transfiguration professor as Dumbledore had once had filling the Defense Against Dark Arts position, until James had taken over. Violet, Teddy, and Del had all been less than thrilled to discover just how much of their family had suddenly become professors.

But now that it was Peter’s turn, Harry was glad to know just how many people at Hogwarts would be there to look out for him.

He found his parents not far behind his friends, eager to greet him.

The war had not aged them well, but peace had done them good. Their wrinkles were more from laughter than worry, and they both Charmed their hair to be just as rich and colourful as it had been in their youth.

Lily Juniper Potter wore a light, summer dress appropriate for the warm weather, save for a tight sleeve that covered the scars on her right arm. As she pulled Harry into a hug, Harry caught the scent of flour and smoke. He wondered if he ought to worry about the state of his birthday cake.

James Fleamont Potter’s glass eye was unmoving, but his smile was always more inviting than his injury was off-putting. While waiting for his turn to hug Harry, he asked, “How was the wand fitting?”

“It went well,” Harry said. “Though I wish it had taken longer. Maybe then everyone here would have given up on waiting and gone home.”

Lily kissed his cheek. “You have a lot of people who love you, Harry. You’ll have to indulge us all once in a while.”

There was a sharp tug on Harry’s hand and he was forced to look down at his youngest child.

While no nicknames had ever stuck for James — at best, he and his grandfather could be differentiated between with “Harry’s boy” and “Prongs” — Lily had taken well to “Little Lily” in order to distinguish her from her grandmother. Maybe someday Little Lily would outgrow the nickname, but for now, it worked.

“Were you surprised, Dad?” Little Lily asked. “Mum said we couldn’t tell you because you had to be surprised.”

“I was very surprised,” Harry smiled. He let her lead him away from his parents towards the dining room, and, as soon as he thought his own parents were out of earshot, asked, “Next time your mum says to surprise me, how about you tell me first?”

“But how can you be surprised if you know?”

“I can pretend to be surprised, just like you pretended not to know about the surprise.”

Little Lily considered this proposition with a very thoughtful expression. “I promise to tell you the next time Mum does a surprise only if you promise to get me a Grindylow for my birthday.”

Harry considered the dangers and expenses of owning a Grindylow. He searched desperately for a counter offer. “Wouldn’t you like something a bit easier to cuddle, like a Crup?”

“But a Crup doesn’t have sharp teeth!”

Harry was going to have to be careful or his daughter was going to come home from her first year at Hogwarts with a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

“We’ll see what we can do,” he said.

He glanced around for Ginny, ready to get in one last complaint about being surprised, but she was standing between James and Peter, and Harry was not eager to join her in the middle of whatever it was. He’d been mediating between the boys all afternoon; it was Mum’s turn.

Then two different loud boys, even littler than Little Lily, burst into the dining room, and each of them grabbed one of Lily’s hands.

“We saw a Flitterby in the garden!” Lorcan Xenophilius Scamander half-shouted, and tugged Lily away from Harry.

“Let’s catch it! Let’s catch it!” his twin brother Lysander Rolf Scamander shouted, too, anxiously tugging Lily to the garden.

Lily, ever ready to chase something outdoors, shrieked and followed them. The three of them nearly knocked Luna Pandora and Rolf Artemus Scamander over on their way out to the garden.

Once she had her balance back, Luna pulled Harry into a hug, complete with a kiss on each cheek. “It’s so good to see you. We’ve missed you!”

Harry pulled himself out of Luna’s hug and greeted her husband with a much more cordial handshake.

“It’s good to see you, too.” He so rarely got to see the Scamanders, since Rolf travelled a lot for his research, and Luna and their children often went with him.

“We’re sorry we can’t stay long,” Luna said, “But we wanted to make sure we said hello.”

“Everything alright?”

“It’s a holiday for us,” Rolf said. He checked the time on his pocketwatch. “We’re meeting my parents in a bit for service.” A loud shriek from the garden made all of them stiffen just a bit. “I’ll check on them,” Rolf murmured, and excused himself.

“Er—which holiday is it?” Harry asked Luna. He wasn’t entirely familiar with the Jewish calendar.

“It’s the sad one,” Luna said, which didn’t really help Harry, but he supposed it was the most that he could expect from Luna.

“Right, well, I suppose ‘Have fun’ isn’t the right thing to say then.”

“Time with family should always be fun, even on sad days,” she said, and kissed his cheek once more. “I’d better not keep the guest of honour all to myself. But I promise we’ll have you over for dinner before we go back to Panama.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry said, and meant it. He may not care for large parties nor for large groups of people, but he loved getting to spend time with his friends. As a boy, he had envied Ron’s loud, full house, but now he found much more appreciation for the quiet spaces and the more intimate exchanges with friends. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how he had grown up or if having kids had simply worn away his idealism of the Weasley family’s loud, crowded home.

He decided he ought to take Luna’s advice, though, and enjoy his time with his family. Large parties may not be his favourite thing, but he shouldn’t complain that so many people wanted to celebrate him. He was lucky to be so loved.

Someone shouted something about cake, and Harry, despite his intention to try to engage with the party better, took the opportunity to slip away from the suddenly crowded kitchen. Unfortunately, he was intercepted by Sirius Orion Black, who pulled him into a tight hug and wished him a happy birthday.

