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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Purple Hair

April 1991

Harry Potter loved school even though many thought he was rather odd (his cousin Dudley to blame), except for the Librarian. He spent lunch and recess every school day in the library. The Librarian thought it was the best for him because he could read whatever he wanted, and he often chose fiction for the escape. In fact, the Librarian (he always thought of her a kind of super hero, and so always thought of her in capital letters) had taken to getting more advanced fiction from the public library, just for him to enjoy (Uncle Vernon did not care for Harry going to the public library as that would distract him from his chores.) More importantly, he felt some love in the school library. Just now, he was reading Children of the Dust by Louise Lawrence. It was not a difficult read by any means for the 10-year-old. The Librarian had just thought that he might enjoy it. He had it in his schoolbag this moment, taking a chance with it, risking the wrath of Uncle Vernon. If Uncle Vernon found it, he would be locked up in the cupboard again. Perhaps this evening, he would get a chance to read it. The first section was quite sad thus far. Everyone was dying of radiation sickness after nuclear bombs were dropped all over the UK. If such a thing actually happened, he would not want to die slowly like Sarah and William in the book.

Harry was too lost in his daydreaming to realize that Dudley and his gang were right behind him. Usually, he did not let his guard down, or let anything cloud his thoughts while walking home from school. Dudley and his friends liked to play Harry Hunting.

“Hey, Freak,” Dudley said in a mildly creepy voice from behind his left shoulder, and before Harry could react, Dudley drove a fist into his ribs. Harry groaned and bent over gasping for a moment, each breath worsening. He didn’t think a rib fractured this time, but he was still sore from his last rib fracture. The group of bullies laughed. Harry was not altogether sure if he could run, but realized that he needed to try, otherwise Dudley’s punch was always an invitation to the others to do the same. He took off as fast as he could, as fast as his achy ribs and hip allowed. He used to be so fast, and he missed full-out running. Now his maybe-asthma was getting worse. Harry saw spots in front of his eyes for a moment, as he stopped behind a tree down the road. He tried to catch his breath while peaking around to see where his cousin and fellow bullies were. They were laughing, but they looked like they were turning off to the nearby play park instead of following him.

Harry began trudging along again after using the inhaler the school nurse had finally procured for him. His relatives had no interest in taking Harry to a specialist as was politely suggested to them. In fact, they rarely saw to Harry’s health. Uncle Vernon said that because of Harry’s “freakishness,” he could heal himself. What usually happened was that injuries seemed to heal, in time, for Harry. He had realized that he perhaps did heal a bit faster than other people, but pain would linger for a long time. This was true for the case of his hip and leg. A year and a half before, Dudley had shoved Harry down the stairs at Number Four Privet Drive, and the pain was incredible for a while, but most of the pain went away after only week. The remainder of the pain had never gone away. Dudley accused Harry of provoking this incident (Dudley thought Harry had stolen something from his room) and Uncle Vernon had believed him. Uncle Vernon thought the sun shined from Dudley’s arse.

It took him longer than usual to get home to the Dursley house. Besides fiction, he also liked anatomy and medical books, and had figured out that if he did indeed have asthma, it was definitely exercised-induced. He had no clue if he had allergies.

After the loo and a glass of water, he would need to get his assigned chores done as soon as possible so that he could be free to finish reading his book, as well as avoid anything “extra” and being locked in his cupboard without food. Again. He often wondered if his real parents would have treated him this way. He knew from books and neighborhood families that there were very loving families out there. Perhaps it was just all fiction? Maybe everyone just put on an act like his aunt and uncle did frequently? Harry was not sure, but they had new neighbors just directly across the street from Number 4 Privet Drive, and the mum there with three little children always seemed loving and kind while they were outdoors playing together. He really hoped that it was not an act. He liked to believe his mother would have been the same way.

Harry thought he could remember a bit about his mum, but wondered if it was his imagination. He remembered being cuddled in someone’s arms, and a gentle kiss, but maybe it was a dream. He often dreamed of a flying motorcycle. He learned at a very early age to never say anything about this, because Uncle Vernon would lose his temper. Aunt Petunia looked more scared than angry, he had observed. He had no idea why, except that his current hypothesis (he loved that word) was that maybe Aunt Petunia did not agree with Uncle Vernon all the time. Why was Aunt Petunia scared?

Once he arrived at home (although he had come to the conclusion the year before that it wasn’t a really home for him, because then he would have a room that wasn’t a cupboard with spiders to be locked in, he would be willingly offered food, given clothes that fit, and perhaps earn an allowance for the chores he did), he stowed his schoolbag in his cupboard carefully, hidden so that no one would think about looking and finding the book, and pushed his glasses up. Aunt Petunia was out, and it looked like she would not be back for a couple hours yet. He let out a short sigh (a long sigh would have involved deeper breathing.) So much to do on the flower beds, and it was only the beginning of spring. He had to do it, so he might as well get started after going to the loo. He was happy that he did not need to clean it today. Sometimes the cleaner chemicals made it more difficult for him to breathe. Anyway, he did enjoy being out in the garden.

Harry thought it a bit early for the new soil that Aunt Petunia had ordered, however. The soil itself was in a heap next to the shed. He knew he needed to work on it in a timely manner, otherwise Uncle Vernon would get upset if it did not look as if Harry were working quickly enough. Sometimes Uncle Vernon would punish Harry for being too slow. Uncle Vernon had been relatively nice recently. No being locked in the cupboard again and being called a freak by him was at a minimum. Perhaps Harry had finally done everything well enough? Really, though, no matter what, he was always the freak. His uncle could always find something, if he was of the mind, to pin on him, the freak.

The long-handled wood and metal shovel was heavy, and it was awkward for Harry to use well. He was very skinny and not very tall. He used what he could to hold up his jeans, which were much too large for him. He got Dudley’s old clothes. If he could get a hold of a needle, thread, and scissors, maybe he could attempt to make them smaller. That couldn’t look any worse!

Still, he needed to get as much completed as possible before it was time to start supper. Aunt Petunia left a note on the chore list concerning what he was to prepare. He was never sure if he would actually get enough food or not during the meal. Dudley, if he was still hungry, would just steal food from Harry’s plate. He just wanted to be able to eat all the food he wanted without fear of it being stolen, and maybe even read an exciting book while doing so. This idea sounded like heaven. Harry carried dirt over to the flower beds that lined the front walk, one shovelful at a time. It was slow going.

“Freak, you’re dirty! I’ll tell mum if you come inside with all that dirt,” Dudley said with a another sneer, standing over Harry, as Harry tried to smooth out some of the soil with the shovel. Fortunately for Harry, his cousin’s friends were no longer accomanying Dudley.

“I won’t, Dud. Leave me alone,” Harry said, with defiance in his voice. He was irritated.

“Freak boy is getting angry, isn’t he,” Dudley said in a taunting voice. Harry just really wished sometimes he could do something to Dudley. Odd things had happened with him before (and he had gotten locked in the cupboard for them), but he didn’t know how to make them happen. He squinted his eyes, thinking about the odd things, and just as Dudley was headed indoors for a snack, Dudley’s hair turned purple! How had he done that, exactly?

Dudley didn’t seem to notice a thing as he walked to the front door muttering “freak, freak, freak” under his breath and thinking about the tasty stash of snacks he had up in his bedroom that his mother knew nothing about.

LLLLLLLLLL

Harry still could not believe his eyes. He had really made Dudley’s hair turn purple!

I don’t know how to turn his hair back! Maybe it will fade before he gets home. Uncle Vernon! He took some breaths to calm himself. Should he run away? He would be locked in his cupboard for sure, or maybe worse, because Uncle Vernon would certainly be angry when he saw what happened to Dudley’s hair. Harry would be blamed, of course, and he would be blamed because of his freakishness. He gave another sigh and kept working as his anxiety increased. Maybe his uncle and aunt would believe that Dudley had gotten hair dye from the shop? He snickered nervously a bit at that thought.

After he got as much of the soil in the front flower beds as possible, he had to take a break, for just a moment. He was so tired, sore, and dirty. He tried to keep clean, but when he was doing work such as this, it was difficult. He loved the feeling of being clean, but that, too, was one of the privileges he had to earn. Freaks had to earn showers. He sat down near the dirt pile for a few minutes, the shovel standing upright in the pile where he had shoved it in. He thought he had time, because Uncle Vernon shouldn’t be home yet for another hour and a half at least. He would need to change his clothes soon and start dinner. Perhaps if the meal was ready, Uncle Vernon would be nice (or at least not angry) tonight. Maybe if Dudley’s hair had changed back to normal. Maybe the color would fade. Normal was the key phrase. The Dursleys wanted everything to be NORMAL.

“Get up and keep working,” Aunt Petunia said, as she turned up the walk, coming home from a neighbor’s house. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the shovel. Petunia stealthily stepped across the to him, and whispered,

“I will make the meal. Put as much soil as you can into the back garden. Vernon wants it out of the way as soon as possible.” Harry was a bit shocked at this, as Aunt Petunia was rarely this nice. He wondered what she would do if Dudley’s hair was still purple when she saw him.

A mere twenty minutes later, he heard squealing tires in the front of the house. Uncle Vernon was home! Early! Harry quickly decided to diligently keep carrying shovelfuls of dirt to the flower beds in the back garden as it would be better to stay out of the way. It was a full hour early. He heard the door slam, and Uncle Vernon’s heavy steps go into the house. Harry’s curiously got the better of him and hid along the back of the house under an open window, so he could eavesdrop without being seen. He gently set the shovel against the wall so as to not give himself away.

“Dudley! Come down here, son! I have the news we’ve been waiting for!” Vernon bellowed. “You have been accepted at my alma mater, Smeltings! Starting September!”

“Oh, Vernon, that’s wonderful!” Petunia said. “Yes, Duddlykins, please come down.”

“I have your Smeltings stick, Dudley. It’s just like mine,” Vernon said proudly. Harry cringed under the window. Oh, no. Does Dudley have purple hair still? Why had that happened? He was in so, so much trouble. It wouldn’t matter that he didn’t know how that happened. “Bloody hell,” he whispered under his breath, trying to consider his options. Run for it? He was still quite sore from his attempt to run earlier in the day. Dudley must have come down the stairs then, because there were loud gasps from his parents.

“Why is your hair purple, Dudley?” Petunia asked, her voice incredulous.

“Purple?” Dudley screamed, and Harry heard him run clumsily for the downstairs loo to look in the mirror. “Aaahhh!”

Harry’s heart plummeted as he imagined that the silence from Uncle Vernon must be the rage growing and his face turning red, perhaps even purple.

Unfortunately, Harry was correct.

“That freak! Freak, where are you? You did this!” Harry heard Vernon explode, slamming around in the house, and finally, coming to the door that lead to the back garden. Harry had been debating if he could try to hide, but didn’t know where, and began a limping run toward the back fence. Maybe he would try to climb over it. Yes, that’s what he would do. The sound of the shovel being scraped from where he’d left it against the wall of the house came to his ears. What was his uncle planning? Now wheezing from his brief run, he was three-quarters of the way to the fence when he felt the hard, wooden handle of the shovel hit him in the back, and he sprawled face down on the ground. He tried not to panic, but Uncle Vernon had never been quite like this before. Usually he locked Harry in the cupboard and disallowed him food. Never anything such as this.

“You, boy, you! You ruined our happy family celebration with your freakishness. Jealous Dudley will go to Smeltings, are you? Trying to run away, are you? Let’s see if this will finally get the freak out of you,” Vernon said in low, menacing voice, to mind the neighbors. His face churned with malice as Harry twisted his head around to see what Vernon had in mind.

Harry lost consciousness shortly after Vernon struck his leg with the blade of the shovel for the first time. He was not aware of his uncle hitting and pounding his leg over and again, and the blood flowing out into the garden.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Morning

Harry awoke to more pain than he had ever felt in his life (and he’d felt a lot of pain, not that he would ever admit it as he normally had a very high pain tolerance.) He was in his cupboard on his bed. His left leg felt like it was on fire, although some of it felt rather numb as well. His blanket was pulled over hm. And just how did he get here? He vaguely remembered running for the fence, Uncle Vernon chasing him, and falling in the back garden. He remembered waking up a bit once before, feeling like he was going to die outside. It had been nearly dark.

It must have been Aunt Petunia, he realized, while trying desperately to not scream in pain. She must have brought him inside. He could not imagine Uncle Vernon bringing him in after he had this. Whatever this was.

At that moment, the cupboard door slowly and silently opened. Aunt Petunia came in with pain medicine, something she had never done for him, and helped him sit up a bit so he could swallow it with the glass of water she held to his lips. Harry drank thirstily. It must be bad if she’s helping me, he vaguely thought. Aunt Petunia quietly whispered to Harry,

“Harry, Vernon can’t know I’ve helped you this much. I had to wait to bring you indoors. I hope the cuts will heal all right. They’re. . . rather. . . deep. I tried to clean them up and wrapped them. Vernon won’t let me take you to hospital.” Harry whispered, green eyes bright with pain, “Dudley’s hair?” Aunt Petunia gazed at him and said,

“We’ve already dyed it. No one will know.” Harry thought she didn’t seem quite a nice as she had moments before, but still, she was being nicer than normal, and he appreciated it. She left again but didn’t lock the cupboard door. He supposed he should try to sleep, but the pain was still intense. He did have a little torch that someone had once given him (also at school), and he took it out, so he could try to distract himself with his book after Aunt Petunia had turned off the dim ceiling light in the cupboard. All he had wanted to do was read the book. He wasn’t afraid of being caught anymore. His uncle had proven that he might kill him if he got another chance.

He had difficulty concentrating, however. This pain was so much worse than the nagging pain in his hip. His leg throbbed. In fact, it felt somehow loose. Was that possible? Did Uncle Vernon actually cut off his leg? He grabbed his glasses and put them on. He lifted himself up a bit, shined the torch, and saw that his leg was there. He pulled off the blanket. It did look like Aunt Petunia had wrapped his entire leg in gauze. A lot of it, although he could see some blood seeping through. Had she really done that for him? She had never done such a thing before. It was usually up to himself. From what he was feeling, he thought he should probably get stitches at the very least. He wondered how much blood he had lost. And he wondered if maybe his uncle had cut his Achilles tendon. He didn’t think he could walk. He couldn’t move his foot at all, or didn't think he could because it felt numb. Harry knew about all of this because sometimes in the school library, if he needed a break from a particularly intense piece of fiction, he would read about human anatomy. He had a vague idea that if he lived to grow up, he wanted to go to medical school. He liked the idea of helping others in this way, to help fix what needed to be fixed.
He fell into an uneasy, lightheaded sleep eventually as the pain medication spread throughout his body, after taking care of his wheezing with the inhaler, hiding it and the book away again in his schoolbag, and removing his glasses. He kept the torch at his side in bed.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Harry woke early in the morning, whimpering in pain. He never whimpered. He would usually just try to bear the pain from injuries in stoic silence, or risk being punished again. This morning was different. His left leg felt less on fire and more numb feeling all over. He found a glass of water on the floor beside his cot. Next to it was a dose of pain medication. Aunt Petunia. Why is she being so nice? He sat up, still lightheaded and grabbed for his glasses.

He heard Uncle Vernon walking around upstairs, presumably getting ready for work. Dudley was probably still asleep, or maybe watching videos on his VCR. There was sound at the door of the cupboard. Aunt Petunia popped her face in and whispered, not really looking at him,

“Be quiet until Vernon leaves for work.” She let the door close, and he heard a lock snap. Harry tried to take a deep breath. He really wanted to ask her if she would just take him to hospital. He needed help, but he knew better than to ask that. They always just expected him to heal on his own. While it was true that he seemed to heal relatively fast in some ways compared to most people, he knew it was too late for this. He just wasn’t sure what would happen with his leg. He suspected now that besides a damaged Achilles, he probably had several fractures in his tibia and fibula (again, his anatomy and medicine reading coming in handy.) It was hard to tell. The gauze wasn’t much bloodier than before, so that seemed like a good sign. He had also read some first aid books his school Librarian had because it was personally useful. He tried to take care of himself for the most part since normally no one else usually did, not even Aunt Petunia.

“Petunia, I’m ready for breakfast!” Uncle Vernon bellowed from the stairs as he clomped down them over Harry’s head.

“It is ready, dear,” Aunt Petunia said in a rather fake, peppy voice. “Here are the eggs, and I’ll fetch the bacon now. Would you like some tea?”

“Where’s the freak boy? Shouldn’t he be helping you?” Uncle Vernon snarled.

“I am letting the boy have a lie-in today. He was feeling ill overnight.” She sounds nervous, Harry thought. And now he felt downright anxious, because didn’t Uncle Vernon remember attacking him with the shovel yesterday? He felt his breath getting tight, but he tried to keep it even. It would not do to have a panic attack at the moment.

“Hmmph. Lazy, no good freak,” Vernon grumbled. “Just see to it that he gets his chores done. Otherwise he should be locked in the cupboard today. No food.”

A burst of pain suddenly shot up from Harry’s leg, and he gasped, panting, trying not to make a sound. He could not help the coughing fit that finally broke through.

“What was that?” Uncle Vernon sounded as if he were going to come over to the cupboard door.

“It’s all right, Vernon,” Aunt Petunia said soothingly. “Eat your breakfast. Here’s some toast.” Harry was faintly aware of Dudley’s steps on the stairs.

“Where’s Harry?” Dudley asked, with a similar tone of voice as his father’s.

“He is a bit ill,” Aunt Petunia said. “Would you like chocolate milk, Duddykins?”
Their voices faded as Harry fainted back into his cot.

LLLLLLLLLLL

Harry awoke a third time as his aunt was struggling to pick him up out of the cupboard. He felt disoriented when Aunt Petunia carried him to the small downstairs toilet. She sat him on the toilet, and he fumbled around dimly trying to get his trousers and pants down without putting any weight on his leg. His leg was on fire again, but he got his pants off enough to relieve himself. He was so incredibly lightheaded.

Aunt Petunia picked him up with a grunt when he was done and then carried him into the kitchen where she laid him down on the floor on the blanket that she must have gotten from his cot. Without saying a word, she began to unwrap his leg. He tried not to cry out in agony, and then reached up to cover his nose. Something smelled horrible. He groaned as the gauze was pulled away and tried not to pass out again. He heard a loud gasp from his aunt.

“Harry, we’re going to A&E. I told Vernon that I am going shopping all day today,” Aunt Petunia said sharply. It was understood by Harry that she would stay as long as possible with him but she must be home for Uncle Vernon later.

Harry closed his eyes and let her carry him to her car. He was vaguely aware that she looked around first to make sure that no one in the neighborhood could see what was happening. He shivered as she lay him on the backseat, wrapped in the blanket. At hospital, A&E was busy, but after hospital staff had helped get Harry out of the car and saw his raw, oozing, destroyed leg, he quickly became a top priority. Harry drifted in and out for a long time. He was aware that Aunt Petunia was still there when they started an IV in his arm for strong antibiotics. They said they might make him feel sick to his stomach. He was somewhat aware of the x-rays they took of nearly his whole body after he mumbled something about his rib pain while coughing. He didn’t really remember most of it. He remembered being asked if he had asthma because the doctor thought he sounded wheezy, after it was decided that he did not have a punctured lung. He murmured maybe to that question. Aunt Petunia, in the background, explained that they did not think Harry’s asthma was as bad as all that, and no, they hadn’t taken him to see a specialist because they didn’t think it was necessary.

A mask was put over his face. It was a breathing treatment, they said, to help his wheezing. After it was over, they gave him oxygen. He could breathe so much easier now, but they had to get him ready for surgery immediately, because of the infection. They must have given him something for the pain in the IV, too. He was drifting away and did not really care much anymore.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Recovery (with a side of floating, but I am not writing a certain other story, so no balloons involved.)

