Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

17^th December 2010

“Headmaster!”

Harry almost ignored the students’ call for a moment before the belated realisation that he was the Headmaster and the students were calling for him sunk in.

Harry stopped abruptly in the middle of the path back to the castle. He’d had a morning meeting with Hagrid out by the thestral pens to talk about Hagrid’s proposal to bring Norbert home. Harry had gently broken the refusal by the Board of Governors to the Professor for the Care for Magical Creatures.

Honestly, Harry was pleased that the Board had refused the proposal without him having to step in. He had hoped that his arguing with Hagrid about Norbert’s living situation had ended in his first year as a student; he could have done without revisiting it in his first year as Headmaster.

Thinking of those in their first year of schooling, Harry turned to the excited gaggle who had called out to him with a kind smile. He wasn’t surprised to see the first years out enjoying the snow before lunch. They had a free hour at that time and the whole school was in a festive mood since it was the last day before the Christmas break.

The red and gold scarves gave away the group as Gryffindors.

Harry smiled at the familiar beaming smile of a boy carrying a camera. Neville Creevey was the exact duplicate of his Dad, Colin. “Hi Neville, how can I help?”

“Could we get a photo with you and our snowman, Headmaster?” asked Neville brightly, red spots emerging on his cheeks.

“Please, Cousin Harry?” Celeste Lupin looked at him with wide brown puppy eyes.

Harry looked at the large snowman to the side of the path. All of the Gryffindors looked very pleased with themselves. There was a very large ball as the bottom, and a second for the torso. The head was very, very small in comparison, but it had two stones as eyes, a carrot nose, and a slightly scary twig smile. Looking at the group, Alan Turpin had been the one to sacrifice his scarf to the cause.

He nodded at the group and waved Neville over. He took control of the camera with his wand, directing it to take a group photo of all of them together.

“This is so awesome!” Neville chattered happily. “My Dad is going to be so jealous!”

Harry almost rolled his eyes as he waved the camera back into Neville’s hands.

He gave the Gryffindors a wave and resumed his walk back to the castle. He stopped briefly a bit further along to talk with a group of equally excited first year Slytherins who had decided to build a snow snake. None of them had a camera but he took the time to praise their efforts before continuing on his way.

He was almost back to the castle entrance when he came across a full-scale snow fight between the fourth years. He cast a shield as he walked through the flying snowballs, waving a hello to his grinning cousins Teddy and Leo as he went. The pair were as thick as thieves and as good as twins despite Teddy’s parents being Remus and Dora, and Leo’s being Simeon and Anna.

He shook his head as he got inside the warm castle, windlessly vanishing away the wet he brought in with him to save the house elves the job of cleaning up after him.

Argus Filch had retired five years before to a small cottage in the Highlands. Minerva, the Headmistress at the time, had decreed that they wouldn’t replace the position; the house elves were more than up to the task and very willing.

Harry hurried towards his quarters. Minerva had preferred to stay in her quarters by Gryffindor tower when she had been Headmistress, and Harry had followed her example. He had eschewed the grander suite set aside for the position for a smaller set of rooms situated right next to those he had once shared with his father.

His father still occupied them. Sirius Black was Hogwarts’ resident artist and the Professor of Magical Artistry. He had taught a small class of Sixth and Seventh Years since Harry’s own Sixth Year, and was happily settled into the position, juggling it with his responsibilities as Lord Black.

Harry enjoyed the Christmas decorations as he traversed the corridors. Each portrait was bedecked with a frame of tinsel or holly and ivy. They were small green trees with pretty lights tucked into corners, miniatures of the large tree in Hogwarts great hall. The house elves had outdone themselves, Harry thought, as he took the final corner and ended up at the door of his quarters. They were guarded by a new portrait of Hogwarts, the great dragon who the school was named to honour. Sirius had painted her with the permission of the original who still resided in the Headmaster’s office.

“Hello again, Hogwarts,” Harry greeted her cheerfully in parseltongue.

“My counterpart wants to know you have a guest in your office for lunch,” Hogwarts replied. “The Witch of Ravenclaw.”

“Luna’s here?!” Harry’s eyes widened with surprise. It had been months since he had seen her.  

He quickly sent his outerwear into his quarters with a swish of his wand and turned around to head to his office instead. Behind him the dragon huffed, a plume of smoke emerging from her nostrils.