“You could have warned me,” Harry complained. “When we were leaving Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes today, and you said ‘See you tonight,’ you could have given me, I don’t know, any sort of clue it would be bigger than just a family dinner.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Sirius smiled. “Besides, if I’d mentioned we’d invited Ron. Hermione, and Neville, would you have stayed home?”

Harry raised an eyebrow and paused to quickly count guests. “And Luna, and Neville’s parents, and did I see the Bones and Macmillans?”

“And Hagrid should be here somewhere.”

“Merlin, Sirius, thirty-seven’s not even an interesting birthday.”

“Just imagine what your parents will do for forty.”

Harry struggled to give Sirius a stern glare but it was hard when he didn’t really mean any of his indignation.

Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks-Lupin appeared suddenly and slid her arm around his shoulder. “Honestly, Harry, if you want to complain about how many people are here, you and your friends should stop having kids. I can hardly keep track of all the little ones these days.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone’s done having kids.”

“Neville and Hannah haven’t even started,” Sirius pointed out.

“Neville and Hannah have a few hundred kids they look out for,” said Harry, who knew that Neville and Hannah both put their work at Hogwarts above all else. They were the most compassionate people he had ever met, and he was glad to know they’d be at Hogwarts watching out for his kids as if they were their own.

“Speaking of kids, where are yours?” Harry asked. He hadn’t seen any of the Black-Lupin-Tonks household since he’d arrived.

“They’re around,” Dora said. “Del might be running late after her shift at St Mungo’s.”

Sirius checked his wristwatch. “She’s still at work, but I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she can be.”

When his fortieth birthday had arrived, Sirius had not been particularly pleased to receive a wristwatch modelled after Mrs Weasley’s grandfather clock, which told not the time but rather where everyone in the family was. He’d said he didn’t want it nor need it, that he certainly didn’t worry about them all that much.

But he had worn the watch every day since.

Harry could see that the hand for Del was pointed at “Work” and the other hands were all pointed at “The Potters,’” which was only a few ticks away from “Home.”

And then Harry saw nothing at all as someone’s hand fell over his eyes and a very familiar voice said, “Guess who?”

Harry replied with an appropriate elbow to the stomach and turned in an attempt to catch his sister in the space just beneath her ribcage, where she was the most ticklish.

Violet Euphemia Potter danced out of his reach, holding aloft two plates of cake with her wand. She grinned and offered one as a peace offering.

“Happy birthday,” she said as he took the cake.

Harry balanced the plate carefully in his right hand. His grip still wasn’t phenomenal, but it was enough for a plate of cake. “Next time you do something like that I’ll end up hexing you,” he said, but he always said that.

Violet’s dark red hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her dark complexion was flecked with a few darker freckles. Her smile was as ready and easy as her father’s and it held steady even as she chewed and swallowed a bite of birthday cake.

“Good luck getting a hex off on me,” she said. “I achieved five N.E.W.T.S. you know.”

“Five is impressive.”

“It’s five more than you got.”

“That doesn’t mean you can out-duel me yet.”

“Every birthday is another year you’re older and slower.” She swiped a bit of frosting from her cake and smeared it across Harry’s cheek. Then she ducked out of his reach and disappeared into the kitchen before he could quite catch her.

He set his cake on the table and dashed after her, but he had hardly made it into the garden when he ran into a solid wall of a person.

“‘Arry!” a deep voice rumbled. “There yeh are. Good ter see yeh.”

Harry, though he was disappointed to lose this contest with his younger sister, smiled up at Rubeus Hagrid. “Glad you made it.” He wondered if Violet had intentionally led him into one of the only people Harry could not easily escape a conversation with.

“Yeh alrigh’? Yeh looked like you were about to run off.”

“No, not at all. How’s Hogwarts?”

There was not much that went on at Hogwarts that Harry did not know about. Between his parents, Remus, Neville, McGonagall, and Hagrid, Harry was able to get a fairly complete view of what went on at the school. This was something James had learned the hard way during his first year, when he realised it would be impossible to lie to his parents about just how much trouble he got into.

“Yer boy Pete’s starting this year, righ’?” Hagrid asked, and Harry nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on ‘im. Don’t yeh worry abou’ it.”

“I know he’ll be in good hands,” Harry said. He was just about to try to excuse himself to find Violet — he owed her a Stinging Jinx, at the least — when he heard a loud shriek from the west side of the garden.

Harry knew Little Lily’s shriek well and bolted in a dead sprint. He was winded by the time he reached her, and his head spun with adrenaline and fear. He prepared himself for any number of blood, stings, or broken bones.

But it had not been a shriek of terror; it had been a shriek of joy. It was always hard to tell the difference with Lily, but now he could see that she was clapping her hands and laughing giddily as she, the Scamander twins, and Hugo Ronald Granger-Weasley pinched and prodded the Snap Dragons.

The small, bell-shaped flowers looked a lot like their Muggle counterpart: stalks of brilliant reds, yellows, and orange flowers that flared at the end and, when pinched, looked a bit like a dragon opening its mouth. These flowers, however, shot actual spurts of orange and blue flames when pinched.

The children weren’t at risk for much more than a small burn on their fingertips, nothing a salve and a spell couldn’t set right, but Harry was glad to see Rolf was still with them, making sure that no one was leaning in too close and that no one was aiming the small jets of flame at each other.

Lily’s eyes lit up when she saw Harry, and her smile nearly doubled in size. “Dad, look! These ones have blue fire!”