When Harry next woke, he felt as if he were floating. “This is nice,” he murmured softly.

“Do you think you could try a sip of juice?” A voice whispered in his ear. He nodded, and a straw was placed near his lips. He sipped a very small amount, swallowing slowly. It was cool and sweet. He wanted more. “Just two more sips now,” the voice said. He licked his lips. The juice seemed to wake him up somewhat.

“Glasses?” Harry asked. The voice put his glasses on for him. “Thanks,” he said. Even thought he was still floating, he wanted to see. He looked up to the ceiling, surprised by the bright lights he found there.

“You’re in recovery after surgery,” the voice said. It was a nice calm voice. He rather liked it. “We will be moving you to the Paediatric ward soon.” If Harry had been a bit less floaty, he would have wondered about the surgery more. He couldn’t exactly remember everything just now. He felt like drifting off to sleep again. The floating and the juice were so nice.

LLLLLLLLL

“Harry. Harry? I need you to wake up. I am Nurse Beth,” the nurse said, “and I will be one of your nurses after we move you to your room. Come, Harry, open your eyes.” Harry nodded, opened his eyes again, and wanted to giggle for no good reason. Maybe it was the floating. So relaxing.

The next time he awake, he found himself in a different room. The walls were yellow, he could see, but he needed his glasses again. He was very thirsty. “Hello?” he called out hoarsely. Nurse Beth (he was happy to have remembered her name) came around the corner from the nearby desk.

“It’s nice to see you awake, Harry,” she said, giving him his glasses again. She reached out to take his pulse, and then listened to his chest with her stethoscope. He was still lying down nearly flat on his back, but no longer floaty. She said his breathing sounded fine right now. She took his temperature next.

“Is it high?” Harry asked casually, though his tongue was sticky with dryness.

“You still have a fever, young man, but it is much lower than it was earlier. I am very happy about that,” Beth said. “This means the antibiotics are working.”

“Antibiotics were an important discovery in modern medicine,” Harry commented. He had read many novels in which the lack of antibiotics caused a lot of heartache for the characters. Harry wasn’t floating anymore, but he still felt different, and wondered why that sentence had popped out of his mouth. He normally held such thoughts inside, unless he was speaking with his Librarian. The Dursleys did not care to hear such things. He wondered vaguely if his aunt wouldn’t mind so much now. She had been suddenly so kind to him in some ways. “Where’s Aunt Petunia?” he asked. “And what time is it?”

“It is the morning after your surgery, young man, and it is half six. I assume your aunt is at home. If you are feeling up to it, you may have a very small, soft breakfast. How about some more juice, and a bit of toast? A few visitors are coming to talk to you soon,” Nurse Beth said quietly. Harry looked to the side to see if anyone was in the room with him. It was just an empty bed, and he was surprised to feel relieved.

“Who?” he asked.

“First, your surgeon, Ms. Shayani, and Dr. Jones, who was covering A&E yesterday, will be here shortly take a look at you while they are on their rounds, and then the social worker will come later in the morning.” Beth brought a tray table over the bed, where there sat a tray with apple juice (something Harry never got to drink at the Dursleys), a cup of water, toast, and a dish of strawberry jelly. She showed him how to move his bed up a bit, and then gave him the apple juice that was in a covered cup with a straw. “I thought, since you’re still recovering from yesterday, that this would be easier for you to handle,” Beth said. “You will also need to start drinking more water.”

Harry managed to eat the jelly (it was so cool on his sore throat – Nurse Beth had explained that they’d had to put a tube down his throat during surgery), and then ate half of his toast, taking very small bites, followed by water, also with a straw. That was about all he could manage. He laid back on his pillow, fed, and now curious.

“Nurse Beth, was the surgery on my leg? Is it fixed? I don’t feel so much pain anymore. Not like yesterday. I was in quite a precarious position, I think,” Harry said, using a favorite word. He remembered being in his cupboard, in so much pain that he kept passing out, and that Aunt Petunia had given him pain medicine. And then it came to him how he’d gotten into this trouble. “Uncle Vernon,” he whispered, staring back up at the ceiling. Beth overheard him but said nothing.

“Ms. Shayani and Dr. Jones will be in soon see you. Perhaps they will tell you more.” Beth said after a few moments of silence, taking the tray from the table. She lowered his head back a bit and told him to relax. Despite the fact he was still tired and still feverish, he wanted a book. He needed to go on a vacation in his mind. Now.

“May I have a book?” he asked, as he looked across at Nurse Beth, who was writing notes in a chart at her desk. “Any book, just about, would be fine. I am an excellent reader. But don’t tell my uncle that. He will-” Harry stopped talking. He should not share anything more about this. Beth looked up at him then, meeting his eyes.

“What will he do, Harry?” she asked softly. Harry tried not to cry but failed. He hadn’t really cried since he was small and didn’t know why or how he was crying. It, in fact, surprised him.

“He would lock me in my cupboard, not give me food, take away any books I have, and maybe also -” Harry whispered and stopped again. He didn’t know if it was safe to say this out loud, but he felt relatively safe with Nurse Beth right now. In a soft whisper, he said, “Try to take running away from me. With a shovel.” He gasped and cried again. Beth handed him a few tissues, and he wiped his nose. She slowly went back to finishing her notes. Harry suddenly became very calm. Eerily calm for a 10-year-old boy, Beth thought. She looked up from her notes in time to notice her young, dark haired patient push the wheeled tray table away from himself.

“Harry,” she began to say, but Harry already gazed down at the space where his left leg used to be.

“That’s why it feels better,” Harry whispered, his green eyes widening in shock behind his glasses. Just then Ms. Shayani and Dr. Jones entered the room. Harry looked up and stared at the newcomers, traces of tears on his cheeks. Dr. Jones picked up Harry’s chart, and started reading through it. Ms. Shayani, whom Harry remembered vaguely was the surgeon, held out her hand to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I am Taraneh Shayani, your surgeon,” she said gently. “It’s nice to meet you. May I call you Harry?” Harry took her hand, shook it briefly, and gave his consent.

“Dr. Mark Jones,” said the rather short man who still had the chart in hand. “You were my patient in A & E yesterday. You look much better this morning.”

“Mr. Potter, how much do you remember about what happened to your leg?” Ms. Shayani asked. Harry had trouble getting his mouth to open again. He tried working his tongue and realized his mouth had again gone dry. Ms. Shayani noticed and reached for a cup of water from the bedside table. She handed it to him. He sipped and realized that nobody ever asked him questions about himself, except for his Librarian. He was not sure what he was supposed to say as he was so accustomed to hiding things. Finally, he opened his mouth.

“I did something I wasn’t supposed to. It was an accident,” Harry barely whispered out fear and not knowing who could hear. “I . . . he hit me with a shovel, again and again. I think he really just wanted to hurt me, to stop me from running away, but not kill me.” He looked up at the surgeon and the physician. “He almost killed me, didn’t he? Because I’m a freak.”

Ms. Shayani glanced at Dr. Jones, who shrugged, and then she said, “If we hadn’t amputated your leg in time, you would have died, yes,” she said. She picked up Harry’s hand. She felt as if she needed to tell Harry the whole truth, and there was something about this boy that made her feel compelled to do so. “Most likely by last evening. It was bad, Harry. It was wet gangrene, which moves quickly. Fortunately, these antibiotics are working very well for you. Dr. Jones started them immediately. They prevented the infection from going any further in your blood stream. And no, you are most definitely not a freak, young man.”

You don’t know what I did, he thought. Trying to relax a little, Harry realized he had some questions. He had so many questions, but he wasn’t sure which one he should ask, if he could ask. He lifted his green eyes to meet Ms. Shayani’s hazel eyes, requesting more from her. He had to know.

“If I’d come to hospital sooner, would you’ve been able to fix my leg?”

Ms. Shayani sighed and gripped his hand harder. Dr. Jones looked uneasy as he had seen Harry’s leg when Harry had first arrived. They had snapped a few photos of it, and of his other bruising.

“I don’t know, Harry. The injuries to your lower leg were quite severe. It would have been very difficult for you to walk again if I’d attempted to save it, before the gangrene.”
“Please tell me everything, please,” Harry said. “I need to know. I know my Achilles tendon was bad.” Ms. Shayani gave Dr. Jones a look that meant ‘tell him.’ He shrugged and began.

“Harry,” Dr. Jones said. “When you arrived at hospital, your Achilles tendon was ripped to shreds, muscle and fat tissue was missing from your calf. Your leg and ankle bones were nearly crushed – too many fractures to count. And then treatment was delayed and the gangrene developed in addition to another developing infection. You are honestly very lucky to be alive and doing so well at this time. You must have amazing pain tolerance, young man. You never went into shock, either.”

“Thanks. Er, it’s good it’s gone then, I guess,” Harry said tiredly. “Will I get a prosthetic leg?”

“In several weeks,” Dr. Jones said. “It needs time to heal.” Ms. Shayani squeezed his hand again in reassurance.

Dr. Jones continued, “We needed to make sure we had all the infection first. Ms. Shayani had to take your leg above your knee because there was some damage there, also, but most importantly, the infection had reached your knee. We had to prevent it from going any further.”

“It may make walking with a prosthesis more difficult, without your knee,” Ms. Shayani said quietly but honestly. “I’m sorry.” Harry was still outwardly, but it soon became obvious to the physicians that he was quietly wheezing. He had been holding his breath a bit in anxiety, and now he was starting to have an asthma attack. Dr. Jones waved to Beth and whispered to her. She quickly set up a breathing treatment and looped the mask around his head.

“I will be around again soon,” said Ms. Shayani, “to check on you, Harry. I like to keep an eye on my patients.” She waved as she left.

“I will order a consult about the probable asthma,” Dr. Jones said, making more notes in the chart the before leaving the room.

Harry just concentrated on breathing the medication in and closed his eyes. He could not believe his leg was gone. Really, he had sort of known, sort of remembered, but he had thought maybe it was just a long nightmare. He was also panicked about going back to Number 4 Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon was there. Uncle Vernon did this to him. Tears ran from his eyes. No matter how nice Aunt Petunia suddenly seemed, he was NOT going back there.

Harry wanted to sleep as his breathing eased up, but the medication in his breathing treatment mask made him feel jumpy. It was as if his brain was working faster, too. Maybe he was just getting more oxygen to his brain. Ah, that thought sounded more like himself. He opened his eyes again and Beth was standing next to him, a smile gently on her face.

“Are you feeling a bit better, Harry?” She touched his cheek with a tissue here and there after she removed the mask. He nodded. She offered him some more water, which he gratefully drank.

A woman with brown short hair bobbing about her face and kind hazel-green eyes, peaked her head around the corner a short time later.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Yes,” Beth replied, as she took the cup from Harry’s hand. Harry quickly remembered a social worker was coming. He realized that he would probably have to tell the whole story eventually. He didn’t want to lie, because he never wanted to go back to Uncle Vernon. Uncle Vernon would surely kill him next time, especially if he talked now, instead of lying like usual. Uncle Vernon had threatened him many times, in all the years he could remember, that he should never tell anyone what happened at home. He bit his lip. He had mentioned some things already. Maybe the hospital would keep him safe.

“Hello, Harry. My name is Tina Shayani, and I am a social worker. You may call me Ms. Tina. Do you know what I do?”

“You talk to kids to make sure they’re alright?” One had tried to talk to him at school, but at the time, things hadn’t been so bad at home, so he had just lied very effectively.

“Yes, that is one of the many things I do,” Ms. Tina said.

“Do you know my surgeon, Ms. Shayani?” Harry asked.

“She’s my older sister,” Ms. Tina said with a smile.

“Oh,” Harry said. “You look alike.”

“Many people ask,” Ms. Tina said, grinning. “So, Harry, I need to ask you some questions, after I make a quick phone call. Do you think you may be able to do this now?” Harry nodded. She hurried out to the desk and made her phone call. She pulled a chair to Harry’s bedside, after replacing the phone on the cradle. “Two police officers are coming up so they can hear what you have to say, also. We may want to record your answers.”

“Alright,” he said. He needed to be brave, just like the kids in books.

“I am going to make some written notes of your answers as well. We are trying to keep you safe.” He thought about it and nodded. Whatever might prevent him from getting near Uncle Vernon again, he would do. He watched Ms. Tina pull a cassette recorder from her bag. As she was setting it up, Nurse Beth escorted the police to Harry’s bed.

“How do you do, young man?” the police asked politely. “We understand that your uncle may have tried to kill you?” Harry was surprised to hear police talking about it like that.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I do think he tried to kill me. He’d been rather mean before, though, but never did something like this.”

“Will you be willing to make a statement about this?” the taller of the officers asked. Harry nodded much more willingly now. He felt his bravery surging.

“We will allow your statements to be recorded, and admit it to evidence,” the shorter police officer said. Ms. Tina started the recorder. Harry opened his mouth and began to talk. After a bit of struggle at the beginning, trying to make sense of how to tell it, he talked about everything, from his parents’ death in a car crash and his survival (the scar on his forehead) to his general neglect and abuse by his relatives to the shovel (although he left Dudley’s purple hair out of the story. He honestly had no idea how to explain that.) It came pouring out of him. Tina listened to him fully as she recognized this was difficult for him, and very little had honestly surprised her after ten years in this position, but she had still felt rather ill when she had read of the condition of Harry’s leg before surgery, and viewed the photos that had been taken. His leg had been particularly gruesome.

“Will I have to talk about this again? I don’t want to talk about it again, if I don’t have to,” Harry said anxiously, when he was finished, and follow-up questions had been asked.

“I can’t promise that, Harry. I am sorry,” Ms. Tina said patting his hand. A nod from the tall police officer is confirmed this.

“Oh.” Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Had he done the wrong thing?

“Will I have to go back there again? They won’t like me like this. They already didn’t like me. Uncle Vernon already thinks I’m a freak, and I never do my chores well enough.”

“Shhh. I will try my hardest to make certain that you are safe. No one should go through what you have been through, koochooloo joon.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked as his eyelids started to get heavy with sleep. As he closed his eyes, Ms. Tina whispered,

“It means ‘dear little one’ in Persian. You are not a freak, Harry. You are dear, a dear little one, and you deserve to be treated that way.” Harry drifted off to sleep with that thought in his head. He did not notice Ms. Tina and the police leave.

While Harry slept, Tina talked with the police and showed them Harry’s file and photos. They asked for a copy so they could get the ball rolling legally. Shortly after the police went on their way, she told Beth that she was going to let the front desk know that Harry’s aunt was not to come in today to see Harry, if she showed. Tina hoped to talk to Petunia Dursley to get her take of the events and see if charges would need to be pressed against her as well as Vernon Dursley. Mr. Dursley had attacked his nephew with a shovel, although rather amazingly only one leg rather than both. Why? Tina was sure that he had tried NOT to kill Harry directly, to avoid trouble. Harry had almost died, anyway, so this would back up the case substantially for child abuse, and possibly attempted manslaughter.

Back in her office a half hour later, she received a call from the front desk. Petunia Dursley had arrived. A security guard was waiting with her in a small family conference room. Tina could hear the woman demanding to know why she couldn’t see her nephew that moment. It was another day of deep breathing and sighs. She was mostly likely going to have to find someone to take temporary guardianship of Harry, as records indicated that the Dursleys were Harry’s only known living relatives. Fortunately, she had a wonderful idea, and the couple she had in mind had recently applied and were accepted as foster parents for an older child. First, she needed to speak with Mrs. Dursley, and see if she could get a better picture of what might be going on in the Dursley home.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Rice, etcetera

Harry nearly slept through to the next morning after his meeting with Ms. Tina and the police. He awoke with a start from an intense dream that faded the moment he opened his eyes. He vaguely remembered being woken periodically to cough, to prevent pneumonia and such, during the night. A different nurse had been there.

“You needed the sleep, Harry,” Beth said coming over to him. “How do you feel?”

“Better, I think,” Harry said. He was hungry, and there was a tray of breakfast waiting. The scents of it wafted towards his nose. There was bacon, and he wouldn’t have to fight for it.

“Your fever is down. Do you need to go to the toilet? I removed your catheter a bit ago, and you slept through it.”

“Oh, that’s why,” Harry said, nodding to himself. “Yes, I could use the loo. How do I get there?”

“The physiotherapist was here earlier. He is just down the hall checking on his other patients. He’ll be here again soon, to show you how,” Beth said briskly. “How about you get started on your breakfast? We need to improve your nutrition. You also need to eat for the pain meds we’re giving you.”

With that, Beth raised the head of his bed so that he was sitting up, and he caught sight of the remainder of his leg again. In moments, his mind felt separated from his body for a few seconds. How is this even real? Less real than turning Dudley’s hair purple. Uncle Vernon almost killed me. Harry tried to take a deep breath and hold it as his thoughts flashed through his mind too quickly. He was able to take a breath and let it out slowly. He had been able to do such calming techniques in the past and thought now would be a good time to try them again. He closed his eyes.

“Harry?” Beth asked. He opened his eyes quickly.

“I’m awake. Just calming down” he said anxiously, his eyes popping open immediately.

“Here’s your breakfast. Please eat at much as you possibly can, while we’re waiting,” she said. Harry dug into his food, still vaguely wondering if this was all real, but he kept telling himself that it was. While he ate, Beth added some bags to his IV. Would he be able to go to the loo with the IV pump?

Harry had just finished his meal when the physiotherapist entered the room. Harry looked at the physio, and decided he seemed to be about Uncle Vernon’s age, perhaps. However, he did not look at all like Uncle Vernon (much slimmer and no mustache), so maybe this guy would be okay.

“Hello, Harry, mate. I’m Ben, physiotherapist,” he said with a smile, offering his hand, which Harry shook. “I will start out coming to you for a few days, but then you’ll start coming to the PT room. It’s loads more fun. But first, we need to get you moving!” He held up the forearm crutches he had been holding at his side. “Sometimes I start my patients with a walker, but I think these crutches will be better suited for you.”

“I’m going to get up? Now? I don’t know, sir. Isn’t it too soon?” Harry said. He could feel his eyes growing wider behind his glasses. He didn’t really know what to think about this. He had thought maybe he would be carried and set on the toilet like Aunt Petunia had done for him only two mornings ago.

“We need to get you up and moving as soon as possible, otherwise it will be more difficult later,” Ben said. “And it is fine now to move your residual limb. How’s your pain overall?”

“It’s not bad,” Harry replied. “Residual limb is the rest of my leg, right?” Harry’s book knowledge came in handy here, even though at the Dursley’s, too much knowledge meant punishment. Here, he was starting to feel a bit safe to share that he was smart and knowledgeable. They didn’t think he was a freak.

“Yeah, Harry, that’s right,” Ben replied and flashed Harry a smile.

“I’ve read some books,” Harry said as Ben help him sit all the way up on the left side of his bed. He felt a passing lightheadedness. Beth brought the cup of water over for him to sip for a moment.

“It seems that you love to learn,” Ben said, as he looked over the dressings on Harry’s residual limb.

“I do, but I get in trouble if I do better in school than Dudley.” Harry’s voice trailed off into a whisper. He hasn’t meant to say that aloud. Again.

“Well,” Ben said looking up kindly at Harry, “you needn’t worry about that just now. Your incision looks good, and Beth told me your temperature is already down to normal. That’s incredible! I can wrap your leg now. This is important to allow it to heal well and in a good shape for your prosthetic leg. You will need to leave the wrap on.”

Harry watched, incredibly interested in what was happening to his leg, in spite of himself. Part of his mind was telling him that he should be angry, but the rest of his brain, the curious student, wanted to know everything.

“When will I get my new leg?” he asked.

