At the Burrow, Harry's luck seemed to be on the upswing. Not only
was Arthur there but so were Bill, Charlie, and Fleur.
He thought this right up until the moment he realized the mood of the
family was currently in.
At least, the drama wasn't about him.
Which was a depressing rarity.
Fleur spotted Harry first and immediately, she ran to him, tears
streaming down her face and talking in such rapid French Harry was
at a loss.
" Ils ne peuvent pas! Tu ne peux pas les laisser! Tu ne peux pas les
laisser, 'Arry!"
Harry didn't know what she was saying or how to respond, so he
simply began rubbing her back as she clung to him and pleaded with
him. After some time Fleur quieted and just held onto him. Harry
looked over her head at Bill's scarred face. The man was
expressionless, as if he had gone somewhere far away in his mind.
"Bill?" he asked, calling him back to the here and now.
"The ministry is trying to nullify our marriage," Bill answered
tonelessly, his gaze still distant.
Charlie made a sound somewhere between a shout and roar as the
emotion he had been holding back broke its leash, "They can't do
this! Nothing in our history has ever called for this."
Harry was at a loss; nullify their marriage? How? Why?
It made no sense, so much so, he couldn't bring it in himself to be
angry. "I don't understand," he said.
"Of course, you wouldn't," Molly said, bustling into the room. "You've
had your head buried in the sand."
Harry glared at her, "How is it every time the wizarding world goes to
shit, it's my fault?"
"You were the one who wanted to be a part of the Order and to fight
Voldemort," Molly said coolly.
Harry hugged Fleur a little tighter to him, "Yeah, because Order or
no, Dumbledore or no, he was always trying to kill me. That wasn't
so much a choice as an inevitability."
Fleur pushed back from him and spoke in a voice atypically accented
as he hadn't heard it since his fourth year. "Please, 'Arry, please help
us. If the wizarding world would listen to anyone they would listen to
you."
Harry sighed heavily, because Molly was right to an extent, he had
been ignoring society and the greater happenings in their. If the state
of Hogwarts was any indication, things were not going well. Bracing
himself, he said, "I know, that's why I'm here. I need someone to
explain what's happening and why it's all going so wrong."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, "You better sit down then,
Harry, there is a lot to cover."
'A lot to cover' proceeded to be the understatement of the decade.
Harry wasn't sure what he was expecting when he arrived at the
Ministry; perhaps for people to stop and stare, to point fingers,
whisper, for someone to take his picture. But he had not by any
means expected everyone to stop .
A hush encompassed the great entrance hall over the people
freezing as they caught a glimpse of him. Harry alone moved as if
one through a forest on a windless day. The witches and wizards
who watched him like statues with only their eyes and the rise and
fall of their breath giving away their animated status.
Harry paused at the fountain, a fountain that had been restored to
the one he had returned had first seen in his fifth year. It was
preferable to the one of crushing "lesser beings" beneath the feet of
wizards, however, the magical creatures staring adoringly up at the
wizard and witch wasn't much better. Especially, in the light of recent
events.
Harry was not the best at transfiguration but he knew enough.
If he could imagine a better world what would he see?
He saw a house-elf smiling at passers-by, he saw a centaur gazing
down at people with a stoic expression and wise eyes, he saw
merpeople and kelpies swimming around in the base of the fountain,
and uncaring of the surface world. He saw dragons flying around the
lip of the fountain, he saw a Hippogryph and Thestral lunching for the
sky. He saw owls flying around their feet. He saw goblins looking
over the quality of a blade with shrewd eyes and great pride in their
people's own skills and accomplishments. He saw a werewolf resting
in a hollow, he saw a Veela and Lyprican sharing a secret, and
amongst all the fantastical, independent wonders Harry could
imagine, he saw a man reading a book and a woman staring out at
the world around her in wonder, her wand held forgotten at her side.
Harry raised his wand and what he imagined became reality.
And with every eye in the great entrance hall of the heart of Britain's
seat of power, the marble rippled and morphed into his vision.
The witch and the wizard amidst the magic, yet not as its master or
its origin.
As a final touch, he engraved words into the white marble, proving
that Hermione had taught him how to be neat and artful, at least in
magic,
He charmed the statue to be set into permanence, the marble would
have to be replaced if anyone wanted to remove the words he set
into stone:
We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part
we choose to act on. That's who we really are. ― Sirius Orion Black
Harry had always enjoyed art, he just hadn't never realized how easy
sculpting might be with magic until Hermione got bored one night
and pushed him to work on his transfiguration. Sure, the statue was
bigger than a teapot but it was an inanimate object and Harry had
the extra power to spare.
And scale was all a matter of perspective.
Harry looked back toward his audience who thankfully had frozen in
favour of gaping silently up at his creation.