“Vi’s experiments have been paying off,” Harry agreed. He imagined one of Violet’s five N.E.W.T.s was in Herbology. She spent most of her summers in the garden, just as he had growing up, though she’d taken to it all a bit more quickly than he had.

It was hard not to wonder if, had things been different for Harry, he might have preferred Herbology to Defence. As Violet considered her path after Hogwarts, Harry couldn’t help but imagine a different set of choices for himself, a different world that might have ended with him here, caring for the estate and its gardens instead of at the Ministry hunting Dark wizards.

Little Lily shrieked again as Hugo pinched one of the flowers and a small bit of flame curled from the flower and vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Harry scooped Lily up into his arms. “We’ve talked about the difference between excitement screams and blood-curdling danger screams, right?”

“But that was an excited scream, Dad. Do you want to hear my danger scream?”

“Maybe not so close to my ear. Did everyone get cake?”

Lily’s shriek of excitement was dulled only by Hugo and the twins, who also screamed as they bolted for the house. Lily squirmed to be put down to follow them, but Harry held on.

She whined as Harry carried her into the house, stopping only when he finally set her down in the kitchen.

Alice Liesel Longbottom and Frank Charlus Justice Longbottom stood near the cake and a set of dark green bottles. Apparently someone had brought champagne, and the Longbottoms were making sure it didn’t wander its way into smaller hands.

Picksie stood nearby, chatting with the Longbottoms as they passed out cake and champagne. She smiled and waved at Harry, then stepped aside so that the children could get cake.

“How is Harry?” she asked. “Long time, no see,” and she and Harry both grinned because it was horribly untrue.

Harry saw Picksie just about every day in the Ministry. As a Cursebreaker, she worked closely with the Auror office, and as one of the most renowned Cursebreakers, she worked often with the most renowned Aurors. Of course, that didn’t just mean Harry. She’d gotten rather close with the Longbottoms in the last few years.

Alice handed cake to Lily, the twins, and Hugo, who begged for an extra slice with promises to deliver it to his sister in the library, and Frank handed a glass of champagne to Harry and refilled Picksie’s glass. Rolf politely declined the champagne, but did accept a slice of cake.

“Haven’t seen you in an age,” Alice said to Harry, with the same teasing smile Picksie had greeted him with, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“It could be, if you two would retire,” he said.

Frank wrinkled his nose. “Retiring’s for the young. What would we do if we retired, anyway?”

“What would you do if we retired?” Alice laughed. “Who else would test out the Weasley Wizard Wheezes prank supplies in the office to keep morale up?”

Harry tilted his head with a smile. “Is that what you do it for? I thought it was just to run the rookies out.”

He left Picksie, Frank, and Alice to compare notes about their latest case — he had a strict no-work-on-birthdays policy — and thought, despite how many people he had already run into, there were still quite a few guests he hadn’t greeted yet.

He passed the Bones and the Macmillans, who were gathered around the dining room table. Susan Amelia Bones and Ernest Domitius Macmillan chatted with Harry briefly, but did not keep him long. When Hannah Kelcie Longbottom joined them, Harry managed to excuse himself.

Having this many people to greet and make small talk with was too much like being at work or at a formal Ministry event and not enough like a birthday celebration. Of course these were friends, and he tried to remind himself of what Luna had said about time with family, but he couldn’t help but feel the strong sense of obligation.

Fortunately, he found Remus and Beatrice in the entrance hall, and Harry took a seat on the staircase beside Bea, grateful to be with people who knew him well enough that he felt no need to be more than he was.

Remus John Lupin smiled at Harry and wished him a happy birthday. He did not look as tired as Harry might expect for the week leading up to the full moon, but it was summer, and the nice thing about summer was that nights were short and Remus had plenty of time to rest.

Beatrice Anna Harper, similarly, looked a bit paler than usual, but all-in-all seemed well. Her dark hair was tied in a loose braid over one shoulder and she smiled thinly as Harry sat down. She had large dark eyes and a set of scars across her face not unlike Remus’. She fidgeted with one of her silver earrings and listened as Remus asked about Peter’s wand fitting.

“Oh,” Harry said, “that reminds me, I ran into Malfoy today. His boy is starting at Hogwarts this year, too.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’ll be interesting. We’ll keep him and Peter out of any duels as best as we can.”

Harry’s smile was wry as he recalled just how many duels he and Draco Malfoy had gotten into. “Peter’s not the one I’d worry about getting into duels. But James knows his first detention means his broom comes home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time he starts a duel in my classroom.”

“I just think,” James interrupted, appearing rather suddenly at Remus’ elbow, “that if it’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class we should get to practise Defence spells.”

“Jinxing your roommate with a spell I just covered for handling a Red Cap is not appropriate practise, James, and you know that.”

James wrinkled his nose, unimpressed with Remus’ argument, but then he saw Bea and his eyes lit up again. “Oh, Bea, did you bring your broom? Maybe we could get a match on before dinner.”

Bea gave James an unenthusiastic smile, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t have mine, but if Vi will loan me one, sure.”

“Did Teddy bring his broom?” James asked, glancing between Bea and Remus.

“I’m not sure that Teddy did,” Remus said. “But I think you’d better clear it with your grandad first before you tear up the garden.”

James frowned. “Quidditch is in the air. We won’t tear up the garden.”

“You have a habit of crashing,” Harry reminded him. “You’re allowed to play only if your Mum plays.”

“But that’s cheating,” James protested. “Mum’s a pro.”