“I think we can get you measured in about five weeks, perhaps. Meanwhile, let’s get you up on these crutches,” Ben said, finishing up the elastic bandages that went up to just short of Harry’s hip. With Ben on one side and Beth on the other, he reached with his foot to the floor. They help him stand on his remaining leg very slowly. The water must have helped his lightheadedness. He felt fine, except for the sensation of blood rushing to his residual limb. Despite some pain, Harry snorted a laugh as he remembered. Stump, it was usually called a stump in books. He disliked that word, and no one would use it around him. The adults glanced at him.

“All right, Harry?” Beth asked. Harry nodded. Ben told Harry to put his hand through the cuff of the crutch, and then gave him the second one. Harry had his fingers wrapped around the handles as fast as possible. He was excited to be up, and he really did need the loo badly now.

“Looks as if I measured correctly,” Ben commented, stepping back to study how Harry was standing. “You need the loo, don’t you, young man? Let’s go. Ever use crutches before?” Harry shook his head, although in his mind he thought immediately of the times they might have been helpful in recovering from injuries in the past, particularly his left hip. Ben, whom Harry was really starting to like, demonstrated to Harry how to swing his intact leg through. Harry enthusiastically followed his instructions and got into it as quickly as his pain and IV allowed him.

Beth helped him a bit in the loo. There were bars around the toilet so that he could mostly help himself. Beth assured him that she was there just in case and to help him with his IV line. At first he wasn’t sure about this, but he realized it was because this was a hospital and she must keep him safe, and he was new to this amputation situation. His balance was different. He knew that he had to get used to it, heal more, and then he would be able to go really fast on the crutches. A smile even ghosted across this face briefly at the thought. The adults were pleased to see the 10-year-old looking somewhat happy. They liked this kid. Beth suddenly remembered Harry’s request from the previous morning. He had wanted something to read. After getting Harry settled back in bed, Beth told him she would be back in 10 minutes. She had a book in her locker that she had finished re-reading the week before. It was one of her personal favorites.

“Harry, have you read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, before?” she asked as she dropped the heavy paperback into Harry’s waiting hands. He looked up at her and smiled gratefully.

“Half the first. That’s all I had time for in the school library, and then someone else checked it out and took it home,” he said.

“This one is so large because it contains all three books,” Beth said, bringing up the table over Harry’s lap again. She placed the book on the table. Harry casually murmured his thanks. He would start again from the beginning. He needed to get away for a little while.

Harry put his book down when Lydia, the evening nurse, suggested that he should eat his supper. Lydia pulled his table over to him, and set a tray containing chicken, rice and some vegetables in front of him. Harry cut up his chicken and began to eat eagerly. It was so good! In books, hospital food always tasted terrible to the characters, but he was so hungry, he gulped it down, and drank another cup of water. He wondered how they made the chicken and rice. There was definitely salt, and he quite liked it.
When Lydia came to retrieve his tray, he mentioned that he needed to go to the loo once more. She accompanied him the bathroom guiding his iv pump after she helped him off the bed. She waited outside the door while he did his business. It was so tiring just going to the bathroom, and while he liked being permitted to get up on his crutches again to do so, he was tired. Slowly he swung himself over to his bed, Lydia right next to him to keep him safe. As she tucked him in, he realized that this was a new feeling. Except for the library times with his Librarian, he had never felt so safe before.

LLLL

Tina Shayani arrived at her sister’s house at seven in the evening a few nights later. She had made plans to eat with her sister and her brother in law earlier in the day. She carried a few containers filled with homemade joujeh kabob, dill rice, and some aash soup she had prepared the day before. Her brother in law, Tim (yes, her sister married someone with a T name as well), let her in and took some things from her full arms. After the food had been set down on the table and they had hugged their greetings, Tina stepped back, and looked at Tim. Her brother-in-law looked utterly exhausted. It had been a long day at his dental practice. Tina also knew he was tired because his daughter was still in hospital. They were all looking forward to her release soon.

“Take a break, Tim,” Tina said. “I’ll reheat the food and set the table. When Tara comes home, I have an idea to run past you both.” She set to work. She loved feeding people, and she would just love to feed young Harry, too. He was entirely too thin, nearly skin and bones. According to his bloodwork, he was malnourished. She was still amazed the young boy had survived his ordeal. She had seen him that morning, eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and milk enthusiastically at the hospital. She resolved to drop off some fruit for him to eat as snacks between meals. She would ask what fruits he liked most.

About 20 minutes later, Taraneh slogged through the door, obviously exhausted.

“Tarajoon, you’re home!”, Tina said from her position at the stove, stirring the soup. She stepped away to kiss her sister in greeting.

“The food smells divine! Mersi, Tinajoon. Two major surgeries today. I hardly had enough time to visit with Hermione. I didn’t get a chance to pop into young Mr. Potter’s room to say hello. I wanted to, but then I was needed for an emergency consult and surgery. Hello, Tim, joon,” she said as her husband came forward to give her a kiss.

After the three of them sat down at the dining table, they helped themselves to the wonderful food. Tina found herself missing her usual dinner partner, her niece, again. After several weeks in hospital, her niece would be released next week. She could hardly wait! After they were finished eating, they all helped to clear the table, and put the extra food away. They then sat back down at the table with hot cups of tea. Tina pulled out some notes she had made, taking a deep breath.

“Tara, Tim, I want to talk to you both about something very important, and you may want to ask Hermione’s opinion on this as well. You know something about the situation, Tara, but I don’t know how much you’ve told Tim. This is about Mr. Potter, the boy whose leg Tara had to amputate last week. Harry is doing much better physically. He will still be on IV antibiotics at least another week to be sure any and all infections are taken care of. He is eating well, although he arrived at the hospital moderately malnourished. He has been getting around a bit with crutches. He seems happier in hospital than he was at his home. Tara, you know that he was beaten by his uncle in the back garden of the home, with a shovel.”

Tim hadn’t heard this part before and was shocked. He and Taraneh had always wanted at least one more child, but after three miscarriages, they had given up. How could some – monster – do this to a child? he thought in a daze. Children were a blessing, difficult sometimes, but a blessing. Tara put her hand on his in comfort. She had been thinking the same.

Tina continued, “Harry was left to lay outdoors unconscious and bleeding for a few hours before his aunt got him inside to his cupboard! Not his room, his cupboard. It is a very small space with a small bed and spiders, and Harry grew up in there. That was where he was locked in, had food withheld from him, and suffered through injuries that would somehow heal eventually. Harry has an extremely high pain tolerance, perhaps because he had to learn how to get through life with his relatives. Last week, Harry was shut in the cupboard again, but this time with injuries that he could not heal from fast enough.”

Tina paused to look at Tim as he did not know much of this story. “Tara saw the leg after Harry’s aunt finally brought him to hospital the next morning. Wet gangrene had already developed, and a strep infection, besides multiple bone fractures and deep cuts. The growth plates in his knee and ankle would have been unrepairable. He’s 10 years old, and he’s fairly petite for his age, probably due to malnutrition. He has a lot of healing, eating, and growing to do.” Tim looked as if he would be sick at any moment, but Tina asked anyway. “Tim, do you wish to see a photo of Harry’s leg before surgery?”

Tim closed his eyelids for a few moments. He really, REALLY did not want to see the photo, but finally, he said, “I reckon I should.” As Tina pushed it close, Tim glanced at it and winced, his face paling. He struggled not to be sick. He saw some things in his work as a dentist, but nothing like this.

“I interviewed his aunt. She insists that long ago, she was told Harry must always live with her for protection. She refused to name who said this and why. She also said that her husband does not like Harry and has a lot of problems with Harry being in the house at all. Mrs. Dursley admitted that she has been rarely kind to Harry, because her sister ran off and married ‘the wrong sort of man.’ Harry has told me a few times, that they, including Harry’s same age cousin, have called him ‘freak’. Harry is scared to death at the moment of having to go back to the Dursley house at all because they value normalcy and he feels that without his leg, he will be even more ‘freaky.’ He is afraid his uncle will hurt him even worse for this. He is mostly scared of his uncle, because his aunt did attempt to help him. She was afraid of her husband’s abusive tendencies, mostly. She has expressed interest in trying to re-establish a kinder relationship with her nephew.”

“That said, I do not feel it is in Harry’s best interests to return to live with his aunt and uncle at this time. He may make the choice if he wishes to talk with them again. I am looking for a family to take temporary custody of Harry until the ‘home’ situation is fully investigated and we will see what happens at the trial. That’s where you come in. You have already been accepted as foster parents. I know you performed his surgery, Tara, but I also know you care about him already. He won’t be ready to leave the hospital for a bit. Think about it. You have an extra bedroom. I think he’d get along well with Hermione. He likes the rice he eats at hospital,” she finished with a laugh.

Taraneh was crying already, happy tears. She’d always wanted a little boy for her second child. Due to their careers, they had decided against trying to adopt a baby, but an older child who needed a loving home. Tim leaned over to give her another kiss, although he still looked a bit nauseated from the story he had just heard. He dealt with all sorts of dental emergencies . . . he normally had a strong stomach, but this was beyond the pale.

“Undoubtedly, yes,” Tara said, giving her husband and then her sister a hug.

“It won’t be easy, you know,” Tina said. “Particularly the emotional issues. He is very good at burying it inside himself. He can appear strong, but he is dealing with, well, too much.”

“We’ll help him deal with it, and we’ll show him that some adults can behave themselves,” Tim said. Tina hugged Tim in response.

“Do you want to ask Hermione her opinion first? If not, I have some of the paperwork ready to sign now.” She had already consulted an attorney and a judge, based on the statements from Harry to herself and the police, his aunt, hospital staff, and others, and had gotten a stay on Harry’s legal guardianship, pending some else to take it.

“I’m sure Hermione will love it,” Tim said, and Taraneh nodded in agreement.

“When we get him home, we will fill him up on good Persian food. We’ll show him that good Polo puts hospital rice to shame,” Taraneh stated happily. “And I’ll be able to really take care of him. Yes, I can perform surgery all day, and I love being able to do that, but this is different.”

“Whilst I,” Tim said dramatically, “shall care for his dental needs!” He looked over at his sister-in-law. “Do his teeth look fine?” Tina laughed.

“I think they look wonderful, which is amazing, considering his past,” she replied.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Conversation with Hermione

Harry woke up on the eighth day after his surgery feeling the best he had so far. Yes, his residual limb hurt a bit, but he was still getting pain medication for it. He still had IV access for his antibiotics, but he no longer needed to be hooked up to them all the time. His asthma had been diagnosed by a specialist after several tests, and now he had a daily prescription he must take as well as a new inhaler. And they were trusting him to go to the loo by himself now. He had always been self-sufficient because he had needed to be, and now he didn’t have to be quite so much, but he did enjoy his privacy in the loo. He had finished the first Lord of the Rings book and was about a half into the second. He was so thankful Nurse Beth had loaned it to him. She had brought a few more books she thought he might like and told him he could keep them because she liked to pass around books.

Harry ate his breakfast of toast, jam, eggs, and bacon. These were his favorites, and he rarely got enough of any of these at the Dursley’s, particularly if Dudley decided he was still hungry. After a large glass of water, he pushed away the tray table and got himself to the side of his bed. He knew he should wait for his next bag of antibiotics, but perhaps he could sneak out. He knew that there were other kids here, and he was feeling adventurous. Checking over his clothing, he thought he looked fine. He was wearing a hospital gown, but he was also wearing a pair of black track bottoms with one leg pinned up so he wouldn’t get tangled up in it. (Tina had a small fund for purchasing some clothes for him. He had never had new clothes before!) He retrieved his crutches and slid off the side of the bed. He decided to make a break for it, moving quickly to reach the door. He balanced on one crutch to open it, and fortunately for him, the door was not heavy, as some doors are apt to be. He had only had experience with the bathroom door, but this proved to be similar, and got himself out with no injury or incident.

He set off down the hall the hallway, as quietly as he could. He was not sure if he should just go knock on a door to see if someone was in or not, or well enough to talk.

Four doors down from his own, a door opened with a bang against the wall. He stopped and stood nearby. Maybe this was someone he could talk to?
A girl with long dark, curly hair (not quite as messy as Harry’s) stepped out with a walking stick. He thought she might be his age. She grinned at him, held out her hand, and said,

“I’m Hermione Granger, and you must be Harry,” she said. Harry balanced and shook her hand. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“How do you know who I am?” Harry asked anxiously, his brows furrowing. He didn’t think that any of the other patients here would know his name.

“Let’s find a private place to talk. The playroom is right over here,” Hermione suggested, waving her unoccupied hand down the hall to another door.

“Er, playroom?” Harry knew he should be in his room so Beth wouldn’t be looking for him for his medication, but he’d wanted out of his room, right?
Hermione led the way just two more doors down the hall. There were a few shelves scattered with picture books and toys. There was also a couch onto which Harry let himself fall backwards. He was already tired from his longest walk since the surgery.

“So,” Hermione began, “I hear you may be coming to my house to live.”

“What? I don’t know you. I know Ms. Tina said she would look for someplace for me to live, but why yours?” Harry said.

“She is my Aunt Tina, and she’s my favorite aunt. She comes over and brings food to our house all the time, and then we chat together. She loves to talk about books with me, music, and other interests I have. She teaches me Farsi. That’s Persian language. My middle name is Darya, which means ‘sea’ or ‘ocean.’ I love learning. Do you love learning?”

He blinked at her, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “Yeah, er, I do like learning. Are you Ms. Shayani’s daughter? My surgeon, who did this?” he pointed at his residual limb.

“Yes. She goes by her own surname,” Hermione said. “She is an excellent surgeon. My mum didn’t operate on me, when my accident happened. She brought in a colleague of hers from another hospital because she was just too nervous to do it, and it would be a conflict for her to make the decisions. I had several broken bones in my legs. They are mostly healed now, and I am leaving in a few days. My mum said your leg was so badly injured, she couldn’t fix it.”

Harry blinked again. This girl talked very fast.

“Y-Yes,” he said. “Did you say I am going to live with you?” He was trying to piece this all together, but his mind was suddenly overwhelmed. He had lived with the Dursleys since he was 15 months old. He was not always happy, but he knew how things worked there, even if they weren’t particularly nice people. Aunt Petunia had not come back to visit, but Ms. Tina said it was because there was a temporary restraining order against her, just until the investigation was over. Uncle Vernon had been arrested on charges for abuse and attempted manslaughter.

“Yes! I’ve always wanted a brother!” Hermione proclaimed. “Mum and Dad are going to paint the extra bedroom and then let you decorate it the way you like.”

“My own bedroom?” he asked rather faintly from the sheer idea of it.

“Yes. Aunt Tina told Mum and Dad about you, and that you need a guardian. They said yes, of course. When you leave the hospital, you’ll come to our house. It is only a few streets away. We will come back for physiotherapy. I still need it for a while longer,” she said. “I am sure you’ll get a prosthetic leg in a few more weeks, right?”

Harry shifted a bit on the couch, pushing himself more upright. “Yes,” he said. “Your mum is taking me in herself? She seems nice and kind,” Harry said softy.

“Thanks, Harry. She is very kind. She became a surgeon so she could help people have better lives. She’s very sad she couldn’t help you much,” Hermione said.

“She saved my life,” Harry said, staring at Hermione in confusion. “Of course, she helped me.”

“How? Was your leg that bad? Was it gangrene?” Hermione made her best educated guess.

“Yes, but I just can’t talk more about it just now,” Harry said, feeling sick again. “What happened to you?

“Well, I love to read. I read everything I can. I have an excellent memory,” Hermione became a bit distracted, because she also had a mind that could go in all directions at once. She was still wondering what exactly had happened to Harry, but she loved to talk. “I was going to the library one day after school, which I always did three days a week. I was on the walk about a block from the library when a car hit me from behind. The driver was impaired in some way. He jumped up the kerb. My parents are not sure they want me to have the details, but I will talk them into it eventually. As I’ve said, I had fractures, and soft tissue damage in both my legs. I am very lucky not to have gotten a head injury or spinal injury. I’ve just graduated from crutches like yours.”

She stopped to take a breath briefly before she continued. “Actually, I do still have them, for just in case. My right leg is the worst one. I wear this brace on it.” She pulled up her trouser leg to show him the brace that went from her foot to her thigh. “My mum wondered if it would be better to amputate it, but she let her surgeon friend decide. I hope you don’t mind, Harry, but I am rather glad that I got to keep it.”

Harry smiled at her. He liked this girl. He had never had anyone around him talk to him quite so much or so fast.

“I don’t mind too much. I’ll be fine. I love to read, too, you know, mostly fiction,” Harry said, now that he could get word in edgewise. “And I read nonfiction sometimes, like anatomy.” He glanced down again at his limb (what he had decided to call it as ‘stump’ just didn’t work for him.)

Hermione followed his look, and said, “Mum and Dad have told me they are making a few modifications to the house for us. Installing rails at the toilets and such.”
“Alright,” Harry said. “That’s very nice of them.” He was both excited and worried. He would be away from Uncle Vernon, but what would Hermione’s dad expect from him? Would he be kind, too, or more like Uncle Vernon? He ran his hand through his hair several times in his anxiety.

He heard the door open and looked up. It was his nurse, Beth, and she had an IV pole and pump with her.

“Time for your antibiotics, Harry,” she said. “The two of you can keep talking in here if you like. Let me know when you’re ready to go back to your room.” Hermione grinned at Harry. Harry was relieved. He thought he would have to go back to his own bed. Beth hooked the IV up, and then left the two with a smile.

“Is your dad nice?” Harry asked semi-casually when they were alone again.

“Oh, yes! He’s the best dad! He’s a dentist and is always reminding us that we shouldn’t eat too many sweets, but other than that, he is a lot of fun to be around. He loves to listen to music of all sorts. Do you like music, Harry?”

“Er, I haven’t heard much, really,” he mumbled in response. He hadn’t as the Dursleys did not even have a radio. All they had were the big television, and Dudley’s small one up in his room.

“We’ll have to fix that once you come home. We have a large collection of music and a new stereo Dad bought last year for his birthday,” Hermione said enthusiastically.

“That will fun,” Harry said, catching some of Hermione’s enthusiasm. “Your Dad doesn’t punish you when you use the stereo?”

“Uh, no,” Hermione said, puzzled. “Perhaps if I am playing music he might not care for, and he had a hard day at work, but even then he will ask me to turn it off for a while. No punishment.”

“Just like some parents in books,” Harry said with a sigh. “I know now that how I was treated at the Dursleys wasn’t normal, but they seemed to worship normality. And I didn’t fit.”

“That’s terrible! Mum and Dad didn’t tell me exactly why you will come home with us. They said you should tell me,” Hermione said, hoping she wasn’t being too forward in demanding an explanation. Harry set about giving a shortened explanation that he felt comfortable enough with. After he was done, Hermione gave him a hug. He didn’t flinch away from it as he was wont to do. He welcomed it briefly, needing the reassurance.

“Harry, I am going home in a few days, for good. I’ll be back for physio, though, alright? I will come see you afterwards. I will give you our phone number, so ring ifyou need to talk.”

“I will,” he said. He had not been permitted to use the phone at the Dursleys, but maybe someone would help him figure it out. They switched topics and talked about the books they had each read. After a while, Harry’s stomach rumbled. Hermione laughed with him.

“Want to eat lunch in here? Or we could go to your room. Beth will let me eat lunch with you,” Hermione said, again in a hurry. “I’ve known her for years. She and mum have both worked here about the same length of time, you know. They’re friends. Here, let me help you take your IV back to your room.”

“Are you sure, Hermione?” Harry asked. He was definitely willing and ready to go back to his bed by now. The antibiotics made him feel extra tired.

“Yes, Harry,” she said. “I’ve known Beth since I was five years old. We’ll be fine because you’re with me. She likes you, too, I can tell. Sometimes if she doesn’t like a patient, she’ll show it. Don’t mention this to her or Mum. I think it would embarrass them. I just notice these things.”