He took a passageway that let him bypass the usual corridors and came out at the foot of his office stairs, surprising the gargoyle. He bounded up the winding steps two at a time and the door of his office swung open in welcome.

He found Luna sat on the floor in front of the ancient portrait of Hogwarts on the back wall of the office, chatting away to the dragon.

Luna gracefully got to her feet and Harry gaped at her very pregnant body for a second before she swept him up into a hug.

They settled in to catch-up with each other, sitting on the comfy sofa Harry had installed by the windows which looked out onto the Hogwarts’ grounds. The small lunch of soup and sandwiches swiftly disappeared as they talked about Harry’s start as Headmaster.

“I’d like to come home,” Luna finally said.

“You’re always welcome,” Harry responded. “But I thought…”

“I once told Hogwarts I’d be away for twenty years when I was thirteen, and we are a few years shy of that,” Luna admitted. Her hand fell protectively to her very evident bump. “Bug here changed my plans.”

“I didn’t realise you were seeing someone,” Harry began tentatively.

“I wasn’t,” Luna said. “I’m not.” She smiled at him. “Bug is an accident of Fate.”

Harry felt the weight of her words resonate deep inside of him to the part of him who was and always would be Death’s Champion.

“Well, they’ll have no shortage of honorary Aunts and Uncles,” Harry said.

Bug wouldn’t be the first child born in their small group since Ron had made an early start on being a parent. Harry maintained his best mate was trying to build his own Quidditch team.

“We’d love to have you and Bug in the castle, Luna.”

Luna smiled, her luminous silver eyes twinkling. “Events are moving faster than anticipated.” She pinned him with an expectant gaze. “You decided to become Headmaster.”

“It felt like the right time,” Harry murmured. He’d felt the pull to be the Headmaster more strongly than ever once he’d turned thirty.  Somehow his conversation with Minerva about how he was feeling had ended up with him agreeing to take up the role.

“And Susan agreed to take over the Defence of the Dark Arts,” Luna commented.

“She did,” Harry said softly. “Just as Ron decided to retire from Quidditch management and take up his position this year, and Hermione is arranging to take over the infirmary once she’s home from the Valley clinic this time.”

“Since Draco never left in the first place, we’ll all be back under her wings then,” Luna murmured. “Apart from Neville, but he’s exactly where he needs to be as Minister of Magic.”

Harry nodded. The strange feeling of rightness echoed in his soul once more. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

Luna smiled. “We have time to prepare, but with the new year comes the new challenge for us all.”

Harry reached over and caught hold of her hand. “Then I’m glad doubly you’re home.”

o-O-o

It wasn’t the first time Harry had dreamed of the cemetery at Godric’s Hollow. He stood in front of the gravestone of his parents and waited in the chill.

A figure appeared behind the stone. Death was cloaked head to toe in black, the ubiquitous hood was up, and there was only darkness where a face should be.

“Champion,” Death intoned.

Harry bowed his head. “It is time, isn’t it?”

A shiver crept down his spine as Death hummed.

“The Witch of Ravenclaw speaks the truth,” Death confirmed, “Fate has spoken and the mortal world is shifting.”

“I saw a battlefield,” Harry murmured, “and a boy with a sword.”

Death placed a bony hand on top of the gravestone. “And where were you, my Raven?”

“Beside him,” Harry answered.

“Because that is where my Champion has always been destined to be,” Death’s form began to fade into the surrounding swirling fog, “standing beside his King.”

o-O-o

18^th December 2010

Harry waved goodbye to the carriages transporting the majority of the school home for the Christmas break. He laughed as Padfoot playfully bounded after the last carriage in his Grim form before returning and transforming to his human self.

The years had been kind to his father, Harry mused fondly. There was hardly any grey creeping into the full head of dark hair that Padfoot wore in a low bun while teaching and painting. He knew Padfoot still followed the fitness regime they’d started the Summer Padfoot had adopted him and it showed in Padfoot’s lithe and athletic form. It was amusing to Harry that his father still garnered the most crushes in the school, although Draco was giving him a run for his money.

Padfoot dropped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and gave him a sideways hug. “Congrats on making it through your first term as the Big Cheese, kiddo.”

“First Christmas ahead,” Minerva countered as she joined them, leaning heavily on the walking stick she’d taken to using after a particularly heavy fall had shattered her hip. “There are only a handful of students staying over, although we will have the lot from Haven too on Christmas Day.”

Harry glanced over at her and smiled. “I’m ready.” He was really looking forward to greeting the kids from Haven.