“Grandad nearly was too,” Harry said. “See how many brooms you can scrounge up, get your mum and grandad’s permission, then you can play.”

James, quickly as he had come, disappeared to find his mother and grandfather.

“Do you miss Quidditch yet?” Harry asked Bea.

“Getting up for practice at five in the morning? Running hours of drills in the cold?” Bea laughed. “No, I don’t miss Quidditch yet. But at least I didn’t have Vi as my captain.”

Harry laughed. Violet was competitive, more competitive than he remembered Oliver Wood being, at least on the pitch. Unlike Oliver Wood, Vi was good at leaving her competitive nature where it belonged. She and Bea, despite being in Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively, were the best of friends in the school halls. But on the pitch, Violet was focused on nothing but victory.

“Is she planning on nationals?” Remus asked. “That’s coming up, isn’t it?”

“As far as I know, she’s planning on it,” Harry said. “Though I suppose with the five N.E.W.T.s she’s bragging about, she could do anything.”

“Did she mention the N.E.W.T. that she didn’t get?” Bea laughed. “She only achieved ‘Poor’ in Transfiguration.”

Harry grimaced. “Bet she and Dad both loved that. But she did alright in Potions, didn’t she?” he asked. He thought he remembered her talking about opening up a Potions shop at some point, but she’d also talked about Quidditch and managing the house and being a competitive duelist just as much.

Bea nodded. “But she still doesn’t want to quit Transfiguration. James and Sirius gave her stacks of summer reading to get through if she wants to continue with her Animagus studies.”

“She’ll get it eventually,” Remus murmured. “She’s stubborn enough to keep at it.”

Harry wanted to ask Bea what her plans were, now that she was finished with Hogwarts, but he was distracted by a loud, plaintive, “Dad!”

There were enough “Dads” nearby that Harry couldn’t be certain that he was the dad in question, but he was fairly positive that it was one of his boy’s plaintive wails. It had the distinct scent of tattling, something James and Peter alike excelled at.

Harry excused himself and followed the cry into the living room, worried one of his sons had gotten into something they shouldn’t have. Or perhaps the boys were arguing about something and it was going to turn ugly.

He found Peter standing by the fireplace with Rose Mary Granger-Weasley, the two of them looking rather concerned.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“James Flooed home!” Peter complained.

“Why?”

“To get brooms,” Rose said. “He said we didn’t have enough for a proper Quidditch match.”

Harry resisted the urge to simply collapse into the sofa in exhaustion. James was thirteen now, and perfectly capable of using the Floo by himself, but to do it without asking first was entirely unacceptable, and James absolutely should know better. But Harry also knew from personal experience that at thirteen “should know better” did not always trump “brilliant, impulsive idea.”

The fireplace flared green and James stumbled out, a bundle of brooms bunched in his arms.

“Oh,” he said when he saw Harry. “Er — hi, Dad. You said to make sure we have enough brooms for Quidditch.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. How quickly “should know better” set in, once faced with a parent.

“I think I said to get Mum and Grandad’s permission first.”

“Actually, you said brooms first and then you said get Mum and Grandad’s permission.”

Not a day went by that Harry did not think James really ought to be have been named after Sirius. “You can’t Floo home without asking,” Harry said. “You know this.”

“But you would’ve said yes.”

“I would’ve gone instead.”

“But it all turned out alright. Nothing happened.”

Harry almost heard himself at thirteen echoed in James’ voice. Perhaps naming James after himself had not been such a miss after all. Perhaps he and Ginny had done this to themselves.

“But something could have happened,” Harry said, and couldn’t help but hear his own parents in his voice. “You need to ask first.”

“Okay. I’ll ask next time,” James said, and handed a broom to Peter and a broom to Rose.

Harry, as he often did with James, had the unfortunate feeling that nothing he had said would stick. That was the one stark difference between him and James. Harry would have argued until he felt heard. James was happy to agree then promptly forget what he had agreed to. Harry could only guess that James got that from Ginny, who had spent her childhood sneaking around her mother’s strict rules and feigning innocence.

“Leave the brooms here, James, until you get permission.”

James huffed irritably, but set the brooms down by the fireplace and left to find his mum and granddad.

Peter sullenly set down the broom James had given him and collapsed into the sofa with his arms folded across his chest.

Harry pursed his lips. Though there were still guests to greet, he couldn’t let this small fit go unaddressed.

“Rose, did you get cake?” he asked. He noticed a distinct lack of the plate Hugo had adamantly promised to bring to her.

“Not yet,” she said. “Pete, d’you want some?”

“No, thank you,” Peter said. At least Peter, even when upset, never forgot his manners.

As Rose left, Harry sat on the sofa beside Peter. “What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said.

Harry, as he had with Malfoy that morning, waited for the truth.

And, after a moment, Peter said, “You didn’t even yell at James.”

“Did you want me to?”

“He broke the rules! And you aren’t even mad.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and struggled to find a way to explain that no, he wasn’t mad. He was tired, more than anything else. But he did not think that was what Peter wanted nor needed to hear.

“Do you know why your mum and I make rules?” Harry asked.

Peter shrugged. “Because you’re our parents?”

“Because we want you to be safe. When your mum and I get mad, it’s only because we get scared of the danger you could get into. Maybe you don’t always see the danger, but that’s the burden of being a parent. You’ve known more danger than your kids.”

“But you didn’t even ground James.”