“Well, alright then,” he agreed, and got up, being mindful of the tubing hanging from his arm. As they were at the door to the playroom, Beth met them.

“Alright, Mr. Potter, I see what you’re doing. Trying to get away without me?” Beth said in a teasing voice, but Harry did not hear it that way.

“N-n-no, no. Hermione said that we should –“ Harry started to say, but Beth put a hand on his arm.

“Harry, I’m joking! Here, let me help. It will be so much easier if I disconnect the drip. Give me a moment,” Beth said.

After he was back in his bed, with the last of the IV bag dripping into his arm again, he idly listened to the nurse and Hermione talking to each other as Beth pulled a chair close to Harry’s bed for Hermione to take a seat. He wondered what was for lunch today, and then laughed at himself. He was certainly getting used to eating every day!

“Our food at home is so much better than hospital food,” Hermione commented. “You will have to try tachin-e morgh sometime. It’s one of my favorite Persian dishes, a much tastier version of chicken and rice.”

To Harry, it seemed a little too good to be true. He would just wait and see.

Chapter Text

(Note – I don’t own any of these characters or situations except some that are original to my story. I appreciate the opportunity to do this. Remember, it didn’t occur to me that I could write fanfic myself until six months ago!)

Chapter 6: The Chapter That Moves Time Along a Bit

Over the next few weeks, Harry finished with the IV antibiotics, had long physiotherapy sessions with Ben, chatted with Hermione following her physio (they mostly discussed books, and she supplied him with books she thought he’d like) since she had gone home, read said books voraciously, and ate. He ate a lot, in fact, which everyone seemed happy about. His bruising was gone. It was the best he’d felt in a long, long time, even without his leg. Sometimes he had phantom pain, but so far, it hadn’t been all that bad (thought the boy with incredibly high pain tolerance.) Miss Tina came to talk to him sometimes, Tara (as she had told Harry he may call her), Tim (who seemed nice, so Harry was not quite as frightened as when he had first heard the idea ), and a hospital psychologist once or twice. They wanted to make sure he was doing well emotionally. He wanted to tell them he was fine, but that he had no idea if he really was. He had bad dreams at night sometimes that woke him up. Sometimes he dreamed of his uncle’s attack. Sometimes he dreamed of missing other body parts. Sometimes he had nightmares of green light, and when he woke, the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead would hurt. Mostly, though, he felt safe for the first time in his life.

Nearly four weeks after he lost his leg and was left with his limb, he was told it was time to leave and go to Hermione’s house. The legalities had been taken care of and schedules set for when Harry would go back to the hospital for his therapy. It was decided that for now, Harry and Hermione would be tutored instead of finishing the school term. Harry would have needed to start at a new school, and he was very thankful that he need not do that yet. The tutor was able to work around their therapy sessions.
Harry had his schoolbag back. He had been informed that the Dursley house had been searched for evidence, and they were able to retrieve his bag. Miss Tina had also gotten him a large bag in which he could stow his new clothes, and now that he was being released, he carefully folded the additional clothes both she and Tara had purchased for Harry, once they had realized that Harry had so little. (They were appalled that all he had to wear was Dudley’s old clothing. If it had fit Harry and was in decent repair, that was one thing. This was another!) He was now wearing jeans that fit him properly, and a blue striped shirt. He had new pants, socks, and trainers. Tara had helped him pin up the left leg of his jeans after he had got on his clothes that morning. She had taken the day off to take him home.

Once his clothes were packed, he picked up his school bag to place some of the many books he had acquired, both from Beth and Hermione. When he opened the bag however, he saw THE book. It was the book he’d begun reading almost four weeks ago. His hand froze for a moment, and then trembled as he reached in. It was the book he’d been wanting to read that whole miserable evening. His green eyes sparked in anger, and he pulled the book roughly from the bag, hurling it as hard as he could across the room. It hit the wall and slid down. Still angry, he grabbed his crutches with rough movement, and went over to where the book lay open on the floor near the wall. He wanted to stomp on it. Tears were running down his face as he leaned on the wall so he could hit it with a crutch instead. He felt all sorts of energy flowing through him, anger and sadness. The book exploded into tiny shreds of paper.

He found himself on the floor against the wall a few minutes later, still holding his crutches tightly in his hands. The paper had settled down around him.

“Harry, are you packed? Tim would like to take your things to the -,” Taraneh said as she entered the room. “Oh, Harry joon, what happened?” She sat down next to him and put a hand on one of his clenched hands. He began to loosen is his grip on the crutches and then let them drop. Taraneh took his hand into hers and started massaging it.

“You are probably feeling life isn’t very fair right now, are you?” she said. He shook his head nearly imperceptibly.

“You have good reason to think it. I am not going to dismiss your feelings about this. You need to feel them. I can tell say we promise that in our home, we are going to help you. We hope to help you with your feelings and to show you what a good home life is about.” She paused, thinking carefully about what to say. “I can’t re-grow your leg, but we’ll make sure your PT continues, and we’ll try to get you a good prosthetic leg. I know it won’t be your original leg, and it’s all right to be angry about it.”

Harry sniffled and he opened his eyes. He looked at his new guardian with his teary green eyes, and asked imploringly, “Why did he do it, and why did he leave me to die?”

“Oh, Harry, I can’t answer that question, but I can give you a hug. Are you alright with that?” Taraneh asked. He gradually relaxed into it, some of the tension leaving his thin body for a short time. Being hugged still felt alien to him, and Taraneh was aware of this. After she let him go, she began to get up, but as she did so, her eyes were caught by Harry’s crutches. They had been silver in color. Now, they had large streaks of bright red running all the way through. How had that happened? And where had all the bits of paper come from? She remembered some of the times interesting things happened with her Hermione, but she had just brushed them off. Maybe around this age, kids have so much extra energy that they can make things happen? She decided not to say anything about it to Harry, so as not to worry him further. She held out her hands to help him up. After she handed him the crutches, she said, “Let’s go home.”

-Break-

Harry looked around his new bedroom with a great deal of awe. He had never had his own room before, besides the cramped cupboard, and this was amazing. The walls were a calming shade of blue, he noticed this right away, and then his eyes caught the bookcases. There were two whole bookcases just for him, and they were mostly empty! He could fill them up. There was a small wooden desk in the corner. A wardrobe stood against one wall. A real Persian carpet with shades of blue was on the floor. The best was the comfy looking bed with two thick pillows and a blue and white blanket that went with the room. Sunlight poured in the window. Next to the bed was a small bedside table, and on it was a small lamp and a digital clock. He moved closer to inspect it and saw that it was a clock radio. He let out a small noise as he sat down on the edge of the bed to look at it.

“What is it, Harry?” Taraneh asked. “Is everything all right in here for you?”

“All right? This is a radio,” Harry said, barely capable of speaking. “I’ve always wanted one of my own. I never got to listen to music.”

“Really?”

“Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn’t let me listen to the radio or let me watch the television. They thought it would distract me from my chores,” Harry explained.

“Here in this house,” Tim said, as he entered the room, “music is important. You may play the radio in here as much as you like, provided it is not too loud. If you don’t wish to be at the mercy of the radio, we have a stereo in the lounge that you may use. Hermione said she mentioned it. We have quite a collection of LPs, cassettes, and CDs. You are welcome to explore our collection if you like. You are part of this family now.”

“Seriously?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, seriously, mate,” Tim said reaching out to touch Harry’s shoulder lightly. Harry winced a bit but didn’t say anything. Tim knew that Harry still needed to get used to the idea of being touched in any way by a man, even in kindness.

“Come on then, let’s show you the rest of the house,” Tim said.

“Then you may come back to your room and unpack,” Taraneh added.

“Are there chores I must do?” Harry asked anxiously. “To earn my keep?” He thought he knew the answer to this, as they had talked this over at hospital already, but now his anxiety was speaking up loudly, and making him doubt what he remembered.

“Harry, remember, you will have a few chores to help the household, but we assure you that it will be nothing like the Dursleys,” Taraneh replied. “In fact, you don’t need to do anything today except unpack, rest, and enjoy yourself, all right? You may even take a bath if you’d like.”

A bath will be wonderful, Harry thought. Maybe he could even take a book to read in there. Baths at the Dursleys’ were rare.

-Break-

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Have you listened to all of this music before?” Harry asked in wonder, the next day, after they returned from their PT sessions. He sat on the floor, on another Persian rug, just below the stereo, looking at the shelves of music recordings.

“Probably most of it at some time or another,” Hermione replied, still looking at her book, although she had stopped reading for the moment. “Why?” she asked, looking up from her favorite spot on the couch.

“I don’t know what to start with,” he said, tracing a finger over the side corners of the record sleeves. There was a lot of music here to choose from.

“You know the Beatles, right?” Hermione asked, her eyes widening slightly.

“Well, I’ve heard of them, of course, but I really haven’t heard much of their music,” Harry said, looking at the floor. He flushed a bit in shame.

“We have some CDs of their music now, but you should really listen to the records. Mum tried to collect them all when she was young,” Hermione said. Harry found them on the shelf, and then asked which one he should listen to. Hermione advised him to pick either the Sgt. Pepper album or Magical Mystery Tour (as these were two of her personal favorites.) He decided on Sgt. Pepper because he found the cover fascinating. He pushed himself up on the chair next to the stereo and went about putting the record in place after he turned the stereo on. He switched on the turntable, and the music began. He moved himself back down to the rug, with his hands under his head, content to listen. Hermione continued to read her book.

“Which songs do you like the best from this album?” Hermione asked after the record had ended. Harry, who had also been daydreaming, shook his head to clear it and think.

“Lucy in the Skies with Diamonds and With a Little Help from my Friends,” he decided. “Lucy because it sounds like a nice dream and the other because I have friends now. I have you,” he said, almost wanting to cry. Where did this urge to cry keep coming from? He was never permitted to cry at the Dursleys. He’d had to wait for the privacy of his cupboard, and then only cry silently. Noise would just get him in trouble.

“Those are great choices, Harry,” Hermione said eagerly. “My favorite is A Day in the Life.”

“Oh, I do like that one, too,” Harry replied. “It’s a dramatic song to end the album with.”

“It is! You should really listen to their next album, Magical Mystery Tour. The first side is all right, but the second side is my favorite,” Hermione said.

“Tomorrow,” Harry said with a wide smile. “I want to think about this music for now. And were there really 4,000 holes in Blackburn, Lancashire?”

Hermione smiled back. “Certainly. I had to look this up at the library, but yes, there were 4,000 potholes in the roads of Blackburn,” she said earnestly. “I think the lyrics are quite clever. John Lennon really did use a newspaper to write this song, and it is sad that he died so young. He was a genius, you know. Mum was a fan of Paul’s back when she was young. I think John was more striking, but maybe because I like his genius. And did you know that Royal Albert Hall really can fit almost 4,000 people? Really. I’ve been there with Mum and Dad for Proms. Do you want to go? We usually -” Harry interrupted Hermione with a laugh. He did enjoy listening to her rambling on sometimes, but this tickled him.

“What? Oh. I was speaking too fast again, wasn't I?” She clapped a hand over her mouth. Harry laid back on the floor, laughing so hard he couldn’t respond. He had never laughed like this before. Hermione started giggling and slid down on the floor beside him.

-Break-

Tina arrived a week later bearing a pot containing the Adas Polo she had prepared. Yes, she wanted to check in on her niece, but especially wished to see how Harry was doing. Taraneh welcomed her into her home and took the polo from her.

“Harry helped me make some kabob to accompany this,” Taraneh said. “He honestly loves to cook. He doesn’t find it a chore and volunteers.” Tina smiled, happy that Harry seemed to be finding a place in his new home.

“How is everything going, generally?” Tina inquired, taking out plates to set the table.

“Fairly well. Harry has been listening to an album a day and reading. The tutor comes again on Monday. He has been working hard at physiotherapy and gets his prosthetic soon. He has been enjoying baths because he rarely got to take them in his old home. The only disturbing things are the nightmares. He wakes up screaming sometimes, and has difficulty settling back down,” Taraneh finished.

“Perhaps I can talk to him about that a little later,” Tina said. There was clunking sound from the doorway as Hermione stepped into the kitchen. She’d bumped her braced leg into the door frame.

“Aunt Tina!” she exclaimed, delighted to see her aunt. Tina moved to kiss her niece.

“Wonderful to see you, Mione joon,” Tina said. “Read anything interesting lately?”

“Oh, lots,” Hermione replied. She went on for a while about the most fascinating thing she had read recently and took her seat the table. Tina was thrilled to see how her niece was adjusting to the changes in her life. Presently, Hermione seemed to be doing well. Tina did not doubt that there would come a time when her niece would grieve for her leg and mobility. She had been a social worker for long enough that she could not doubt this, even though her niece was usually strong, resilient, and quite opinionated, though indeed also open-minded. They would have to wait and see.

Harry appeared in the kitchen just then. It looked like, as always, that he had tried to comb his hair, but it had a mind of its own. He was otherwise dressed neatly and carefully. He grinned shyly at Tina.

“Hello, Harry,” Tina said, going to meet him to give him a small hug, which he accepted. “I hear you made the kabob for tonight’s meal.”

“I like cooking,” Harry said with a shrug. “Persian food is really good. I can’t wait to try your Adas Polo.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Tina said. “I’m certain you’ll like it.”

Ten minutes later, Tim came down from upstairs where he had a small office and offered to carry the heavy platter of food to the table. As they all settled around the table, Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. There was an enormous amount of food on the platter. He had never seen that amount of food before all at once.

“Help yourself, Harry,” Tina said while handing him a spatula. He stared at her for a moment, and then sure it was okay, he tentatively took some of the rice with dates and lentils, some of the koobideh kabob he’d helped prepare, and some pieces of onion (he had learned the word for onions was piaz in Farsi.) Hermione passed him the bowl of plain yogurt so he could add some to his plate. He had already discovered that the yogurt tasted marvelous with good Persian basmati rice with saffron. Everyone around the table was chatting as they helped themselves to the tasty rice. Harry began eating, unable to resist the tantalizing scents of the food. No one minded as they all began as soon as they were ready. He wondered if this was like restaurant food. He’d never eaten at a restaurant before, and sometimes he wished he could. It could only improve his cooking, wouldn’t it, if he could taste other foods? There were only certain foods in the Dursley house, and there had been little variety for Harry to learn from.

“Harry?” Tim asked. Harry snapped out of his daydream, wondering if he had missed something.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, suddenly anxious, his eyes went wide. Tim chuckled and put a hand gently over Harry’s forearm to steady him.

“I was just asking what you did today besides prepare kabob?” Tim said. Harry was still not used to anyone truly taking an interest in him. It was still an odd sensation, and he hoped he could get used to it.

“I listened to U2’s Joshua Tree album,” Harry said. He had loved it, although ‘With or Without You’ had made him feel like crying. Everything made him feel like crying these days, or laughing. One or the other. He had never been so full of emotion before.

“You did? U2 is one of my favorite groups. Perhaps we could go to a concert together sometime if you’d like. They’re not on tour right now. A new album of theirs is to come out in November or December. Perhaps next year then? What do you think, mate?” Tim said.

“Really? That would be fun!” Harry could hardly believe that such an event could befall him. He hoped that nothing would happen to prevent him from seeing U2 live. Things seemed to happen to him, but for now, he was going to be very positive, he decided. “What album should I listen to next?”

-Break-

A few days after Harry had acquired his prosthetic leg, which he was none too happy with yet, Tina met Harry at the physio room as his session ended. (Hermione had more to finish up before Tina accompanied them home on her lunch break.) She had news that she must share with him, but she was not sure how he would take it. After Harry had said goodbye to Ben, they headed out the door, and sat together on a bench just outside the hospital as it was an unusually sunny, warm day.

“Harry, I have heard from your aunt. She has been working with police and social services since the incident. Your uncle is being held in jail whilst awaiting his court date. I don’t yet know if you will be asked to testify, to speak in front of the court. I am quite hopeful that the recording we made of your story will be permitted instead. Just be aware that you may need to appear in person.”

“All right,” Harry said rather unhappily. His anxiety was building at the thought about having to appear in court. “I don’t really want to.”

“I know, Harry. We’ll talk it over again as it gets closer. Meanwhile, your aunt wants to know if you would be willing to talk with her. I would be present, so you wouldn’t be alone with her.”

“I don’t know,” he said, sounding a little lost.

“It might help you to talk with her, perhaps ask a few questions,” Tina pointed out. She rather thought that it would help Harry. She knew that he was already a professional at the skill of compartmentalization, for such a young age, and that it might come back to haunt him in the future.

“Er, maybe?” he said. He thought a few more minutes, and then asked, “I won’t get in any more trouble, will I?”

“Certainly not, Harry,” Tina said.

“Alright, then,” Harry said. He was feeling very unsure about this.

Three days later, after his tutoring session and lunch, Tina arrived at the Granger home with Aunt Petunia following nervously behind. Hermione was off studying mathematics in her bedroom. Harry had been waiting in the kitchen, slowly drinking a glass of water. He had a science book in front of him, and was attempting to read it, but he was so nervous. He did not know what he should talk to Aunt Petunia about. It was making him a nervous wreck. He fiddled with his trousers, wondering if his prosthetic leg was visible or not through them. He wore trainers on both feet, which he was quite pleased about. Aunt Petunia knew his leg was to be amputated, he vaguely remembered, so she would know, but he was still nervous. The doorbell rang. He got up on his crutches, and went to the door to pull it open.

“Hello, Tina, Aunt Petunia,” he said in a very clear, calm voice, surprising himself. “Come in.” He noticed as they passed by him that Aunt Petunia’s eyes were slightly red. He closed the door and followed them to the kitchen. Tina had thought this would be the best place for this conversation and hurried to fix tea and a few sweets for the small group. Harry sat down, relieved to do so again as he just wanted to get this over with and then take the awful prosthetic off. It was not pleasant to wear. His aunt sat down across the table. She looked nervous, and suddenly Harry had little patience for this.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked quickly, drumming his fingers on the table.

“I want to tell you how sorry I am I didn’t do anything to stop Vernon,” she said softly.

“Why didn’t you? And why didn’t you stay after I lost my leg?” Harry asked.

“Vernon has never been completely predictable in the way he behaves. I was afraid he would hurt me next if I seemed out of line. You know how he is,” Petunia replied.

“Yeah,” murmured Harry. Then he asked, feeling rather defiant, “Did he ever remember what he did to me? It seemed like he didn’t seem to know. That morning.”

Aunt Petunia choked a little at this. She dabbed at her eyes. Finally she said, “Yes. It took him until the police came to remember. I am so sorry, Harry,” she said again. “I do think he really did put it out of his mind, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Harry echoed doubtfully. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked. He always cared about other people, even his aunt who was not always very nice to him.

“I don’t know. I am thinking of divorcing your uncle, but not entirely sure about that yet. I will have to find a job. Divorce isn’t normal in our neighborhood, but neither is having one’s husband arrested,” Aunt Petunia said.

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. “Is he sorry for what he did to me? That wasn’t normal, either.”

Tina stepped in as she placed a cup of tea in front of Harry. “Mrs. Dursley, how is your son?” she asked, saving Aunt Petunia from having to answer the previous question. Harry knew the answer to his own question. Of course, Uncle Vernon is only sorry for getting found out, for being arrested. He didn’t care what he did to me.

“Oh, he is having some trouble over this. Dudley was suspended from school for a week for beating up a classmate. He misses Harry,” Aunt Petunia said, grat0eful for the change of topic.

“No, Dudley doesn’t miss me,” Harry burst out. “He was beating on me all the time! Or having his gang beat me up when I couldn’t run fast enough. If he misses me, it’s because he can’t beat me again.”

“Dudley’s your cousin, Harry,” Aunt Petunia said. “I can’t see my darling boy doing that to you.”