Haven was the first Wizarding Children’s home established by Susan’s parents. They’d converted an old manor house on the outskirts of Edinburgh for the task. Harry loved visiting the place although he hadn’t had a chance since becoming Headmaster.

Minerva nodded her acknowledgement and farewell as Harry and Sirius turned in the direction of their quarters.

“Are you ready for the family descending on Christmas Eve?” asked Harry.

They had established the tradition back in Harry’s Fifth Year when Minerva had asked Padfoot and Harry to stay in the castle for Christmas.

The Black family would gather on Christmas Eve for dinner in Padfoot’s quarters and Christmas morning would see those members of the family still in the castle exchanging presents before they went down to the Great Hall for Christmas lunch with the rest of those remaining at the school.

“Dobby is on top of it all,” Padfoot said brightly. “When is Hermione due back?”

“Her portkey will return her to my office just before lunch on Christmas Eve. I figure we’ll have lunch just the two of us, have some time for ourselves before the rest of the family arrive,” Harry said, hiding his nerves because he had plans and he didn’t want Padfoot to guess at them.

“She’s finished at the clinic then?” Padfoot checked.

Harry nodded. “She was thinking about doing a rotation at Saint Mungo’s again, and I know they wanted her back, but I’m hoping she’ll stay and start the handover with Helen.”

“Luna being here and pregnant might convince her,” Padfoot commented.

Harry nodded because he knew it probably would sway Hermione. She and Luna had somehow ended up as best friends despite being very different people.

He sneaked a look at Padfoot. “Are we expecting Marco?”

The Head of the Italian Aurors had been Padfoot’s long-distance lover for over a decade. Padfoot usually spent a month in Italy during the Summer; Marco spent a month in England. In between, they exchanged love letters and Floo calls. Some years Marco managed to get away and spend the Christmas break with them.

Harry liked Marco. The dark-haired Italian was a good guy who genuinely cared about Padfoot. Harry didn’t quite get their long-distance arrangement, but it worked for them.

Padfoot shook his head. “He’s got to work. He’ll come over on Boxing Day.”

They had reached the corridor and Padfoot’s door was up first.

“You want to come in and have a mulled wine with your old man?” asked Padfoot, nudging him.

“I would,” Harry sighed, “but Theo’s waiting on me. He’s got a stack of things for me to sign as Lord Potter apparently.”

Padfoot grimaced. “If it’s anything like the stack Remus had Dobby bring to me to sign as Lord Black yesterday…” his hand landed heavily on Harry’s shoulder, “good luck. You’re going to need it.” His bright silver eyes gave away his amusement.

Harry poked him before he stepped forward and hugged his father briefly. “I’ll drop round before lunch?”

“You might want to make that dinner,” Padfoot teased.

Harry laughed as he walked away.

He entered his quarters unsurprised to find Theo had set-up at the dining table towards the back of the room. The window there had a great view of the Quidditch pitch. He raised an eyebrow at just how much parchment covered the table.

Maybe Padfoot hadn’t actually been joking, Harry considered with a twinge of concern even as he greeted Theo cheerfully.

Theo had assumed the position of Steward of the House of Potter after graduating from Merlin College at Cambridge with a joint magical Mastery in Politics and Economics. He’d apprenticed with Remus for a year before Remus had declared him perfectly capable of handling the Nott Estate. A year later, Theo had proposed taking over the Potter Estate to enable Remus to focus on his Alpha responsibilities. Remus’ pack had picked up a lot of werewolves asking for sanctuary in the wake of Fenrir Greyback’s demise and their return to England.

Harry had no complaints.

Theo had a knack for business and he was politically a lot more astute than Harry himself. He was a good leader for the Potter alliance in the Wizengamot (he had been pivotal in getting Neville elected Minister), and he held proxy for both the Houses of Potter and Black when Harry and Padfoot couldn’t make a session.

“Don’t look so worried,” Theo remarked dryly, “only half of these are yours. I figured I’d do mine at the same time.”

Harry pushed a hand through his dark messy hair. “Well, I’m a little relieved.” He looked around the table nervously. “Uh, did you…”

Theo arched an eyebrow and tapped his bag which was sitting on the chair beside him with his wand. Three boxes emerged and floated down onto the table.

“Griphook says hello,” Theo said. He pointed at the first. “Your grandmother’s.” He moved to the second. “The Lady Peverell ring.” He tapped the third. “But I think you’ll want this one for Granger. It’s the Lady Potter ring.”   