“Would that have helped James learn better?”

“Maybe,” Peter mumbled, and Harry could see plainly which of his sons had inherited his own petulant stubbornness.

“Unfortunately for James, he’s not going to learn unless he actually gets himself into danger. But you’re a bit smarter than your brother. You’re willing to learn from someone else’s experience.”

Though Peter did not uncross his arms, and the furrow in his brow did not soften, he raised no more argument. Harry couldn’t be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and he worried that perhaps he had made the wrong choice with this conversation.

“Do you want me to tell James no Quidditch today?”

Peter looked for a moment like he might say yes, like he might let this sibling rivalry win the day. But he slumped his shoulders and said, “No, Rosie really wanted to play when James said something about it.”

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheek to restrain a smile. So this fit was not as much about being angry James wasn’t in trouble as it was jealousy over his cousin. “You know you can also play Quidditch.”

“I don’t like Quidditch,” Peter complained.

“That’s alright. There’s plenty of other things to like. Speaking of, are you sure you don’t want cake?”

Peter hesitated a moment, then unwound himself from his tightly coiled temper and followed Harry back into the kitchen.

Harry paused briefly in the entrance to say goodbye to the Scamanders, who had to make their early exit to meet their own family, and he lost sight of Peter in the wake of the conversation. He didn’t worry about Peter disappearing into trouble the way that James did, but he did worry about Peter disappearing into his own head. It was all Harry could do to hope that Peter made good friends at Hogwarts, friends who could keep him from sulking too much, as Ron, Hermione, and Neville had always done for him.

He did not see Peter in the kitchen, but Teddy was there, leaning against the cabinets beside the fireplace.

Edward Remus Lupin was sporting blue hair today, as he often did, and Harry noticed his face was a bit more angular than it naturally was. While Dora used her abilities to mask her Black lineage and look more like her father, Teddy tended to mimic the infamous Black cheekbones that had skipped him. His eyes, however, were the same hazel as his father’s, something that had been true for so long Harry could not remember if it was natural or a choice.

Teddy had a glass of champagne in each hand, but when Harry glanced around, he did not see any conversation partners for Teddy, and he suddenly understood why Teddy was leaning in this space, specifically.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Harry asked with a knowing grin.

Teddy, to his credit, did not blush, but perhaps he would have if he did not have such intimate control over every part of his face.

“She said she’d come for tea,” Teddy mumbled. “Uncle James said it was okay.”

“The more the merrier,” said Harry. And though he did not fully believe in that platitude, he did not mind Victoire visiting. It would be nice to have a guest that was not here just to see him.

The fireplace lit up green and Teddy straightened as a young woman with silvery hair stepped into the kitchen — but he realised quite quickly that it was not Victoire, and he slumped back against the cabinet.

“Hi, Del,” he mumbled.

Delphini Saiph Black — who had formally changed her name from Lestrange to Black around her thirteenth year — was a tall, slender young woman with a pale face, somehow plain despite bearing all the same angles as her aunts and cousins. Her smile was thin as she plucked one of the champagne glasses from Teddy’s hand and greeted Harry.

“Work alright?” Harry asked as they embraced.

“Busy day.” But they always were at St Mungo’s. “Just glad I could get away to wish you a happy birthday.”

“There’s cake.”

Del told them about how she meant to come earlier, but someone had gotten a nose-biting teacup attached to a part of them that was decidedly not a nose and she’d needed to take care of it. She did not have the same flare for dramatic story-telling that Sirius had, but her ability to deliver absurd stories with a straight face was its own brand of humour. Even Teddy, though his eyes kept drifting to the fireplace, laughed.

“Didn’t you have Peter’s wand fitting today?” Del asked Harry. “I half expected him or James to show up in my ward today.”

“If James had had his wand on him today, maybe. We’re hoping to keep them out of a proper duel at least until we send them off to Hogwarts to make them their professors’ problem.”

“They’ll be alright,” Teddy said. “Del and I managed to survive Hogwarts without murdering each other.”

Del picked off a loose, neon green thread from the sleeve of her robe. “It was close a few times, though. I very nearly used an Unforgivable on you when you thought the first day of my O.W.L.s was a good time to light up a set of experimental fireworks in the Great Hall.”

Teddy grinned distractedly. “Ah, but you didn’t. I think you knew you needed the distraction. Everyone did. School would get so mad during exams. Someone had to do something.”

Del’s wrinkled nose suggested that she did not agree. “I suppose it helped that we were in different houses. I could always slam the Slytherin common room door in your face when I needed to get away.”

“It was nice to know you wouldn’t be breathing down my neck in the Hufflepuff common room,” Teddy agreed. “Maybe Pete’ll end up in Ravenclaw. He’s got his head in a book plenty enough that it could be a good fit.”

Harry wondered if it was possible for Peter to choose something other than Gryffindor. At the very least, Remus was head of Gryffindor house, so perhaps that might warn the boys off of any trouble could cause in their dormitories or common room.

“I wouldn’t worry, Harry,” said Del. “Bea and I did alright, even with us both in the same house.”

But Bea and Del weren’t proper siblings. Bea, despite spending each full moon with the Black-Tonks-Lupins, hadn’t even lived with them until she was twelve. Del and Teddy weren’t proper siblings either, but they’d grown up together and hardly remembered a life without the other. It made their rivalry a good deal more intense.

Ginny and Ron had managed with all of their siblings, though, so perhaps Harry was over-thinking it.