“Aunt Petunia, of course he did. He pushed me down the stairs, remember? I couldn’t walk properly for weeks. And he’s one of the reasons I want to stay here,” Harry said. Just when he thought his aunt cared for him now, she said things like this. “Since you didn’t try to stop Uncle Vernon, why didn’t you call for an ambulance?”

“Harry, I was afraid of Vernon, and I am so sorry. And - and. . .the shock of seeing Dudley’s hair,” Petunia said with fresh tears. She cried for a few minutes, and then looked up from her handkerchief. “Harry, this looks like a nice house, and a nice place to live. I am supposed to be providing you protection, but I am beginning to see why don’t want to come back to live with us. I cannot tell you what I am providing protection from, exactly. You will be better protected from us here. I know I’ve failed. I know I have been awful to you. Can you forgive me?”

“Um,” was all Harry could say for a while.

“I understand if you can’t, Harry,” Petunia said, looking sad. “I would like to see you every so often, if you are willing? I will let you decide that. I’d like to start over.” Harry was honestly shocked by this offer.

“I . . . Let me think about it,” he said faintly. Part of him wanted to be loyal to his biological family, but another part of him want to scream every bad word he knew at her.

“Well, you let me know.”

“Hmm,” said Harry, noncommittally.

The court date was set for a week later. Harry was required to be present, but the court did not make him testify. Instead, the tape Tina had recorded was accepted as evidence provided Harry was there to swear that was his voice on the recording. He did so rather happily. He wished to see Uncle Vernon in prison for a long time.
Harry was partially granted his wish. Uncle Vernon received 15 years in prison for attempted manslaughter and was eligible for parole in 10 years. The laws were just beginning to change when it came to child abuse, so this was the best they could get for the moment.

--------
(Notes: I did do a fair amount of research, but I am a bad librarian . . . I did not keep a list of my references to attach here. My apologies.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Mysterious Ways

July 1991

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was in her office early. It was the day the yearly letters were to go out to all the students. She had a small stack on her desk intended for some incoming first year students. These were muggle-born witches and wizards who would just now discover that they were magical, and that magic was for real. She planned on visiting these students and their parents herself.

She waved her wand and a steaming teacup appeared at her right hand, along with a chocolate scone and cream. Just the right thing to begin her busy day. She had never told anyone, but it was quite honestly one of her favorite times of year. She knew she was normally perceived as stern and strict, but sharing in the joy that magic was real with some of these families made her feel happy and rather pleased. She sipped her tea, as a hint of a grin appeared on her lips.

After finishing her small breakfast, Minerva vanished the cup and plate, and picked up the envelopes, intending to plan her visits. She fingered the green ink the addresses were written in. The first was addressed to Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchley. The second was addressed to Ms. Hermione Granger. The third envelope was addressed to Mr. Harry Potter. She dropped them all as she gasped. She needed to remind herself to breathe as she so rarely lost her composure!

This meant Harry was no longer located where she had thought he had been living all these years, with the Dursleys on Privet Drive, where he would be safe from Voldemort and the Death Eaters with his aunt’s protection. In fact, he seemed to be living at the same address as Ms. Granger! Did Albus know about this? Most likely not. She wondered about her friend sometimes. Had he been checking in on Harry all these years or not? She had never liked the idea of Harry living with muggles who hated magic. Ms. Granger’s home should be the first stop this morning. Perhaps Harry really was there for some reason. Perhaps it was not a mistake. She wondered when Albus may have last checked on Harry’s welfare. She tried to brush off her annoyance with the man because she must prepare to leave. Mr. Finch-Fletchley and the others would have to wait until later.

-break-

It was the first of Taraneh’s two days off from work, seeing as how she would be covering the weekend on-call. She wanted to spend time with the children as well, but first she had some paperwork she needed to finish up. She planned to take Harry shopping for some more clothing. He had been eating well for the most part, and he had grown almost six centimetres already. He’d had his prosthetic leg for just about five weeks, but he didn’t seem happy about it. She wondered if he had already outgrown it somehow. He didn’t complain much to her about it verbally, but she saw he did not like it.

Harry and Hermione didn’t have physiotherapy that day, and they were taking the time to relax in the lounge. Hermione was on her favorite couch so that she could lay back and read in one of her favorite locations by the window looking out on the garden. Harry was sitting with a book on the big overstuffed chair next to the couch as it was his favorite spot. He didn’t even want to put any music on the stereo this morning. He had slept in, and just didn’t want to put his leg on this morning. It was not pleasant to wear. It hurt, and he couldn’t find his balance with it. And I don’t need to do all the housework so really don’t need my leg today! Yes, he had some assigned chores, but they were easy compared to the Dursleys. He felt like he was living in a good dream, however. He still could not believe he didn’t have to do all the work, and most of the time, he to remind himself that he had no need to compulsively clean, either. He was all caught up on his schoolwork for the tutor. And no PT today! It was nice to have a break.

The last two months here in this home had been wonderful so far. There was plenty to eat, Tara and Tim had tried to adjust their work schedules to be home more, they read and listened to music together as a family, and even played some board games, something Harry hadn’t done before. Tim had started to teach him how to play chess, and this would clearly take practice. He had a full bedroom of his very own. He had an almost-sister in Hermione, and a chance to cook food and be able to eat it in peace, too. It really was a dream.

Harry looked up when Taraneh came into the lounge. He smiled at her, and she gave him smile back and then continued to the desk in the corner. As she sat down and retrieved a pen, there was a loud knock at the front door.

“Hm, I wonder who that could be,” Taraneh said. “We’re not expecting anyone.”

“Er, would you like me to get it?” Harry asked, popping up from his chair and reaching for his crutches. It seemed he had more energy than he had thought he had, or perhaps he
was just bored. He had grown up being made to work, so relaxing, though he enjoyed it very much, left him with additional energy, he was quickly discovering. Particularly now that he had the chance to eat full, balanced meals.

“Harry, I will go as I was not expecting anyone, but you may come with me, if you like,” she said. “I wonder why they didn’t ring the doorbell.”
She opened the door, Harry right behind her. Standing in front of them was a woman with hair that was dark with streaks of gray, a hat, and long flowing dark emerald robes. Harry’s jaw dropped. Was magic real?

Perhaps it just wasn’t himself because he was a freak?

-Break-

Minerva stood in front of the Granger House, staring at the two people on the other side of the doorway. One appeared to be a muggle, and presumably Ms. Granger’s mother, but the other was not Ms. Granger. The other she recognized immediately. It was Harry Potter. With his messy dark hair, his green eyes like his mother’s, and lightning scar on his forehead just covered with a bit of fringe, it would be impossible to NOT recognize him. He wore glasses like his father had and was quite lean like him as well. What surprised and rather shocked her was that he seemed to be missing a leg! Albus Dumbledore had said nothing about Harry having met with an accident of some kind! The fact of the matter was that Albus always said that Harry was treated well, and surely he would have informed her if Harry had met with an accident.

She shook her head minutely to refocus on the reasons she was here. The first was to see if Harry was living here. It appeared he did, indeed. The second was to tell the Granger family that their daughter was a witch and that she was invited to attend Hogwarts. Now she had to wonder if Harry knew anything at all about the magical world and that he himself was a wizard. Dumbledore had insisted that Harry’s aunt would tell Harry all about it someday, because he had left a letter with Harry. Minerva now had serious doubts.

“Mrs. Granger? I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School,” Minerva said, offering her hand.

“Mrs. Shayani-Granger, or Ms. Shayani if you like, actually, and what is Hogwarts? I don’t believe we applied to your school for our children,” Taraneh said, thinking this was very odd, but the professor looked like she might be a witch. She remembered how Harry’s crutches had turned mostly red. Maybe she was there for Harry? No, they were thinking about adopting Harry, and that would be that, right? She felt suddenly off-balance but tried to remember her manners.

“Will you please come in?” Taraneh asked, gesturing inside. Harry turned around to go back to the lounge. Minerva studied him a moment. Even with crutches, Harry moved much like his father James did. She speculated that he might be good at Quidditch if given the chance. She tucked that speculation away for now in the back of her mind.

In the living room, Minerva saw the girl, Hermione Granger. She was sitting on the couch, with a book on her lap. She seemed to be wearing a leg brace. Minerva sincerely wished to know what had happened to these children. Her mind jumped to the 142 staircases in Hogwarts, but they’d had some differently abled students in the past and she knew they could accommodate them for the most part. Perhaps magic could help them in some way, as well. She knew they could not be cured, although she ought to speak to Poppy Pomfrey, the Hogwarts’ Healer. Hm, she then realized, Poppy is away on holiday.

“Would you care for a cup of tea, Professor McGonagall?” Taraneh asked, as she would all her guests. Minerva nodded her assent, giving her a quick smile.

“Yes, thank you, dear,” she said. She did not say it aloud, but she would have liked some firewhiskey, too, after the shocks of the previous few minutes.

Taraneh hurried to the kitchen to the kettle she kept on the stove. She had grown up here in the UK, but her parents took pride in their Persian heritage, and so Taraneh often had the same chaii available in her kitchen. She felt very anxious and was not sure why. It was so unlike her usually calm and cool under pressure self. She hurried to fill the tea tray, but carefully carried it back to their guest.

“I do hope you like it,” she said to Minerva as she served.

“I love Persian tea. Thank you,” Minerva replied graciously. Both Harry and Hermione were now sitting, side by side, on the couch. They were staring rather wide-eyed Professor McGonagall. Hermione, for once, lacked for anything to say.

“The reason I am here is I have come to deliver to Hermione and Harry their Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry acceptance letters,” she announced, and levitated the letters to their respective recipients. Taraneh’s jaw dropped as she watched the letters float to the children. Harry and Hermione grabbed the envelopes. Both contained letters giving them the information they needed about the school’s first day and what materials they would need.

“Are we both magical?” Hermione asked incredulously. “I thought Harry might be, because he made his crutches red.” She gestured to them. Minerva had noticed they were rather red, mixed with grey. “And Harry said he turned his cousin’s hair purple. I don’t think I’ve done anything amazing like that with colours.”

Minerva turned to Harry. This was becoming more curious. “Has anything else unusual happened to you, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, there was the time a few years ago, when somehow I was on the roof at primary school, and I’m not sure how I got there. I was trying to get away from my cousin Dudley, and some of his awful friends. They bullied me,” Harry stated. At this moment, he felt both elated and depressed, instead of ashamed as he was sometimes.
Minerva raised her brows. The boy was powerful. He assuredly needed to learn how to control it better.

"Mr. Potter, you have performed accidental magic. You Apparated yourself to the roof of the school. Accidental magic happens sometimes before you are of age. Hogwarts will teach you how to harness and use your magic. You will be permitted to get a license for Apparition when you are 17 years old, but before then, there will be no more Apparition outside of school.” Minerva explained. “Ms. Granger, as anything such as this happened to you?” Hermione considered this question, and said,

“Once, last year, I was too warm, and wanted some ice cubes for my water. Suddenly I had ice cubes in my cup.”

“Hermione! You never told me about that,” Taraneh said, looking at her daughter in awe. She truly had no idea Hermione was able to do that. Yes, there had been a few small occurrences, but nothing that large.

“Mum, it was fine. Surprising, but fine,” Hermione said. She smiled to herself at the memory.

“Ms. Shayani, both children are on the registration list for Hogwarts for this year’s incoming class. Hogwarts teaches its students many things, such as how to control their magic so that accidental magic like theirs doesn’t happen. Hogwarts provides lessons on how to get along with others in a boarding school situation and they will make lifelong friendships. Hogwarts is the UK’s school for wizards and witches. There is an entire wizarding world that exists alongside the Muggle world. Most often witches and wizards are descended from a long line of magical people, but every so often, such as your daughter, one comes up in a Muggle family. Mr. Potter, you come from magical parents, but your mother, Lily, came from a Muggle family. Your grandparents were quite proud of her,” Minerva said, looking at Harry rather fondly.

“Did you know my mum and dad?” Harry asked. He had been told so little about them, except that they were freaks, too. “And what are Muggles?”

“Oh, yes, they were students of mine in the seventies. They were both exceptionally good students, too. I can share more about them later.” Minerva said to him. “Meanwhile, to answer your other question, muggles are what we call non-magical people.”

Harry didn’t think his parents were freaks then, if they were good students. He was slowly beginning to realize that maybe his aunt and uncle were the freaks in their desire to be normal, but then again, sometimes normal was nice. Normal, without Dudley around, would have been nice at his primary school. Here at the Shayani-Granger home, he was beginning to understand what other ways normal could be like.

“Professor McGonagall, if this school begins first of September, where is it? How do the students get there? What is the tuition? Will it be accessible for them?” Taraneh asked anxiously, even more unlike herself. She was usually calm and collected. She was an Orthopaedic Surgeon, for goodness’ sake, but this was beyond the operating room where she was always in firm control.

“Ms. Shayani, I understand your worries. Firstly, Hogwarts is in Scotland, but it has so much magical protection that it doesn’t look like a castle to non-magical folk. Secondly, the students travel there aboard the Hogwarts Express, which they will board from Platform nine and three-quarters at Kings Cross Station,” Minerva said. She looked over to Harry and Hermione again. “You will need to cross through the wall between platforms nine and ten.” They nodded in response, because they did not yet realize they should ask how to cross through the wall. She turned back to Hermione’s mother.

“Tuition is paid by the Ministry of Magic, but you will be responsible for books and supplies. As accessibility goes, we have 142 staircases at Hogwarts. We have adjusted some staircases in the past to allow students with different abilities access. We may place charms so a portion of the staircases will act as escalators, perhaps.”

“Professor McGonagall, thank you! I cannot climb stairs well yet. And – and I think you should know that Harry has a prosthetic leg, but he doesn’t like it very well because he can move faster with crutches. He got his new leg few weeks ago, but he’s had some trouble with it. The prosthetist has been trying to adjust some things because his limb gets quite painful and finds it difficult to keep his balance, but really, he just needs to get used to it, or so the physio says,” Hermione seemed to say all in one breath.

“Ms. Granger, I expect you shall be active in discussion in the classroom then?” Minerva commented with an amused smile.

“Oh, yes, Professor. I will need to get of all the books on this list you gave us, and read as many ahead of time as possible, so that I may knowledgably discuss them,” Hermione said enthusiastically. Her mother rose from her seat.

“Professor, will you be here for a while yet? I should ring my husband at work, and see if he can take a break,” Taraneh said faintly.

“Excellent idea, Ms. Shayani, we still have much to talk about and I would like to meet him,” Minerva nodded.

Harry watched his guardian step into the kitchen to place the call. He was honestly shocked about this turn of events. Magical? We’re really going to learn magic? I’ve always wished someone would come rescue me. I’ve been rescued twice now, and I’m actually a wizard? I’m not really a freak?

“Professor, would you tell us more about Hogwarts? Do we get wands?” Harry pleaded while absently rubbing his residual limb. Minerva had to wonder about what pain Harry may be experiencing as she watched his face. Hopefully, she could get that taken care of for him to some extent. He didn’t even seem to know he was in pain. She needed to find out the circumstances of this, and when it happened. She assumed it was recent as she got a quick peek at the scarring from under his long pair of shorts .

“Hogwarts is a boarding school and we have four Houses which were created by the four founders. We have a Sorting Hat which will decide which house you will be in, and your House will become your home away from home for the next seven years,” she explained.

“What house were my parents in?” His eyes twinkled and Hermione had never quite seen it in Harry’s eyes before. She knew he yearned to know more about his biological parents, and this was a dream come true for him, perhaps even more than finding out they had magic.

“They were both in my house, Mr. Potter. I am the head of Gryffindor House, and I became quite close with them,” Minerva said. “Your fellow housemates really do become a second family. You take your required classes with your housemates, which consists of Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Herbology. There are other classes as well that you may take during your school years at Hogwarts.”

“Are there exams, Professor McGonagall?” Hermione said, leaning forward in anticipation. Harry wanted to roll his eyes. He loved to read and to learn, but taking exams? Not his favorite activity.

“Yes, in every class, of course, and in your 5th year, you will be required to take your Ordinary Wizarding Levels and then your NEWTS your 7th year before you graduate,” Minerva said. Ms. Granger was really starting to grow on her.

“Tim will be here in a few minutes,” Taraneh said as she came back in the room and took her seat. Hermione noticed her mum looked a bit calmer, so she asked another question related to the school.

“Do you offer GCSE’s or A-Levels?”

“At the present time, no, but I have been trying to have the option for students who wish to pursue post-graduate muggle education. Other muggleborn students such as yourself have asked. Perhaps you will help me get it sorted. We’ll have to get it approved by the school’s governing board, and that will be a challenge,” Minerva replied. “They are most reluctant to change.”

“May we visit Hogwarts? I would like to see where the children may be attending school,” Taraneh said.

“That usually isn’t done, but I believe I can arrange it,” Minerva replied. Why had she not thought of this before? They were stuck doing everything the same old way that it had all become habit. The more elite purebloods called it tradition. It might help muggleborns to be encouraged to stay in the Wizarding world after Hogwarts if they were at least properly introduced to the Wizarding world and its traditions. However, first things first.

“When your husband arrives, we need to have a discussion about a few things concerning Harry,” Minerva said to Taraneh. “I am not sure we should have it with the children present.”

“What?” Harry shouted, jumping up on his good leg. Hermione tugged his arm to pull him back down.

“I am tired of people thinking they know what’s best for me. I need to know everything you want to talk about,” Harry said, as he flopped back down on the couch. “I will be staying.”

Minerva was not entirely sure how to take this. The boy certainly had a stubborn streak, and quite honestly, a lot of courage. He would fit in well with the Gryffindor house. She privately hoped the Sorting Hat would think so, too.

“If your guardian approves, then yes, you may stay,” Minerva said, glancing at Taraneh. She gave a slight nod.

“Professor McGonagall,” Harry said, “Tara and Tim are thinking about adopting me. If they do, Hermione will be my sister. It would be even better than being best friends.”

“Er, yes, perhaps we will start there then. How did you come to be living here, Harry?” Minerva said with a questioning expression. “The last I understood, you were living with your aunt, uncle, and cousin on Privet Drive.”

“I haven’t lived there in three months,” Harry said. Then in a very low, strong tone, he said, “I will NOT go back.”

“Harry, I didn’t mean to frighten you with this question. It is that we haven’t heard from Mrs. Figg for a great deal of time. I know she used to watch you when your aunt was out,” Minerva said.

“Mrs. Figg was rather ill back in the spring, so she didn’t watch me at all. Is she alright?” Harry asked. He was now worried about Mrs. Figg and her cats, and he felt bad he hadn’t really given her a thought. Was Mrs. Figg magical, too?

“We’ll send someone to check on her later. Mrs. Figg is a Squib, she was born into a magical family, but has no magic herself.” Minerva explained. “Harry, how did you leave the Dursleys?”

“Wait, I object,” Taraneh said. She knew how panicky and shut down Harry could get. He held up his hand.

“Tara joon, please let me talk. I will be fine, I think,” he said, sure of himself today. He felt good about Professor McGonagall, like he wanted to tell her about the bad things. He felt safe here, and with her. He started out quietly telling his story, from the time he was three years old to the present, about how Aunt Petunia hadn’t seemed to care about him most of the time even though she now claimed she did, Dudley bullied him and used him as a punching bag, and then he got to Uncle Vernon.

“He has always been mean to me. He doesn’t like me, the freak, in his house. He thinks I cause everything to go wrong. I had to do all the work in the house and in the garden. The most he would do before was scream at me and lock me in my cupboard. Sometimes I didn’t get food. This was the worst thing he’d ever done to me,” he said indicating his leg. “He’d never come after me like this before. Now I know it was accidental magic, but - he was so angry when he saw Dudley’s hair turned purple.”