I can do more than kill Dark Lords, he thought, more than a tad
bitterly as he turned back on his intended course.
People got out of his way, the unnatural silence seeming to echo in
his mind. The line to the wand weighed parted like a receding tide.
Harry was confused and a bit perturbed by this reaction. A month
after the final battle people hadn't responded to him like this and the
Hogwarts students certainly hadn't been overly awed by him. Of
course, a month after the war people were still grieving and almost
eight months later meant that the rumours —that the stories— had
grown probably to an absurd degree.
The wizard who weighed his wand shook violently and apologized
profusely when he almost dropped the Holly Wand.
Harry smiled gently at the man as he took his wand back. Harry kept
his spine straight and he felt equal parts enjoyment and hatred for
the crowd that continued to part before him, tripping over each other
to get out of his way. He was given an elevator to himself and
whenever it stopped -no one joined him, in fact, they apologized for
inconveniencing him.
The experience was almost surreal. It was hard to accept that he
was in his own skin this time, to believe that they were responding to
who he was.
When Harry finally reached Kingsley's office he was gratified with the
look of relief on the Minister's face.
Relief was an emotion he could understand.
"All of you get out," Kingsley ordered to the group of people sitting
before him. They all but ran, giving Harry near beatificat glances.
For his part, it was all Harry could do to not frown at them all.
It was as he had noted from the beginning, people of the wizarding
world were a strange lot.
"Harry Potter," Kingsley rumbled. "If you aren't a site for sore eyes.
Please tell me you're looking for a job and not to voice a complaint?"
Harry smiled sadly, "I hear they stripped your job of all the useful
powers."
Kingsley huffed a laugh, "Yes, I've become the public figurehead and
the public relations leader to this never ending nightmare the Ministry
has become, and not much else."
"I don't want a job," Harry said, almost apologetically.
Kingsley's face fell into tired lines.
Harry offered him another smile, "But I am here to help. Tell me what
I can do or say to stop this war against anything not completely
human."
Kingsley pulled out a bottle of fire whiskey and tossed it to Harry who
caught it with ease.
The Minister of Magic pulled out another bottle for himself before
sinking into his seat and said without a trace of mirth, "You're going
to need that."
Harry thought the newspaper overstated events and that the
Weasleys had read into the worst, he could never have imagined
how much they had downplayed it.
Together, Kingsley and Harry wrote a speech. Neither of them were
completely sober as they rehearsed it;
Over and over again. Kingsley scheduled a press meeting for the
following Saturday. He dropped Harry's name to allow the press time
to advertise it. There were no doubts about the large attendance that
would appear to gawk at him.
But if it meant ending the killings and giving more weight to pro-inter
species laws, Harry would do it.
As much for his world as the world Teddy would inherit.
When Harry made it back home he wanted nothing more than to curl
up and go to sleep.
He was bone tired and soul weary.
When he checked on Teddy, he found Andromeda curled up asleep
in the armchair next to the crib. Teddy must have been sound
asleep. Still, Harry peeked in on him all the same. He was expecting
to see a sleeping baby boy, only in the crib there wasn't a baby, there
was a puppy.
Harry screamed, "Teddy!" Reaching into the crib hoping against
hope that Teddy was under the blankets.
He wasn't.
Andromeda flung herself out of the chair, woken from his
exclamation. Her power raised the hairs on Harry's arms. She
scanned the room for danger, her wand brandished.
Harry grabbed the puppy with two hands, gentle despite himself
even as he yelled, "Did you eat my son!?" He shook the puppy who
whuffed at him as if excited to see him.
Harry was in full fight or flight mood. "Andromeda!" Harry yelled even
though she stood beside him. "Teddy's gone! Someone has stolen
Teddy!"
Andromeda said nothing.
What was with the silent treatment from everyone!
But her focus wasn't on him, it was on the puppy Harry was still
holding in his hands. She lowered her wand and cocking her head to
the side, Andromeda asked, "Teddy?"
The puppy yipped, and then sank his teeth into Harry's thumb.
It was Harry's turn to yip. But the pain cleared his head. Harry looked
at the puppy again and realized it was a wolf pup.
A wolf.
A werewolf?
Remus had been a werewolf. Had Teddy inherited lycanthropy from
his birth father?
Tonight was the night of the full moon. Harry looked out the window
and saw the moon shining like a silver pendant amongst the stars.
"Teddy," Harry said, relieved.
It was okay that Teddy was a werewolf, as long as he was alive and
healthy, they would all be alright.
Everything else they could handle.
The wolf pup, with its sable-grey coat, yipped again, wagging his tail.
His eyes were mismatched, one eye a greenish yellow and the other
a grey blue.
Harry petted Teddy's head, Teddy nuzzled him in return, licking the
teeth marks on his godfather's hand.