“Come on,” a low voice carried in from the garden as the kitchen door swung open. “It’s one match. They only need one more player.”

“Surely there’s someone else here better suited to play,” a voice full of familiar long-suffering replied, and Regulus Arcturus Black stepped into the kitchen. Behind him followed Nigel Arthur Brooks.

“I would if I could,” Nigel said with a smile, “and if I wasn’t worried about breaking my back falling off of one of those things.”

“Regulus,” Harry smiled, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I wouldn’t miss one of your birthday celebrations for the world,” Regulus replied, with an unusually genuine smile.

It had not been until Harry’s twentieth birthday that Regulus had been invited to a family celebration, but time, as it often did, had softened the bitterness between his family and Regulus. And Regulus’ desire to know Teddy and Del had helped ease the old wounds between Regulus and Sirius. It had not been an easy recovery, harder even than the divide that had sprung up between James and Lily, but Harry, Ginny, and Regulus alike had been determined to see it through.

“Are you sure we can’t talk you into a game of Quidditch?” Teddy asked as Regulus embraced him. “Dad says you were pretty good at Hogwarts.”

“I really don’t think —”

The kitchen door flew open once more and James Henry announced himself in a single breath with, “Butifyouplaywe’llhaveenoughforapropermatch!”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve got fourteen players and fourteen brooms?” Harry asked James.

James counted the players on his hands: “Mum and Dad, Grandad, Sirius and Aunt Dora, Teddy, Bea, Aunt Vi, Uncle Ron, Rosie and Hugo and Lily! We just need one more and we can have a proper match with all positions filled! Please, Regulus?”

In the end, it was Cedric who agreed to round out the last Quidditch team. The players filed out to the garden to either play or watch the impromptu Quidditch match. Even Teddy reluctantly abandoned his vigil by the fireplace and picked up a broom.

Remus, Hermione, Lily, and Christian Thelborne took seats beneath a tent to avoid the harsh sun as each of their partners joined the cluster of players. Del made sure that Peter had a seat next to her, and Picksie, Hagrid, Regulus, and Nigel, and the Longbottoms, Bones, and Macmillans joined them all to watch not just the match, but the chaos as young James tried to sort his family into teams.

“Dad, you and Diggory used to be Seekers, right? Dad, you should be on my team. And Mum and Aunt Vi can be my other Chasers —”

“Hold on,” Harry interrupted. “You can’t have me and your mum on the same team.”

“And,” Cedric interrupted, “I’m not exactly equipped to be Seeker like I used to. I’d prefer Chaser or Beater.”

Harry glanced down at the thin white scar that still ran the length of Cedric’s forearm. It was not all that different from the line that wrapped around Harry’s right wrist. They had, both of them, had to learn to duel with their left hand.

“Hugo and Lily can be Seekers,” Ginny said.

“Hugo and Lily never play right,” Rose whined. “They just mess around.”

“That’s perfect,” James Henry said. “If no one catches the Snitch, the game goes on forever!”

“This game is not going to go on forever,” said Ron.

It was the elder James who managed to get everyone sorted, to younger James’ chagrin, as evenly as possible.

James Fleamont, James Henry, and Harry would play as Chasers for one team against Ginny, Violet, and Cedric. Teddy and Bea would play as Beaters for Harry’s team while Dora and Sirius would play on Ginny’s side. Ron and Rose would play as Keepers, and Hugo and Lily would be the Seekers.

“It’ll be a fair match, understood?” James Fleamont said as he kicked open the box of Quidditch equipment. He waited until everyone had agreed — and both Violet and James Henry had each agreed twice — before releasing the clasp on the chain, and each of the balls shot into the air.

It was mostly a fair match. Violet used her elbows a little more aggressively than a regulated match called for, but Harry got her back just as good. Ginny flew circles around Harry, but somehow always lost the ball each time James Henry led a pincer move against her. Likewise, Harry had no problem passing the Quaffle just out of Violet’s reach, but when faced with scoring on Rosie, he very dramatically fumbled the Quaffle, much to James Henry’s chagrin.

They played through most of the afternoon, and might have gone longer if Ron had not helped Hugo find the Snitch and end the game in time for tea.

James and Rose were eager to get the game started again, but at their parents’ insistence stopped to eat. The game that resumed after tea was a bit smaller, just made of James, Rose, Teddy, Violet, and Bea passing the Quaffle around while Lily and Hugo chased each other in the air.

“Rose is quite good, isn’t she?” Ginny said, as Harry passed her a sandwich.

“She is,” Ron beamed proudly. “I imagine she’ll play for Gryffindor next year.”

“You’re assuming she’ll get into Gryffindor,” Hermione pointed out.

“I expect she will,” said Ron. “Though Ravenclaw would be alright, too. Perhaps she and Peter will end up in Ravenclaw together.”

Harry glanced at Peter, who was enchanted by a set of flowers Picksie was making bloom and glow in the fading sun. He didn’t appear to be listening, but it was hard to tell with Peter, who loved to eavesdrop and had a penchant for perking up whenever he heard his name.

“We’ll be happy wherever Pete ends up,” Harry said. “All I hope is that he and James don’t kill each other while they’re at Hogwarts.”