Tears started streaming from his eyes, and he brushed at them. He really hated to cry, particularly in front of people. “He came after me with the shovel because one of my chores that day was shoveling soil into the flower beds in the garden, and when I started running, I left the shovel behind, so he beat me with it. My leg.” He could not say anymore now, despite his being so sure about it. Hermione held his hand. He looked towards Tara. She nodded and took over, explaining what had happened to Harry afterwards. Tim quietly entered the house as she talked, and after she was finished describing how bad Harry’s leg had been, and had pulled out copies of the photos, she introduced her husband to Professor McGonagall. Tim had just entered the room, looking at all their faces, trying to gage what was going on.

“Lovely to meet you, Dr. Granger,” Minerva said, trying desperately to control her nausea. Listening to Harry’s story made her feel physically ill, and then to see the photos! Even though they were stationary muggle photos, it was too much. Oh, that Dumbledore! She was sure that he had absolutely no idea what had been going on at Number Four Privet Drive for the last ten years. She wished she had brought a potion to soothe her stomach and her nerves.

“So, our Hermione and Harry have magic, do they?” Tim asked hesitantly. He knew that Harry’s crutches had turned colours, but he had wondered if his eyes (and mind) were playing tricks on him.

“Yes, they certainly do, Dr. Granger,” Minerva replied. “I will demonstrate for you all.” She retrieved her wand from her robes and transfigured a small table nearby into a large vase stuffed full of roses vaguely the color of the table. Gasps came from everyone else. She then changed it back into the table.

“Will we learn to do that, too?” Both Harry and Hermione asked, excitement peaking in their voices.

“Yes, eventually, dears. I just performed a transfiguration spell. I teach the Transfiguration classes. Hogwarts offers seven years of schooling, and as you progress through, you will have many opportunities to discover where your interests may lie,” Minerva said.

“I plan on attending,” Hermione said, sparking her golden-brown eyes at her parents. She had very few friends in her primary school, mostly because she was always reading and most of the other kids had called her 'knowitall', one word, with frequency. Now she had Harry to go on this marvelous new adventure with her, and she promised herself that she would not attempt to answer every question the teacher might ask. “Particularly if we will still be able to take our GCSEs, too.”

“Same here,” Harry said. Traces of his tears lingered, drying on his cheeks, but his green eyes nearly danced with joy.

“I think we will need to discuss this as a family,” Dr. Granger said. Hermione’s brown eyes began to plead with her parents.

Minerva pulled parchment resembling a brochure out of her robes and handed it to them. “Here is more information on our school. Please keep it to refer to in your consideration and decision. I will let you know when I might be able to take you to visit the school.” Taraneh and Tim expressed their gratitude.

“Now, we have other matters to discuss. Ms. Shayani, you and your husband wish to adopt young Mr. Potter,” Minerva said, feeling some anger towards Albus Dumbledore pushing its way to the front. She struggled to keep her voice even.

“Yes, we would love to adopt him. He needs a home, and we already love him,” Tarahneh said softly.

“I feel safe here,” Harry whispered, and Hermione squeezed his hand. Minerva had excellent hearing and distinctly overheard this.

“There is something of an issue with this. There is the matter of custody in both the muggle world (which means non-magical people, Dr. Granger), and in the wizarding world. I personally have no issue with Harry living here with you. We can cast the necessary wards to protect him while he is here. I may even bring in a ward master to work on them. However, the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, may take issue with this. He believes that Harry must live with his aunt for ‘blood protection’ wards to be active.”

“Petunia Dursley has turned over her rights to Harry legally, although she was a bit afraid of something. Perhaps it was these wards,” Taraneh said, beginning to look frustrated.

“Why are the wards necessary?” Tim asked. Minerva wondered how much to share, but then again, Harry wanted to know everything. This wouldn’t be even close to everything, but she could share a bit.

“They are necessary because Harry’s parents didn’t die in a car crash, as Harry has been led to believe. They died at the hands of an evil, dark wizard named Voldemort, more popularly referred to as You Know Who. Harry is the only person known to have survived a killing curse. That is when Harry acquired the scar on his forehead as a toddler. The curse rebounded off Harry and killed the dark wizard. The wards are to protect Harry from any of the dark wizard’s old followers.”

“Ohhh,” Harry said in rather a moan, and brought up his right knee to lay his head against it, trying to take some deep breaths, just like the counselor he had seen a few times now had suggested. He was trying to calm his anxiety, and a deep sadness that washed over him. Taraneh rose to go hug him, but he waved her away. A bit hurt, she sat back down next to Tim, although she remembered that Harry was still not completely used to being touched much in a way that was meant to be supportive and loving. He tended to withdraw into himself.

“In the wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore seems to have custody of Harry, although if I recall correctly, there was nothing officially signed or documented about this arrangement,” Minerva said. “It was he who decided Harry should go to the Dursley home.” She could see that though it looked like Harry was trying to calm his breathing down, he was still listening.

“Professor Dumbledore is away on holiday just now, so as his Deputy Headmistress, I shall have to make some decisions.” She paused for a few moments to give herself a chance to think. Everyone in the room was quiet. She spoke her measured words carefully.

“As it seems Harry feels safe here in your home,” Minerva said, “I support your decision to pursue adoption. I will have to check into the blood wards. I wonder if there is some way to transfer them. If not, we shall work out something.”

Taraneh hugged Tim, and Hermione hugged Harry, who lifted his face from his knee just in time.

“Seriously, I really get to live here? I have don’t have to go back to the Dursleys?” He let out a deep breath of relief.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, but with the understanding that I will be personally taking you under my wing while you are at Hogwarts. I will even do the parchment work necessary to become your Magical guardian. You may count on me to be there to support you, so if ever you need to talk, or have a problem, I will be there to listen,” Minerva said, a warm smile breaking the natural sternness of her face. “I loved your parents, you know, like they were my own children.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. He was rather unsure about sharing certain things with Professor McGonagall just yet. He looked over to his Tara joon and gave her a shy grin. She winked at him.

“Please let me know your decision. I will take you all to Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies should you decide to attend,” Minerva said. “I will also contact you with this parchment about any other arrangement to be made. You may write on it as well, and I will receive your messages. I will check into getting appointments for Harry and Hermione with Healers at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies. It is located secretly in London. We’ll see if there is something we can do to improve your conditions. I cannot promise anything.”

“I would like to accompany the children,” Taraneh said. “I am a medical professional myself. I’d like to see how Healers work.” The idea of magical healing truly fascinated her.

“Most certainly, Ms. Shayani. You are welcome, too, Dr. Granger,” Minerva said with a smile. “I do just ask that you keep the knowledge that there is indeed magic under your hat, so to speak. You are permitted to know because of your children, but you MUST NOT tell anyone else. If anyone asks where you have sent the children to school, just tell the truth.”

Dr. Granger replied rather dryly, “We will say that Hermione and Harry are at a private boarding school in Scotland.” Minerva gave a nod of approval.

“Very well, then,” she said as she rose from the chair. “Ms. Shayani, thank you for the tea. It was wonderful. Dr. Granger, it was nice to meet you. Thanks to you both for taking Harry in and giving him the love and care he needs. Hermione,” she said, turning to the children. “I look forward to having discussions with you. Harry,” she paused, “everything will work out.”

With that, Minerva swept toward the front door, and exited. She walked around to the edge of the back garden where no one could see her and started to place as many temporary wards over the home as she could. These would not be as strong as the blood wards of Privet Drive, but better than nothing for now. She had to protect Harry now that Albus Dumbledore didn’t seem to be paying any attention. It would be her job as of this moment, no matter that Albus would argue with her about sending Harry back to Petunia.
She finished working the wards to the best of her ability, stepped away, and apparated back to the gates of the castle.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: All We Need is Love, a Floo Connection, and More Shocking Discoveries

After Professor McGonagall had left the house, Harry looked at Hermione with glee in his eyes.

“I’m a wizard,” Harry said in awe. “And so were my parents.” Hermione locked eyes with him, in shock.

“And I’m a witch.” A moment later, they looked over at Taraneh and Tim, who were also in shock, also.

“Did we just dream this?” Tim mumbled.

“No!” Harry and Hermione said together and laughed.

“This explains so many things,” Harry said a few minutes after. “Magic was something Uncle Vernon was scared of. Nobody could say the word magic in the house. Why he called me freak all the time, and -,” the laughter leaving his body.

“Harry, you have a home here with us now. We will see about adoption, and -“ Taraneh looked at her husband, and he gave her a nod with a smile, “you may both go to Hogwarts, contingent on a visit. We will miss you, but I think that it will be good for you to go. You will write often, and we will keep in touch with you as much as possible. We’ll work out something for continuing your ‘muggle’ education.”

Harry, who rarely hugged because it was just too much touching, got up and went over to the two who would become his adoptive parents. He leaned down to give them both a one armed hug so he could keep his balance. Taraneh was itching to pull him all the way into her arms, but clearly, he wasn’t entirely ready for that. “Thank you,” he said.
Hermione joined them, and Taraneh pulled her down onto her lap.

“My girl,” Taraneh said, hugging her daughter fiercely.

“I know that Professor McGonagall just left, but perhaps, Mum, you could write the response to her. It’s just too exciting. Yes, I will miss you, but I’ll get to learn so many new things!” She looked at Harry, who was standing next to her. “Harry, promise you’ll study with me at school?”

“Er, maybe?” Harry said. Even though he loved reading, and was reasonably good with mathematics and science, he had rarely been permitted to study in his cupboard. He just tried to pick up whatever he could at school and had done well enough doing that.

“You’ll want to. You’ll see,” Hermione said, grinning at him. Harry was tempted to agree with her, but perhaps he should remain noncommittal right now.

“Well, now that we have decided, I need to have some lunch as it IS my lunch break,” Tim said, looking at his watch. He ran a hand through his short medium brown hair. “I have another patient in 30 minutes.” He got up and headed to the kitchen. Taraneh rose and went to collect the teacups.

“Mum!” Hermione nearly shouted.

“Yes, Mione joon?” Taraneh asked, putting teacups on the tray.

“Could you send our acceptance to Hogwarts now?” Hermione asked anxiously. Harry got the feeling that if Hermione was able, she would have been jumping up and down in her impatience.

“Oh, yes,” Taraneh said. She hurried over to the parchment, and neatly wrote a short letter accepting (contingent on a visit to Hogwarts) on behalf of Hermione and Harry.

“I’m going to the kitchen now,” Harry stated, following Tim. He had suddenly realized he was hungry! It was not in the haven’t-eaten-in-two-or-more-days kind of way he’d experienced at the Dursleys, but just the feeling being well-fed regularly, and his stomach was ready for more. He wondered if this was normal. Tim was making a leftover roast beef sandwich. Harry thought it looked delicious. He had never known beef could taste so good. He got started on making his own roast beef sandwich, pulling the beef from the pan on the cooker. He added cheese to his sandwich as well. After choosing an apple, he half-hopped on one crutch to get his plate over to the table. His apple rolled off the plate, and he crash landed down on his chair. Tim, already sitting at the table, chuckled a bit, and retrieved Harry’s apple for him.

“I wonder if you could learn to move your food to the table with magic, Harry,” Tim said as he took another bite. He needed to leave shortly.

“Yeah, that would be useful,” Harry said. He wondered why he had not thought of it already.

“You could have asked for help, too, Harry,” Tim reminded him gently.

“You’re right. Thanks,” Harry said. It was so hard to ask for help since he was not used to doing so yet. Just then a squeal came from the living room.

“Harry, Harry!” Hermione called. “Professor McGonagall has already written us back! She is happy we’ve decided to attend Hogwarts, she will work out a visit, and she is going to come back tomorrow already!” Harry chewed his sandwich as Hermione came as fast as she could into the kitchen. “We aren’t going to Diagon Alley, yet, because she proposed going on thirty-first July, which is your birthday!”

“Really?” Harry let his mouth hang open in more astonishment. Fortunately for everyone, he had chewed and swallowed his bite of food. He would indeed have an interesting birthday for once in his life!

“Tomorrow after right after lunch, she will be here to take us to St. Mungo’s. It seems she cannot get in touch with the school’s healer yet.”
Taraneh entered with the tray of tea things. “Yes, and fortunately, I have off tomorrow, too. This is excellent timing. And Harry joon, I’ll make sure I take your birthday off, even if I need to switch shifts with someone,” she said.

“Unfortunately, I have patients tomorrow,” Tim said. “You lot have fun without me.” He stood, walked his plate to the sink, kissed Taraneh, and waved to the children as he walked out the side door. “See you later.”

“I wonder if we can fill our water glasses with magic,” Harry commented. Taraneh brought him a cup of water, taking the hint, and brought over his other crutch from where he had left it near the kitchen counter. Hermione, who still seemed to be bubbling with excitement, went to make her own sandwich. She talked all the way through lunch, and Harry just listened.

-Break-

The next morning, Harry and Hermione went to their ‘muggle’ physiotherapy sessions. Hermione was trying to walk with just the leg brace to support her, without stick, cane, or crutch. Harry practiced balance across the room, while wearing his prosthetic leg. He frequently fell, but he kept at it. He wanted to be able to really walk with it when he got to his new school. Ben said that Harry would need to take his crutches along to school, if even for just getting up at night or for days when perhaps his residual limb hurt. He wondered if he was going to have to tell his new roommates what had happened. Perhaps he could just tell them that it was an ‘accident’ without any details?

Taraneh took them home in time for an early lunch. Harry took a shower. Therapy had made him sweat. Hermione thought herself fine, but she went to her bedroom to change into nicer, fresh clothes. She removed her track bottoms, and pulled on a long summery skirt, not being sure what would be appropriate for the occasion. She brushed her curls trying to get them to calm down a bit in front of her mirror. I’m a witch, she thought, and I am going to learn to do magic! Perhaps there are hair spells.

A few minutes later, Hermione walked slowly to the kitchen for lunch, a question on her mind. She wanted to tell her aunt this news.

“Hi, Mum,” she said as she went to the stove where her mother was stirring leftover ghorma sabzi from the night before. “Do you think we would be permitted to tell Aunt Tina?”

“Oh,” her mum said. “I frankly have no idea. I suppose we must ask Professor McGonagall. I wonder what Tina would think about this. You’re right, Tina will want to know where you are attending school at the very least. She will want to write you.”

“I’ll ask then,” Hermione said, and her mother handed her plates to set the table with. She did so rather cheerily, daydreaming about the future. After she finished, she seated herself, and dazedly unlocked the knee of the brace.

Harry arrived a short time later, his messy dark hair damp and all over the place, even though it looked like he had attempted to comb it. He had put on a pair of tan trousers and a nice polo shirt. He was trying to look good, too. He had put on his prosthetic leg again but was using his crutches for support because despite the therapy, he still could not quite walk with the leg well. He fell a lot. He though perhaps it was the knee on his prosthesis. Something did not seem right with the knee. He had known it would be difficult, but not this difficult. He got frustrated with the prosthesis and with himself frequently, but rarely let anyone know. Tara joon seemed to sense it sometimes but did not make him try to talk about it. Hermione was the only one who came closest to truly understanding.

When they had finished their lunch, Harry and Hermione went to the lounge to read. Harry was not reading science fiction, which he used to like, but now always reminded him of that particular night. He was attempting to read Pride and Prejudice because it was one Tara had said she loved it, and it was on the bookcase of this very room. Honestly, he found it dull, and thought maybe it would be better when he was older. He stood up, took one crutch, and wobbled very unsteadily over to the bookshelves, where he put Pride and Prejudice back where it belonged. He scanned the shelves. As he glanced down, he saw medical books. He had to figure how to lean down to pull out a large, intriguing book entitled Beginning Orthopaedics. Now this was something he could get into reading!

A short time later, there was a knock at the door. Taraneh let their guest in. Professor McGonagall looked quite as harried she had yesterday but seemed more collected today.

“Welcome, Professor McGonagall,” Taraneh said, as she was much more prepared today as well to greet their guest.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Shayani,” Professor McGonagall said with a smile.

“Would you care for something to drink?” Taraneh asked.

“Maybe afterwards, thank you, Ms. Shayani,” Professor McGonagall replied.

Harry and Hermione were no longer reading. They were eagerly awaiting this visit, hoping they could learn more about magic. They were also both privately hopeful that perhaps these Healers at St. Mungos would be able to do something for them. They were aware that their issues were not necessarily problems, because they had both been getting used to the changes in their lives. . . but, now there was magic! Could magic change things?

“First, I must inquire if you have a fireplace?” McGonagall asked.

“Of course, we have one in our kitchen, and in our bedroom,” Taraneh said. McGonagall nodded and replied,

“The one in the kitchen will be acceptable, I’m sure. Let’s have a look.” Harry and Hermione followed the adults into the kitchen. Harry had never seen the fireplace in use, as it had been an unusually warm spring and summer. It was a stone fireplace that was left over from the old house that had stood here before. Taraneh had loved it so much years before, that they remodelled the house around it.

“Professor, why do you need to look at it?” Harry asked as they all gathered in front of the fireplace.

‘Why, Mr. Potter, is because we need a way to transport you all to St. Mungos! You and Ms. Granger have appointments, starting in an hour. Traveling by Floo seems to be the most efficient way right now. We could take a portkey, but that is not a suitable long-term solution. I have altered the wards slightly on your house and will install your fireplace to the Floo Network.

“Are muggles permitted to use it?” Taraneh asked. “I was hoping to go along today.”

“Normally, no, not on your own. However, you will tag along with your daughter, as she is magical, and Harry will accompany me, just this time. We want to make sure the children know what they are doing,” McGonagall said. “If the location you are travelling to is misspoken, then you may end up in a place you would never want to be. I am trusting you children to use this resource wisely. However, for the moment, your floo will be connected only with Hogwarts and St. Mungo’s Physiotherapy department.”

“Is it safe?” Harry asked.

“Yes, it is safe, although some feel nauseated on the other end,” replied McGonagall.

“Oh.” He watched while McGonagall performed the magic required to install the Floo, as it was indeed an acceptable fireplace. Hermione gasped periodically from beside him. Finally, McGonagall was done. She pulled a small jar out of one of her numerous robe pockets.

“This is Floo powder, children. It will produce green flames, you state very cleary where you intend to go, and you land in the fireplace of your intended location,” McGonagall said with a small smile.

“Will we get all sooty?” Hermione asked.

“Not generally, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said.

“Ms. Shayani, do you have any medical records for the children?”

“Yes, here in my bag,” she replied, patting it.

“Well, then, let me shrink your cane, Hermione, and your crutches, Harry,” McGonagall said. “It wouldn’t do for them to get lost in the Floo.” She murmured the shrinking spell one at a time, and then handed them to the children. Hermione was doing just fine keeping her balance and reached for her miniaturized cane to place it in her mother’s bag before taking her arm. Meanwhile, Harry shoved his miniature crutches in a trouser pocket.

“They won’t fall out my pocket, will they, Professor?”

“I will put a small sticking charm on your pocket, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said softly with a smile, and did so. Harry gave her a brief, but dazzling smile, and then immediately looked vaguely worried.

“Alright. Ms. Granger, you will hold onto your mother, throw the floo powder and call out ‘St. Mungo’s – Healer Terrill’s Office’. Watch how Harry and I will do it and do the exact same.” So saying, she took a handful of Floo powder, helped Harry get in the fireplace, threw the powder and called out the location, just as she had instructed the moment before. Green fire flashed and then they were gone.

“Ready to go, Mum?” Hermione asked. She took the powder in her hand, and her mother held onto her as they got themselves in the fireplace. She took a deep breath threw the powder and clearly named were they were to go.