Harry picked up the ring box and opened it. The simple gold band had an oval ruby, not too big and not too small, framed with two diamonds. It was simple and elegant. It was perfect for Hermione.

“You’re right,” Harry said. “This is the one.”

Theo swished his wand. The other two boxes disappeared, heading back to the vault. “Do you need help with the rest of the preparations?”

Harry shook his head. “Dobby’s pulling together the picnic on the day so…”

Theo waited until Harry sat down before he did the same. “Have you told Sirius yet? Or Weasley?”

Harry shook his head. He sighed. “I’ll tell Padfoot later.”

Traditionally, as Padfoot’s heir he knew he should have told Padfoot before he’d even selected the ring, but he knew deep down that Padfoot would approve.

“And Weasley?” Theo pushed.

Harry looked over at him. “What is with you all still calling each other by your surnames? You’ve been friends for years.”

Theo shrugged. “It’s our thing.” He pointed at him. “And you’re deflecting.”

Harry slumped in his seat, feeling more like the teenager he had once been than the Headmaster he was.

“He’s going to be upset if he finds out you were planning to propose to Granger and didn’t tell him,” Theo said.

“I know,” Harry sighed. “I just want to keep the people who know as few as possible for as long as possible. I’ll tell him before she’s back.”

Theo hummed. “I get it. You and Lord Black were literally the only people I told before I proposed to Jeremy.”

“How is your husband?” asked Harry brightly, grabbing onto the opportunity to change the subject and running with it.

Theo shot him a look which told him that he was not fooled. “Jeremy’s good.” He paused. “He wants us to have a baby next year.”

“What do you want?” asked Harry, sensing Theo’s uncertainty.

“The rumour is that Luna’s come back?” Theo looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry nodded slowly. “She’s back.”

“All the protectors are back in Hogwarts,” Theo stated as though testing out the words. “Is it the right time for a baby?”

Harry spread his hands out even as he shrugged. “Is it the right time to propose and plan a wedding? Remus got married and had a baby during the whole Voldemort thing.” He caught Theo’s gaze. “Whatever we face, we face together.”

Theo nodded. He patted the stack of parchment. “Ready to get started then, Lord Potter?”

Harry straightened and nodded. “Let’s get this done.”

o-O-o

Harry was back in his childhood nursery at Godric’s Hollow. He stood in front of the empty crib and sighed.

He rarely dreamed about Godric’s Hollow. The old cottage had been restored years ago, but Harry had never been able to bring himself to live in the place. He much preferred the Hogsmeade house which Sirius had given over to Harry so Harry would have his own place after Hogwarts. He and Ron had shared the house until his friend’s marriage.

Nobody lived at the Potters’ cottage in the Hollow and perhaps nobody ever would. Theo had suggested taking the cottage down and building a memorial instead, but Harry wasn’t sure he would ever feel able to take that step.

Warm arms slid around him and he turned into his mother’s embrace with a sigh.

There were moments he regretted being the Master of the Hallows but in the moments where he got to speak to his parents through the Veil…he was simply grateful. When he eased away from the needed hug, his eyes drank in his mother.

Lily Potter looked as young as the day she had defended Harry and died to save him. Her auburn hair was loose around her shoulders, her pretty green tartan dress a festive touch. Her emerald gaze met Harry’s sympathetically.

“You’re worried,” Lily cupped his cheek, her hand impossibly warm against his skin.

Harry grimaced, pushing a hand through his hair. “Why did you and Dad get married in the middle of a war?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Lily replied. “We loved each other and wanted to be together. We weren’t going to let those dark idiots ruin that for us.” Her eyes met his firmly. “And you shouldn’t let what is to come ruin your plans with Hermione.”

“I love her,” Harry said quietly.

“She loves you too,” Lily smiles warmly. “I couldn’t be happier for you and you know your Dad is equally thrilled.”

Something in Harry eased with his own parents’ blessing.

“Padfoot’s going to be thrilled,” Harry said out loud. He’d held off telling him overcome with a rush of uncertainty after his conversation with Theo.

Lily laughed. “He’ll be campaigning for grandkids, that’s for sure.”

Butterflies fluttered in Harry’s belly.

“One step at a time,” Harry croaked.Lily grinned at him. “Exactly,” she dropped a kiss on his cheek and stepped away, fading back beyond the Veil, “one step at a time.”

To be continued in part 2.

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