Andromeda started laughing, wild and rich, she laughed. Harry
glowered at her as she slipped to the floor, scooping Teddy up in her
arms as she fell on her butt.
Harry sat down beside her, and said as embarrassment at his
overreaction set it, "Sure, laugh it up."
She laughed harder.
"'He ate Teddy,'" she managed between laughs.
Harry flushed and petted Teddy's soft fur.
It was hard to say which version of him was cuter.
Andromeda leaned into Harry's side, and he put an arm around her.
Teddy fell asleep on their laps, for all the world looking like a real
wolf pup.
"Your life is never dull, is it, Harry?" Andromeda asked, sounding
fond and tad remorseful.
He laid a gentle kiss on her temple, "I don't think I would know what
to do with dull. The only time I can remember being bored is Bins'
class."
She nodded, then flashed him a real smile before saying, "Someday
Bins is going to tell your story and it will be dull and boring then."
Harry smiled in turn, his shoulders relaxing, "I think I'm okay with
that."
A moment of silence between them as Teddy rolled in their laps,
saved from rolling off by their hands.
"Harry?" she asked, as he began wiggling his fingers in front of
Teddy's nose, brushing over his whiskers.
"Andromeda?" he echoed, distracted as Teddy sneezed and brought
his paws up to swipe down his snout.
"I'm sorry."
Harry looked up to catch Andromeda's dark gaze, "For what?"
She searched his face, bringing up a hand to ever so gently touch
his cheek. "You deserve better than what life handed you."
He rested his cheek into her warm hand and said from his heart, "If
my life had been different, I wouldn't have known you and Teddy, at
least, not as we are now. Maybe it's selfish, but every day you both
make me feel like everything was worth it in the end because it led
me here."
Andromeda felt her heart, a painful constriction as the muscle
reminded her that it still beat, reminded her she was still among the
living.
She leaned into Harry's side and couldn't find the words to express
her gratitude.
This man who was too young for the burdens he carried and the
sorrows he had suffered.
He shamed her, he shamed the world.
She had over the years of the supposed greatness of the Boy Who
Lived, that he was Voldemort's equal.
But every fantastical hero's tale spun about him paled in comparison
to the reality of him. It was his magical strength that awed her,
though he was powerful, nor were it his deeds, no, it was the
resilience of his heart.
The strength of his love, the depth of his kindness, and goodness
that remained untarshnessed despite all that he had been through.
It was a type of strength and courage Andromeda lacked. She
couldn't agree with him, that this reality was in any way a desirable
one. She would never willingly choose a world without both
Nymphadora and her Ted in it.
But then, Teddy was Harry's Nymphadora. Harry was her grandson's
father, more so than perhaps even Teddy's birth father had been.
Harry loved Teddy with all that he was, Teddy's well-being was
second to none in his godfather's ambitions. Simply put, Harry had
set aside every aspect of his personal life to be a father, to be
Teddy's sole provider.
Sure, Andromeda was here to help, but not because she had a
desire to be a mother again. She knew her limitations, knew there
wasn't enough left in her to give Teddy the same things she had
given Nymphadora.
Grief had stolen the spark from her life, her edges were ragged, and
her belief in a brighter future had fallen out of sight.
She wouldn't always be offer Teddy the smiles that had come so
easily for Nymphadora, she couldn't fight off all his fears when she
lived in the ruins of her worst nightmare, and she couldn't be the role
model, to show her grandson how he ought to be.
Too much of who she was had died with Nymphadora and
Andromeda had already given up so much of who she had once
been in youth to be Ted's wife.
Being Ted's wife, she had been the very best version of herself, she
had been the woman she wanted and aspired to be. Such were the
aspirations of a good wife that seemed like folly now through the
eyes of a widow.
But Harry could give Teddy all those things and more, Teddy might
never know his birth parents, but he would never want for love or a
better father.
Andromeda's sorrow wore her down to the marrow in her bones and
yet Harry had removed from her all other burdens. Reasonably, she
knew it was wrong to take advantage of all that Harry offered. But
she knew that she might survive without him, it would be no life
worth living.
Teddy needed him.
She needed him.
Harry was her strength, her hope, her reason to believe that she
might be able to give her grandson a brighter future than the one she
had given to her daughter.
Andromeda knew in heart of hearts that she would never willingly let
Harry leave them, and what was more, she knew Harry would never
willingly leave them.
Unlike Ted.
Unlike Nymphadora.
So beneath the light of the moon, her grandson, a wolf in her arms, a
teenage living legend at her side, and despite all her broken pieces,
Andromeda felt —though not precisely happy— more at peace than
she had since her older sister had escaped Azkaban.
At peace in the knowledge that it would take more than a war to
separate this family now