Harry and McGonagall had arrived in Healer Hannah Terrill’s office at St. Mungo’s. Harry was impressed with this mode of travel except that he had fallen out of the fireplace at the Healer’s office, and he had very embarrassingly gotten sick on the hearth. McGonagall vanished it away, got him tea with a wee bit of sugar, and then summoned his shrunken crutches from his pocket to return them to their normal size. Harry needed to move before Hermione might land on top of him! She helped him up to his feet, and led him over to a couch, where she gave him his cup of tea.

“Will I get better at that?” Harry asked.

“Of course! It was only your first time,” McGonagall said. Green fire flared in the fireplace, and both Hermione and Taraneh landed on their feet. Hermione started to tip forward, but Tara caught her first.

“That was . . . interesting,” Tara said. She did not get sick, but she certainly looked nauseated. Minerva led her to the couch to sit beside Harry and conjured a cup of tea for her. Hermione did not look ill at all.

“I think it was fun, and it’s a fast mode of transportation. I like it,” she said cheerily as she rummaged through her mother’s bag for her miniature cane. Having found it, she held it out so that the professor could enlarge the cane to its regular size. “I need to learn how to do this myself,” she said.

“Yes, I think both you and Harry will learn. In the meanwhile, I will put charms on them so that if you push on a particular spot, they will automatically shrink and enlarge,” Minerva said, to the delight of the two children.

The door to the office opened. A youngish-looking witch wearing lime-green robes hurried into the room.

“Minerva, wonderful! I have made sure we have privacy at the moment, as you requested. You have all made it, I see. Hello, I am Healer Hannah Terrill,” she said, greeting them all with a bright, cheerful smile. She sat at her desk. “I see the Floo wasn’t fully agreeable? Harry, if you still feel ill after the exam, I will give you a potion. Ms. Shayani, I am afraid the potion will not agree with you, unless you have some latent magic, perhaps.”

“Is that possible? How would we test that?” Taraneh asked, sounding remarkably like her daughter. “I am a muggle physician, and I would like to find out more. Do you do surgery here?”

“Oh, yes, Minerva told me you’re an orthopaedic surgeon. I have a proposition for you, too. Let’s get the children taken care of first, and then I can scan you, as I don’t have any further patients today. I’ll answer your questions then, as well. Let’s all move to the exam room next door,” she said pleasantly. “If you have records for the children, I would like to see them now. Meanwhile, children, here is a bed for each of you. Please change into the gown on the beds. I will be doing a scan with my wand to see any current issues, and then if I feel I need to look more deeply into the past, I will do more in depth scans. Normally, I would do the scans with your regular clothes on, but as I am also a Physiotherapist, I would like to get an idea of what we will need to work on. Alright?” They all nodded their heads, and Harry and Hermione moved to beds that were split by a curtain. Taranah handed over the file folders. Minerva sat in a corner chair with her quill and some paperwork. The children, although at St. Mungo’s relatively secretly, must be registered, and Harry must have an alias.

“If you have any additional questions, I can answer them, Healer Terrill,” Taraneh said said.

“Thank you! I am sure you can, and please, call me Hannah.” She carried the files over to a small desk to look at the files. Hermione’s was more complete, while Harry’s was fairly sparse until last April. In a low voice she asked, “Harry was not taken to any physicians, except through school. Did he get vaccinations? Oh, I see now that he started to be brought up to date while in hospital. Hmm, his weight was too low. Well, let’s see if he’s gained.”

“He has grown at least six cm in height since April. It may be why he find his prosthetic so uncomfortable,” Taraneh said.

“We’ll let’s check them out,” she said lightly so Harry and Hermione could hear. “Who wants to go first?”

“Hermione can go first,” Harry said from his bed. “May I watch?”

“Does the curtain open?” Hermione asked. Hannah flicked her wand, and the heavy curtain swept backwards so the children could see one another. Harry felt particularly anxious and wanted to see how magical exams were done before it was his turn.

Healer Terrill place her wand over Hermione’s head, hovering over. Harry saw that Healer Terrill was slowly moving the wand towards Hermione’s feet. The information gathered seemed to write itself on a piece of parchment nearby. He took a deep breath, to calm himself. It was still rather difficult to believe this was all real! After several minutes, Healer Terrill was finished.

“Just as I expected, Ms. Granger,” Healer Terrill said. “You are very healthy, and it appears your recent injuries have healed well, the bone fractures particularly. Unfortunately, we in the magical world still don’t know how to repair nerve and some soft tissue injuries well enough yet.”

“You can’t magically fix my leg then, right? I had hoped that maybe -,” Hermione said softly. “You can’t do magical surgery or something? A potion?”

“Even with our magic, we cannot heal everything. We can do surgery if needed with our wands –“ (Taraneh gasped shock over this,) “but some things are better done the Muggle way.” Harry thought this sounded intriguing. He had thought about going into medicine in the future, and now that he was living with Tara Joon, he was even more keen on the idea. He knew she saw some terrible things, but she also helped people. Now that he was a wizard, maybe he could do both? It was something to think about.

“I will give you some pain potion if you need it, Ms. Granger. It usually helps within seconds. That is one of the advantages we have over Muggle medicine. Do you feel you need something now?”

“No, I feel fine,” Hermione said. "Thank you."

“We can do some other things, though. I think it a good idea to keep wearing your brace. In fact, we can add some charms to it to give you more stability and function, and even make it sense what you wish to do, and you can get rid of your cane. Stairs will be easier, especially at Hogwarts. Sounds good?”

“Yes! Since you can’t just cure me, this does sound good,” Hermione said with a large smile, but a hint of disappointment lingering in her brown eyes.

“All right, it is Mr. Potter’s turn, then,” Healer Terrill said. Harry was now a bundle of nerves. Would every one of his old injuries show up on the report?

“Do I need to remove my prosthetic?” Harry asked anxiously. He had already taken his trousers off, and put on the gown, but he was suddenly scared for some reason he could not put his finger on.

“Actually, no, not for the scan, but afterwards, I want to have a good look at your stump, all right? I think we’ll be able to make you a much more effective magical prosthetic,” Healer Terrill said.

“That’ll be great! I call it residual limb, though. I don’t care for that other word, Healer Terrill,” Harry said.

“I’ll remember that, Mr. Potter.” She placed the wand over his head just as she had to Hermione, and slowly scanned. It took several minutes longer than Hermione’s scan had taken. The quill on the parchment kept on writing. Harry tried to relax on the bed and keep still. At least, to him, this seemed less invasive than at the muggle hospital, which he liked.

When she was finished the scan and had examined Harry’s residual limb, Hannah asked Minerva, her old Transfiguration teacher, to join them at Harry’s bed, as she was in process of becoming Harry’s magical guardian.

“Mr. Potter, you appear generally healthy at present. I can see that you have been getting good care at your new home. You have gained a fair amount of weight, although you are thin for your height. You have grown seven cm since April! You do have several old fractures recorded, but they appear surprisingly well healed.” Harry gave a small nod. “I am a little concerned about the nerves in your left hip most, honestly. You had some fractures there. They healed, but some of the nerves are sending odd signals. Before you lost your leg, were you able to run?”

“Yeah. Not as fast as I could before that injury, but I could,” Harry mumbled. “I really liked to run.”

“I think we’ll be able to help with that with a new prosthesis, provided the nerves don’t cause a problem.”

“I’ll be able to run?” Harry’s eyes flew open and his entire demeanor changed.

“Perhaps someday. It’s a definite possibly,” Healer Terrill said.

“Alright!” Harry replied with a grin on his face.

“Wait a moment,” Taraneh said, looking shocked yet again. “Harry has nerve issues with his hip? We didn’t know. I think I will check them out in my hospital, too.” She made some quick notes on a small notebook she had pulled from her bag.

“Certainly, Ms. Shayani. What else? You will need to be checked for a new eye prescription, which can be done with a muggle optometrist. We can’t do much with eyesight. Oh, you do have asthma. It is rather rare for wizards, but not unheard of. I think that you may keep taking your muggle medications, as our potions are not quite as effective. Your vitamin levels are slightly unbalanced, but not so badly anymore. Your nutrition has improved recently, and that it WAS much worse a few months ago. Keep eating whatever you like at this point, but make sure you get more protein, fruits, and vegetables daily. You are experiencing some pain in your residual limb, too, as well as in your hip, but I suspect you don’t care to tell anyone and that you have strong pain tolerance. Most of it is caused by your prosthetic leg which doesn’t fit you correctly and is causing sore spots, as well as the nerve pain.”

“My physiotherapist keeps trying to adjust what he can adjust on my leg, but I am supposed to go back to the prosthetist to see what he can do,” Harry said explained. “Some days I feel too sore, and just use crutches to rest,” he added.

“Mr. Potter, that is perfectly acceptable now, and in the future,” Healer Terrill stated. “As well, you will not want to have to always put your leg on before going to the toilet, for instance, especially at night.”

“That’s right,” Harry agreed. “My muggle physio told me that, too.”

“I would recommend that you don’t wear this prosthetic anymore, and let your residual limb recover until we have your new one ready. I think you should take a true break to rest and recover for now, and then we will have you come here for your physio with your new magical prosthesis. Agree?” Harry agreed eagerly. He thought Taraneh looked guilty, like she should have noticed, but Harry had partially wanted to please her by using the ill-fitting prosthetic and because he had wanted wear it at his new school. Professor McGonagall looked pleased that everything was going so well thus far.

“You are in some pain right now, are you not, Mr. Potter?” Healer Terrill asked gently. At Harry’s reluctant nod, she got up and went over to a cabinet. She returned with a vial in her hand. “This is for pain. As I said to Ms. Granger, it should clear your pain in seconds, and the effects should last for a few hours. All you do it drink it down. I warn you it does not taste good.”

“All right,” Harry agreed. Taraneh looked alarmed.

“Ms. Shayani, it is perfectly safe. I will give you a list of the ingredients, if you like,” Healer Terrill said.

“Well, I suppose it’s all right,” Taraneh murmured, trying to relax a little.

Harry took the vial of dubious liquid from Healer Terrill and swallowed. It was not the most pleasant of tastes, to say the least. He felt it spreading throughout his body and was surprised that it worked quite well. And fast.

“So, you can’t grow my leg back with a potion like this?” he asked impulsively, handing back the vial, even though he had heard what Healer Terrill had said to Hermione only minutes before.

“We can magically regrow bones and repair them if they are broken, but we haven’t sorted out how to completely regrow everything else. Magic doesn’t heal everything,” Healer Terrill said.

“You can re-grow bones?” Taraneh asked, even more shocked. “Why, I would be out of a job, then, in the magic world?”

“Oh, certainly, you wouldn’t be without a job, Ms. Shayani! You would make a wonderful Healer,” Healer Terrill said. “Now, Harry. Your new magical leg. It will take up to a week to create. It will be created just for you and your needs, with charms and runes. The new leg will hopefully be able to work with the nerves in your residual limb, and function more normally for you. You will need to shower without it, and it would be best to remove it at night for bed. You will be much more comfortable.”

“What will it look like?” Harry asked, getting quite excited about the possibilities.

“It will not look like this,” Healer Terrill said as she gestured to his plastic and metal muggle prosthetic that did not really fit anymore. “We will try to mirror your right leg as much as possible so that it looks relatively alike, down to your toes. It will feel like something between plastic and skin, and with runes, it will grow with you. There will also be charms on it so that when you are around Muggles out in public (not your family), they will see a regular muggle prosthesis.”

“Will I be able to feel with my new leg? If it is reading my nerves?” Harry remained anxious and happy at the same time.

“Unfortunately, no, not at this time, but perhaps in the future. It is one of the things we are working on,” Healer Terrill said. “It will just be able to connect and help you move much better. Any other questions?”

Harry needed to ask Healer Terrill the question. The question that had been burning through his mind since yesterday. “If I had known about St. Mungo’s, and someone had been willing to bring me here right away, would you have been able to save my leg?” Taraneh reached over and put an arm lightly around Harry’s shoulders. She was aware he would ask this question and had encouraged him to do so. Minerva was interested in the answer to this question as well.

Healer Terrill, who had seen the muggle photos of Harry’s leg as she had studied his file, slowly shook her head, glanced at Tara and gathered her thoughts for a moment. Finally, she said, “The best I can say is a tentative maybe, but there would have been permanent damage that even magic couldn’t fully fix. Your leg was too. . . destroyed. Yes, we possibly could have regrown the bones, but would have been difficult for you to walk with the remainder of the damage, and quite painful. It was for the best, Harry.”
Harry looked down at his limb. He had sort of hoped to hear a different answer, but part of him was relieved that he did not need to pin blame on his Tara joon for cutting off his leg needlessly, and he could go on just blaming Uncle Vernon.

Healer Terrill thought for a moment, still thinking of Harry’s medical file. She believed Harry was extremely fortunate to even be alive, and that his magic had kept him that way, surviving blood loss, wet gangrene, and the other developing infections. His magic had not prevented any of these things but slowed them all down enough to survive. To change the subject, she offered to show them the new physiotherapy room, of which she was quite proud. While the children changing their clothes behind the curtains, Hannah offered to scan Taraneh.

“Oh, my,” Hannah said simply, moments later. Taraneh and Minerva looked at her face quickly. She wore a half smile. “Ms. Shayani, you have some latent magic. It was never strong enough when you were a child to be invited to attend Hogwarts, but it seems to be a bit stronger now. Perhaps it is your new connection to magic through the children.”

“I do? Would there a possibility of my being able to develop it more?” Taraneh asked, stunned. Her parents had not had magic, had they? Hannah looked at Minerva, as she was the much more experienced witch.

“Perhaps. I will need to check into this, Ms. Shayani. Most adults are not checked for magical abilities, so I do not know what is done in this case. I suppose it couldn’t hurt. I could perhaps teach you some beginning spells. We should see about getting you a wand first, to see if you will be able to work with one or not,” Minerva said, flummoxed.

“What?” Hermione nearly shrieked as she overheard. She had finished dressing in her summer top and long skirt. “Mum?”

“It seems I may have some magic, joon. I’ll have to wait to see,” Taraneh said with an edge of wonder on her voice. “Jadoo,” she whispered under her breath. Harry appeared moments later, his green eyes wide. He had not put on the ill-fitting prosthetic, on the Healer’s advice, and needed someone to pin up his trouser leg, but was shocked by what he had heard. Minerva used her wand to fix the trouser leg in place.

Finally, they all set off down the hall to the new PT room, Hermione chatting happily with Healer Terrill and her mother, now that her shock had mostly passed. Professor McGonagall asked Harry to walk with her so they could chat.

“Harry, since you are going to be a patient here, I have changed your name for the records,” Professor McGonagall said. She looked rather nervous and uncomfortable. “You are registered as Harrison Granger here at St. Mungo’s, even though I do understand you wish to keep the name Potter even if the Grangers adopt you. It’s temporary.”

“Why?” Harry asked with his brow furrowing.

“We don’t wish the press to know about you yet,” she stated simply. “The wizarding world is a very small world, to say the least.”

“What about my privacy?” he asked in disbelief. He watched and listened as Professor McGonagall sighed, and then told him a bit more about his parents’ lives, their death, and how Harry had survived to be the “Boy Who Lived.” Everyone in the Wizarding world knew something about him, and he was mentioned in magical history books now. It would be big news if the press found he was here at St. Mungo’s for treatment, and why. She warned him that fellow students would know of him at Hogwarts.

“Are you serious, Professor?” Harry finally asked, feeling astonished and suddenly angry. His family had been taken away from him by this Voldemort and knew they would all know who he was to some extent. They wouldn’t know what he was like on the inside, however. He held onto that thought for the moment. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Quite,” said Professor McGonagall. They caught up to the others in the Physio room.
Taraneh looked around the pleasant, new physiotherapy room and approved. The children could come here. She would figure out something to tell the ‘muggle’ physios. “I love your set-up here.”

“Thank you! I modeled it after the PT room at a nearby hospital here in London. I was hoping to ask you, Ms. Shayani, even before we found your possible magic, if you will consider the idea of being called in to consult on severe orthopaedic cases we receive here at St. Mungo’s? As I have said, we cannot heal everything with magic.”

“Oh! Oh, yes,” Taraneh said, with a slight gasp and no need to think it over. “I would like to, very much. I am certain we can work something out.”

“Wonderful! I am exploring the idea of working more with Muggle medical professionals as much as possible without breaking the Statute of Secrecy laws. Those such as yourself who have some knowledge of the magical world,” Healer Terrill said. “Now that we have a Floo connection with you, I’ll be in touch.” Healer Terrill soon had both Harry and Hermione standing at the parallel bars. She took some measurements of both. She said they were needed for the charms they hoped to implement on their devices. She took a few additional measurements for the creation of Harry’s leg.

“I will contact Minerva when we are ready with Harry’s leg, and we will do the work for Hermione’s brace modifications the same day. Harry, we’ll know better how your new leg will function with the nerve damage once we get it on you, although I guarantee that it will feel so much better than your old one,” Healer Terrill said. Harry smiled widely at the thought.

After they had Flooed home, and Harry was much more prepared this time so was not sick after, though still nauseated, Hermione remembered a final important question.
“May we share our magic and Hogwarts attendance with my Aunt Tina? Professor, I’m very close to her, and I would like to be able to write letters and such,” Hermione asked in a rush. “She’ll want to write letters to Harry, too.” Professor McGonagall considered this request for a moment before replying.

“Yes, but your aunt cannot tell anyone else. Understood? We have a Statute of Secrecy.”

“Yes. Thanks! I very much appreciate it. She’ll be happy for us. Hmm, could she have some latent magic, too?” Hermione asked the latter question mostly to herself. Minerva turned to Taraneh.

“I will accompany you back to St. Mungo’s when Hannah contacts us. This shall be in approximately a week. On 31 July, I shall meet you in London. I think it is too much to try to Floo your husband. I will show you how to get into Diagon Alley and accompany you all. Here is the address of the Leaky Cauldron. The children should be able to see the building. You may not, Ms. Shayani, as it is a magical building, and we are not yet sure if you will be able.” Minerva said. She used her wand to create a small piece of parchment containing the needed address. Taraneh accepted it, less shocked as she had been the day before now that she had had a bit more experience with the magical world.

“Meanwhile, I must get back to work. I will send a note on the parchment as to when Hermione and Harry may visit Hogwarts,” and with that, Professor McGonagall stepped into the floo.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Harry and Hermione worked with their tutor, read books (except now Hermione insisted that they should read a Shakespeare comedy together, while Harry still preferred the medical books he found on the shelves), listened to music (even some classical albums because Hermione said that sometimes her parents had taken her to Proms in London during previous summers; she loved to visit Royal Albert Hall, and had spent a great deal of time describing it to Harry), watched a few movies, and talked to Tina about their magical abilities. She also took drove them to the library afterwards, as Hermione was rather frightened about walking there again. Tina had to recover first from the shock, of course.

“Let me get this straight,” Tina said. “Hermione, you are a witch? And Harry’s a wizard?” Her mouth was still agape after twenty minutes, and they still hadn’t told her about the possibility that perhaps she had latent magic, too.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “Apparently, Harry and I’ve both performed accidental magic before, too.” She put an arm around her aunt’s shoulder as they sat next to each other on the couch.

“Yeah,” Harry piped up from his favorite chair. “See? My crutches are still mostly red. Maybe you didn’t notice? It was caused by my magic and I don’t want to change them back.”

“Harry, I thought that perhaps you had tried to paint them, to be honest,” Tina admitted as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear as it had been in her face. “You are both going away to a school in Scotland to learn how to control your magic, then? Only magic? What about other subjects you may need to study if you decide not to enter a magical career? Are there magical careers?” she asked, obviously a bit anxious but trying to hide it. Harry thought, in passing, that Tina was like her older sister in the way her ‘nerves’ showed.