“We’ll keep an eye on them, Harry,” said Neville. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Harry did his best to smile at Neville’s encouragement, but he could not help but worry. James’ loud and outgoing nature was a stark contrast from Peter’s, but more than that, it was as if the two of them forced each other into their differences. As if Peter shunned Quidditch because James adored it. As if James refused to be studious in school because that was Peter’s gift. If they did both end up in Gryffindor, Harry wasn’t sure if the tower would survive their five years together.

He supposed Hogwarts had survived Regulus and Sirius, and James and Peter certainly weren’t as bad as the Black family. Harry glanced to where his parents were sitting with Dora, Remus, Sirius, and Regulus. It had never made sense to him as a boy how desperate his parents had been to keep him out of trouble, but now he felt nothing but worry.

When Violet was thirteen, she had approached James about becoming an Animagus. Harry had made the mistake of telling her that James and Sirius had been fifteen when they’d learned to shapeshift into their animal forms and she had demanded to be taught, too. Though Harry had teased Sirius and his father for getting too old and too grown-up, he understood perfectly why they had insisted on making Violet wait and do it all properly.

He could only hope that someday, his boys would look back and remember all the stress they had put him and Ginny through, and that they would have better patience with their own children.

The kitchen windows flashed with a warm green glow and moments later, Victoire appeared in the garden. Teddy, Bea, and Violet all landed to greet her; the girls greeted her with a hug and Teddy greeted her with a kiss.

“Oi!” Dora shouted across the garden. “Teddy, Victoire, stay where we can see you.”

“Oh, like you were any better at that age,” Sirius muttered.

“Why do you think we had Teddy so early?” Dora said, and Remus turned bright red. “But I’m certainly not ready to be a grandmother. Don’t tell me you’re eager to be a grandfather.”

“I dunno. We’re well behind James and Lily. Maybe we should encourage Teddy and Victoire a bit more.”

“Merlin, help me,” Remus groaned. “You two are the worst.”

“You picked us,” Dora kissed his cheek, “so really, what does that make you?”

As the sun set and the fairy lights in the flower beds came to life, guests began to say their goodbyes. It had been nice to see everyone, but Harry could not help but feel grateful as people made their way to the Floo or Apparated home. He was content to spend more time with his closest friends and family, which was all he had really wanted from this day.

Eventually, even James Henry had to admit that it was impossible to play Quidditch in the dark and followed everyone inside.

Nigel and Regulus were the only ones who remained behind to enjoy the stars and the fairy lights. Open skies were rare for them in London, after all.

“I am glad you both came,” Harry said.

“You’ve a lovely family, Harry,” said Nigel. “I’m glad fate brought us together.”

Regulus’ smile was a bit more reticent. “I don’t believe any of us expected to live as long as we did. It is worth celebrating.”

Harry shrugged with a smile. “With Ginny’s birthday right between yours and mine, we might as well have a giant summer birthday party together and get them all sorted out at once.”

“You and I might enjoy the reduced attention, but I’m not entirely sure how Ginny would feel about it.”

Ginny had always enjoyed birthdays in a way Harry didn’t understand. He knew what Regulus meant about celebrating surviving, but Harry did that each day. He didn’t see birthdays as anything particularly special — at least, he didn’t see his own birthday as anything particularly special. He adored celebrating his children’s birthdays, and he supposed he just had to accept that his parents enjoyed celebrating him in the same way.

He slipped past Regulus and Nigel into the kitchen, where he found his parents seated at the kitchen table with Dora, Remus, and Sirius. Since there were only four chairs, Lily had elected to sit on James’ lap as the five of them began another round of cake and drinks.

“You’re not all staying the night are you?” Harry asked.

“Thinking about it,” Dora said around a mouthful of cake. “Wolfsbane schedule starts tomorrow.”

“It is easier when we’re all here for it,” Sirius agreed. “I’m sure Bea wouldn’t object to staying a week.”

“Teddy wouldn’t mind either,” Remus said, “as long as he can still see Victoire.”

“We’re always happy to have you,” Lily said. “Harry, you and the kids are welcome to stay, too.”

“I’ll see what Ginny thinks,” Harry said. He could already hear her laugh in the dining room and wondered if she, too, was beginning a round of drinks.

“Thanks for being a good sport about today,” James said. “I know you’re not fond of surprises, so we’re grateful when you indulge us every once in a while.”

“Just promise me next year will actually be a small family dinner.”

“How can it?” asked Sirius. “Your family’s too big.”

“We’ll let Molly throw the big dinner party next year,” said Lily, “and we’ll just keep it us and the kids. And Ron and Hermione and Neville, if you’d like.”

“Even though that’s still, what, nearly twenty people?” Dora pointed out.

“Only half the size of the Weasleys,” Remus smiled.

“I would love just family next year,” Harry said, “please.”

He couldn’t be sure that they would listen, or even remember by the time this day arrived next year, and he supposed he couldn’t blame them. Regulus had a point: each birthday was one he shouldn’t have had. That carried a good deal of weight for Regulus, who had spent a long time expecting that Harry would have to face death. It had to carry a lot of weight for his parents, too, who had fought so hard to make sure that he survived.

Ron appeared at his side suddenly and dragged Harry into the dining room to do a round of shots of firewhisky.

Harry protested, but when Ginny passed him a small glass with her confident grin, Harry couldn’t say no. After Hermione gave a brief toast to Harry — a toast that he fidgeted through and prayed for his wordiest friend to suddenly find herself speechless — he, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Hannah, Cedric, and Christian all knocked back their glasses at once.

“We’re staying the night, then?” Harry asked as Ginny began to pour another round.

“The kids love kipping on the floor of the living room,” Ginny said. “Why not?”

Hermione declined a second glass. “I think we’ll go home.”

“And deny Hugo and Rose a sleepover with their cousins?” Ron asked as he accepted Ginny’s offer of another drink.

Ginny slid another set of glasses at Hannah, Neville, Cedric, and Christian, despite their protests.

“None of you have kids to worry about,” she said, “so indulge. Enjoy your childless youth.”

“We have been talking about it,” Neville protested.

“You’ve been talking about it for the last three years,” Harry said.

Hannah blushed and did her best to deflect the conversation. “What about you two?” she turned to Cedric and Christian. “You’re never having kids?”

“Christian doesn’t want them,” Cedric said with a shrug.

Christian suddenly knocked back the Firewhisky without waiting for everyone else and motioned for Ginny to pour him a third. “It’s not that I don’t want kids; it’s that I’m not going to have kids.”

Ginny slid a freshly filled glass back to Christian. “Rolf and Luna had kids.”

“I’m not Rolf.”

“Fair enough.”

“We don’t have kids,” Cedric tugged the glass out of Christian’s hands, “but we do have work in the morning.”

“He’s right,” Harry said. “Just because it’s off-season for you, Ginny, doesn’t mean the rest of us can take tomorrow off.”

“You’re not too old to go into work hungover yet,” she said. “If you are, I’m afraid I’ll just have to file for divorce.”

“Of all the side effects of ageing, that isn’t the one I thought you’d leave me for,” Harry laughed.

“A tragic end to our lengthy love affair.” She pulled him into a kiss; her breath was hot with cinnamon and pepper.

“One more drink,” Harry agreed as they separated, “but I’m going to check on the kids first.”

“Just follow the sounds of Exploding Snap,” Hermione said.

The small pop and shriek of a playful card game drew Harry across the entrance hall and back into the living room. James, Peter, Lily, Rose, and Hugo all sat on the floor around the low coffee table laughing as Hugo shook out the smouldering cards in his hand.

Del sat in the armchair, half-watching and half-reading a book Harry recognised from his Healing lessons with Sirius. Teddy and Victoire were curled up on the couch together, and Bea sat near the fireplace.

Harry scanned the room again in search of Violet, but he didn’t see her. Then he heard her footsteps on the stairs behind him.

“Oh — Harry —” she said, and hid something behind her back. “I thought you’d be with Ginny.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “If that’s a bottle of Firewhisky behind your back, you know you are eighteen now and I won’t stop you.”

She sheepishly pulled the bottle out. “I’m just so used to sneaking it after all these years — er — don’t tell Mum and Dad that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. As long as you promise James won’t get even a sip of it.”

“Merlin, I can’t imagine James with a drink in him. I’m glad I didn’t have to stay at Hogwarts long enough to see the Quidditch party where he tried his first drink.”

Harry hoped that would come later rather than sooner, though he was fairly certain he would have experimented in his fourth year if the Triwizard Tournament hadn’t consumed his attention.

As she tried to squeeze past him, he put a gentle hand on her wrist. “Hey — I heard about your Transfiguration N.E.W.T.”

“Merlin, Harry, it’s fine.”

“Is it?”

Violet chewed on her lower lip. “... Well, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to be Dad, you know.”

“I mean, I was never going to be you, so…” She tried to grin, but it wasn’t especially convincing.

“Vi…”

“I know. Really, I know. It’s just hard when you’re all so great, you know? I want to be all of it, too.”

“None of us are ‘all of it’ or we wouldn’t be what we are.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Do you know I’ve spent a lot of time wishing I was you?” Harry said.

Violet wrinkled her nose. “You don’t have to patronise me, Harry.”

“I’m not. I’m serious — I mean it, Violet,” he amended before she could get in a Sirius joke. “I really do. It’s not that I didn’t want to be an Auror, because I did, because Defence is something I’m good at and I want to keep doing good, but… Sometimes it doesn’t seem like there was any other choice. Not that I’m not happy — I am — but I don’t want you to pick something because you think you have to. Don’t go for Quidditch just because Dad did. And don’t try for a Potions shop because it’s what Mum would do, or a duelist because you think you have to out-duel me. And you really don’t have to be an Animagus just because Dad is.”

Violet bit down on her lip. “What if I don’t want to be an Animagus just because of Dad?”

“As long as you’re doing it for you, I think that’s alright.”

“Can’t I do it for someone else?”

Harry followed her gaze to the fireplace — to Bea. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Violet and Bea had been inseparable ever since they had arrived at Hogwarts, despite their sorting into Gryffindor and Slytherin.

“I suppose that’s what love is, isn’t it?”

Violet’s ears turned bright red and the colour filtered slowly into her cheeks. She elbowed him and hurried to join her friends.

Harry stayed long enough to watch Del, Teddy, Victoire, and Bea accept drinks from Violet, and to watch everyone break into laughter when the deck exploded in James’ face, singing his eyebrows.

Harry may not have made every choice in his life freely, but he was happy with where he had landed. This was a good place to be; it was a good life to have.

He rejoined his friends in the dining room, sandwiched by the laughter of his children in the living room and his parents in the kitchen, and immersed in the laughter of his friends.

And all was well.

#welp with my name changes all my carefully organized links are broken #so i guess thats a project for another day #hp everyone lives au #hp everyone lives #hp fic

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