“Hermione has thought about the same things. I think might like to be a doctor someday, and I now know the magical world has medical professionals called Healers, but they practice magical medicine most of time. I would like to combine them,” Harry said, suddenly very passionate about this career choice, even though he wasn’t even quite 11 years old yet. He knew he had time to change his mind, but he liked having a possible goal. “She thinks we ought to keep working on our muggle studies as well, at least during summer holidays. I’ve agreed as long as it’s not all the time. We need time for fun, too,” he added quietly.

“Yes, Harry. You are just learning about having fun like a child should, aren’t you?” Tina said, and leaned over to pat his knee in understanding.

“Just a few months ago, I thought fun was only for other people, and not for me,” Harry said, starting strong and dwindling to a whisper. “I didn’t deserve it.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, tears springing to her eyes. She reached for Harry and gave him a light hug.

“You know what? You two are going to go to that school and have fun. It seems that it will be a great adventure for you. I will miss you, both of you, so much,” Tina said with an arm around each child, “but I’ll write as much as possible, and you’ll write to me. Will you give me the address?”

“Aunt Tina, regular post doesn’t get delivered there! Letters come by owl,” Hermione almost shouted in excitement.

“How are we going to get letters to you then?” Tina asked. “I haven’t got an owl.”

“Mum and Dad promised we could get owls when we go get our magical school supplies on Harry’s birthday. They aren’t that excited to have owls in the house, but there is that mudroom that we never use near the rear. They can live there when they come home. They will also go with us to Hogwarts. They can carry our letters back and forth,” Hermione said eagerly.

“Where are you getting the supplies and owls?”

“Diagon Alley,” Hermione said promptly. “A secret magical place in London.”

“May I go with you? I assume your Mum and Dad are going as well,” Tina asked.

“We will ask Professor McGonagall,” Harry said and smiled up at Tina. “I would like it if you come.”

“I want to purchase owls for both of you so we may write and sends lots of letters,” Tina said. “And yes, I shall keep this all a secret. I still can’t believe it.”

“Did Mum tell you she has magic?” Hermione asked in a mischievous tone.

-break-

Early the next morning, Taraneh heard from Minerva McGonagall through the magical parchment. She wondered if the children would be available to visit Hogwarts that afternoon for tea and a tour. There were two available Floo locations at Hogwarts, one in the Headmaster’s office, and one in the Hospital Wing. She would be waiting for them in the Hospital Wing and made a note of what they should say to the Floo. Personally, Taraneh had to go work. She had to put the shocking idea of maybe having magic to the back of her mind so that she could concentrate on the profession she loved. She had several consultations and a relatively simple surgery on the docket for the day. Yesterday when she had arrived home from work, Tina was still at the house with the kids, after she had taken them to the library. She had wanted to talk to Taraneh to make sure the kids were not teasing or joking. Tina was now very sure she wanted to go with them to Diagon Alley.

Tim was in the shower. She woke the children to let them know she was leaving. Harry offered to make a good breakfast for Hermione and himself. Hermione promised to make sure they were both ready to go through the Floo that afternoon. They couldn’t wait!

It was much cooler outside than it had been recently, and Harry remembered that Hogwarts was somewhere in Scotland so he thought it might be chilly there. He dressed in a nice pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and pulled a forest green jumper over his head. He managed to get his own jean leg pinned up relatively well without injury. He contemplated his hair in the mirror hung over his desk. It would hardly lay down, and he was well-aware that he tended to run his hand through his hair much too often. Well, Professor McGonagall seems to like me, anyway. I wonder if Dad’s hair was like this, too?

Several minutes later, he was getting ingredients out of the refrigerator. He had decided to make porridge because he loved it, and scrambled eggs. They would have some of the lavash bread that Tina had brought over the day before with jam. He started the porridge heating, and then had to debate with himself if it was wise to hop with the raw eggs. If only he knew some magic to levitate them! He sighed. His new school could not start soon enough.

“I’ll carry the eggs over, Harry joon,” Hermione said as she came up behind him. She was wearing jeans as well, he noticed.

“Alright, thanks.” Harry was grateful for the help, but he was also ready for his new magical prosthetic leg already. New leg, new school, and . . . flying! He really could not have imagined this prior to a few days ago.

The eggs and cream were now in the frying pan, Harry stirring them as they cooked quickly. The porridge got the occasional stir. Hermione set the table for breakfast and got out strawberries for the porridge and jam for lavash. They heard Tim walking down the stairs.

“Dad, Harry is just finishing up the eggs. Do you have time to eat?” Hermione asked.

“I have 20 minutes before I must leave. Do you mind if I lend a hand, Harry? Take the eggs and porridge to the table?” Tim said.

“Yes, thank you, Tim,” Harry said and then added with a straight face, “As long as I don’t have to lend a leg!”

“Very funny, Harry sheytoonak*,” Tim replied with a chuckle. They all sat down together and ate. Harry admitted to himself he would miss mornings like this when he went to Hogwarts. After Tim hurried out the door, Harry sat companionably at the table with Hermione. They were on their own today, and he was happy to just listen to Hermione talk. Hermione talked about what she wanted to ask Professor McGonagall, and how she hadn’t had many friends in primary school, but she’d had one really good one up until a year ago, when the family moved away. They had tried to stay in touch for a while, but then Hermione was quite busy with her studies, and then her accident happened. She wasn’t sure why she had trouble making friends. She mentioned she could be bossy and a know-it-all, even though she did NOT really know it all, and then Harry couldn’t help it. He snorted in laughter.

“Harry!” she said. “That is not nice!”

“I am not laughing at you, Hermione,” he said, trying to reign in his laughter, but failing. “I am laughing at the way you said it!”

“I-I suppose the way I s-said it, could be amusing,” she said, stumbling over her words, but Harry’s laughter was contagious and soon she was giggling, despite herself.

“Help me at school, Harry? Please? To make friends,” Hermione begged. Harry calmed down, attempting to become more serious.

“Of course, I will, if you help me,” Harry said, holding out a hand. Hermione laughed and they shook on it.

When the time arrived to Floo to Hogwarts, Harry went first so Hermione could help him get in the fireplace without his crutches (which he had shrunk with the charm Professor McGonagall had placed and put them in a very deep pocket.) When he arrived, he realized that perhaps it would have been better to Floo with Hermione to hold on with, as he fell forward immediately. He did not fall, however. McGonagall was there, and she used her wand to catch him, and float him over to a nearby chair. He wore a disbelieving expression on his face that took a few minutes to wear off. Meanwhile, Hermione came through, landing on her feet. She took out her miniature cane and enlarged it.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall, I see we made it here safely. Oh, my, this hospital wing looks so old fashioned,” Hermione said with some lack of tact. “Oh, Harry, are you feeling sick again?”

“I’ll be fine in a minute,” Harry groaned. “I need to get out my crutches.” McGonagall Summoned them from his pocket once again, and put them in Harry’s hand, so that he could unshrink them himself.

“We are nearly alone in the castle at the moment,” McGonagall said with her stern cheeriness. “I am keeping it running while most of the staff is on holiday. Even Madam Pomfrey, who runs our Hospital Wing, is away now. You both must meet Madam Pomfrey when school begins. Oh, and while you are the only ones here, you may address me as Minerva. Around others and during the school term, please address me as Professor McGonagall.” The children agreed reluctantly, and then she led Harry and Hermione out of the Hospital wing, and to the Great Hall. It was amazing already (the ceiling showed the weather outside!), but Minerva told them that it would be even more amazing the night of the feast. She told them of the Sorting but asked them to please not tell any other first year students how it is done, exactly. Harry nodded in agreement while Hermione was not so sure. Harry could see that she would really want to talk about it now. Finally, she agreed, and Harry saw Minerva try to hide a smile.
Before they went to her office for tea, they saw many other places of interest within the castle. Harry thought it was wonderful! She told them more about the four Houses and let them into the Gryffindor common room just for a brief look, as she was that House’s Head. The only real issue Harry could see was that Gryffindor was on the seventh floor! That was a lot of stairs, and many of the staircases moved.

“M-Minerva? I know that you said you would adapt the stairs for us somehow, but how about turning off the moving staircases? Sometimes, at least?” He was exhausted and anxious already from hopping up and down the ‘normal’ stairs. He was not sure how it would all be even after he got his new magical leg, at first anyway.

“Hmm, I can see that, Harry. I don’t know why the stairs do that, except that this castle is imbued with so much magic that it just seems to happen. I will speak to the Headmaster upon his return about this issue. I believe there are some alternate routes that do not involve the moving stairs, but you are right, Harry. Something should be done. We should have made Hogwarts more accessible long ago,” Minerva said, adding to her list of mental notes.

“I assume there is a library here?” Hermione said, switching topics to her most passionate one.

“Of course! You will have plenty here to read,” Minerva said. She led them along. The library was on the way to her office.
“Do you have fiction in the library?” Harry asked eagerly. He was suddenly in the mood for fiction, now that he was inside this fantasy castle.

“A small collection of wizarding fiction, I believe,” Minerva replied. “If you prefer muggle fiction, you will need to bring it for yourself.” Hermione and Harry glanced at each other happily. Any reason to go to a bookstore!

The door to the library was dark, much to Hermione’s disappointment, and Minerva said that Madam Pince was also away on holiday. Harry could see that Hermione was getting a bit worked up and wanted to argue her way into the library, so he did the very brotherly thing, and shoved the tip of his crutch into the side of her foot. She made a face at him, but closed her mouth. Minerva pretended she didn’t see any of this. The three continued to her office. As they arrived, Hermione could not help herself.

“Why don’t you have tours for new students, Professor?” Hermione said, being more formal than she had been. “I think other students, especially if their families aren’t magical, would like a tour. It is very easy to get lost here. Do prefects give tours?” She sat down on the couch in Minerva’s office.

“Well, no, not outside the tour of the House you to which you are sorted. It was done when I was a student here, but since I have been teaching here, no,” Minerva said, feeling suddenly embarrassed at her seeming lack of interest in changing things at Hogwarts. “Students are just expected to learn where to go and what to do nowadays, unfortunately.”

“I’d like to change that, then, Professor,” Hermione said. Harry sat beside her in Minerva’s office. “And don’t you try to talk me out of it, Harry!” Harry gave her a look. Minerva made another few notes on her parchment list, and then replied,

“Since it is too late to offer summer holiday tours, what would you think about tours for first year students the morning after everyone arrives. Either I or another Head of House would lead it, with some of the prefects to assist. Not even I know every room and space in this castle, but perhaps we could show everyone some of the most used locations so there is no question where classrooms are and such. I think this is the best we would be able to do with this much notice,” she said. “And you, Ms. Granger, can assist me with arrangements for next summer and next year’s students.”

Hermione looked quite pleased that she was able to make a difference already. Harry wanted to roll his eyes because she was going to be insufferable the rest of the day for this. He felt Minerva’s eyes on him briefly. She had noticed his reaction.

“Mr. Potter, you are going to hear many times that your look like your father, but I am going to tell you now, that you are quite like your mother in the ways you act and behave,” Minerva said.

“Really? Like my mum?” Harry wanted to hear more. He watched as Minerva took an album from a shelf. She placed it on his lap, and he opened it. The pictures moved!

“Wizarding photos move, just like the moving portraits earlier,” Minerva said. Both Harry and Hermione eagerly looked at the subjects of the picture smiling and laughing at the camera. “Turn about three pages over. There are some of your parents, Harry.” He did so and came face to face with his mum and dad. They were hugging each other and smiling for the camera.

“This was at their graduation from Hogwarts,” Minerva said softly. “Your mum and dad were amongst my favorite students.” Harry felt Hermione move an arm over his shoulders. Oh, he felt like he wanted to cry again. He used to never cry, and lately he seemed to be a faucet. He traced the edge of the moving photo with his fingers. He did look like both, really. His eyes slid to the page opposite. There were two photos there. One looked like a team photo, and the one below was his dad flying. On a broom! It was mainly him but someone else on a broom flew by, and then his dad laughed. Harry wondered what had happened to make him laugh. He must have vocalized the question because Minerva smiled widely.

“They are playing Quidditch. Each House has a team. Your dad was very good at it. The other who made him laugh is Sirius Black. He was your dad’s best friend. Those two got in so much trouble together, but they almost always got away with it,” Minerva said fondly.

“Is Sirius Black alive?” Hermione spoke up while Harry stared at the photos.

“That is a long story, but the short version is yes, he is alive, but is in Azkaban prison.” With that answer, Hermione’s mind started working as if this was a plot in a book. Harry, meanwhile, decided he ought to outright ask,

“Why?” He lifted his eyes to Minerva’s. She’s like a substitute grandma, he thought.

“He betrayed your parents to Voldemort on the night of their deaths, and your survival,” Minerva said. “Although, Harry?” She moved to Harry’s side. He sniffled.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think he would have done this. It was not like Sirius. It was not in his personality to do something like that.” Hermione jumped with this statement and asked across Harry,

“Was there a trial? Is a transcript available? I would like to read it!” Minerva thought about it. In fact, she couldn’t remember if there was a trial or not. It was during the War, and Harry defeated Voldemort somehow, and then they left Harry on the Dursley’s doorstep. Was there in fact a trial? She did not think so. After almost 10 years, she still could not believe that Sirius had betrayed the Potters.

“No, he did not get a trial,” Minerva replied slowly. “He was thrown in the wizard prison without one, I believe. It was the War back then. He was assumed guilty.”

“That’s not at all fair, even during a war,” Hermione huffed, while Harry held her hand. He was trying to stop crying. Again.

“No, it isn’t. I’ll look into it,” Minerva murmured. She mentally added looking into this to her task list, and soon. “Well, let’s put this away for now, and have our tea. Have either of you ever tried pumpkin juice?”

BREAK

Early one morning a few days later, Taraneh heard from Minerva McGonagall again through the magical parchment. Fortunately, Taraneh had the morning off, and she would be able to accompany the children to the magical hospital again. She did, however, need to be back by the afternoon to prep for a scheduled surgery, and in the evening, she would be on call. She had been intrigued by all that the children had mentioned about their visit to Hogwarts. She agreed with Hermione that things sounded quite old fashioned, but she remained willing to let them attend, particularly as Hermione was making plans already. Harry had brought back a moving photo of his biological parents.

Harry, when he heard where they were going, began bouncing in the hard kitchen chair over breakfast. He was feeling happy again, because he was going to get his magical prosthethic. Maybe it really would work better.

They all hurried to get dressed for the morning. Madam Pomphrey had told them to wear something comfortable, what they might wear to muggle PT, in fact. Harry pulled on a pair of loose denim shorts, as it was very warm out today, and a red t-shirt, to match his crutches. Hermione was not a particular fan of shorts, but she dressed in a pair anyway.
At five to nine in the morning, they stood in front of the Floo, Harry had already shrunk his crutches, and was holding onto Tara’s arm.

“Mum, I think it will be best if you floo with Harry, so he doesn’t fall on the other side. I am fine on my own,” Hermione said.
Moments later, Harry and Taraneh had landed in the office. Healer Terrill looked up from her desk with a smile because she could immediately see that Harry was about to burst in anticipation. She stifled a laugh and sent a Patronus message to the specialists that were working on other areas of the floor. There was one to work with Harry, and one to work with Hermione.

Hermione came through the Floo then, appearing very calm. She pulled her cane out and enlarged it, now ready for business. Harry was still getting himself together, excited, and mildly pleased with himself that he did not get sick this time. Minerva arrived shortly thereafter, and then they all moved to the main physiotherapy room.

Soon, a blond-haired woman walked in the door, strode directly to Harry, and said,

“Hello, Mr. Potter, I am pleased to meet you. I am Dr. Stone. Let’s see if we can get you back on two feet today.”

“That would be great, Dr. Stone. Are you a Healer or a non-magical doctor?” He asked.

“Good question, Mr. Potter. I am both. I wanted to go to muggle medical school as well as learn all the magical techniques. I believe both ways can assist all of us for the better,” Dr. Stone said.

“I think I may want to do something like that one day,” Harry said quietly.

“The small group of us that exist in Britain would be pleased to welcome you to our ranks someday,” Dr. Stone said. It was decided that Healer Terrill would stay with them, and Tara would go with Hermione to the other side of the room with a Charms expert. Minerva decided to sit back and observe, while making notes for the proposals she hoped to write for Hogwarts. She was still debating what to do about Sirius’ situation.

“Now then, let’s see.” Dr. Stone took a case that Harry hadn’t noticed before and opened it on the table nearby. Harry’s jaw dropped open. It looked nothing like his muggle prosthetic. It almost looked like his whole right leg, except mirrored. Dr. Stone told him that it weighed less than his right leg, though, and that would take some getting used to.

“Unlike your muggle prosthetic, you will not need a sheath or anything on your stump. This one works on reading your own nerve signals, and so it will need direct contact with your skin. Most of the charms have already been worked into the leg, so it should feel soft against your skin. The cushioning charms are relatively new inventions. There are also charms to wick away moisture and prevent skin irritation to your stump,” Dr. Stone explained. “First we shall see if we need to adjust anything.” She held out the leg, made of material unknown to Harry. He took it in his hands. It felt odd, like skin, but not quite like his skin.

“May I put it on now?” he asked politely, though he itched to put it on immediately, if he knew how. He set it on the floor, directly in front of his residual limb, and looked up imploring with his green eyes.

“Yes,” Dr. Stone said. “You can pull it on, or stand and step into it, so to speak. If you try the step in method, use your crutches please, for balance.” Harry decided he wanted to try the second option. Healer Terrill pulled up his shorts leg and help guide his limb into the soft but firm prosthetic. Dr. Stone watched, and then said, “Don’t be afraid to push it all the way down. Cushioning charms will engage, and then the leg will attach to your stump.”

Harry felt his limb slide all the way in as far as it could go, and then a soft locking sensation of sorts. The prosthetic came almost up to his hip. It didn’t feel tight, however, as he thought it might, and yes, it felt cushioned. It felt so much better than his other prosthetic, not even walking on it, just wearing it!

“I am going to activate the growth charm now,” Dr. Stone said pointing her wand. “I believe you have grown in the past week.” Harry felt the new leg push up on his left side a bit, and he felt more balanced even than he did before. Was he really growing that quickly? He had been eating better since moving in with the Shayani-Grangers, admittedly.

“This feels great,” he said in wonder, looking down at his legs. The new leg had the matching trainer on it to match the one on his other foot. Tara joon must have brought it along. His new leg, even though magical, didn’t quite look entirely ‘real’ in his eyes, but that was okay.

“I’m going to levitate you over to the parallel bars now, Harry,” Dr. Stone said. Harry felt himself being lifted off the ground, still holding his crutches, and was gently set back on his feet just before the bars. He steadied himself. Healer Terrill took over the work at the bars as she magically altered the height for him, while Dr. Stone said that she was just going to watch to be sure no more adjustments or charms were needed immediately.

“Harry, are you ready? Grab the bars and I will take your crutches,” Healer Terrill said. Harry did as instructed. Healer Terrill set them to the side and said, “All right then, I would like you to put weight on your prosthetic and bring your right leg forward to take a step.” She demonstrated for him what she wished him to do.

He was suddenly anxious. What if this leg also did not work the way he wanted? What if he failed to make it work? Trying valiantly to put these anxious thoughts aside and gripping the bars tightly, he moved weight over to his magic prosthetic, lifting his right foot to take the step. As he did, he felt the prosthetic responding, bending his new left knee and ankle. He wondered if he could step forward with it, so he shifted his weight back to his right leg, and lifted his residual limb, thinking about what he wanted to do. The prosthetic got the message and came forward relatively smoothly.

“Seriously?” Harry exclaimed.

“Have another go,” Healer Terrill said as she grinned at him. He did, and eventually he made it all the way to the other end of the bars after a few tenuous moments when it seemed the leg did not want to lift enough.

“How is it feeling overall, Harry?” Dr. Stone asked. She grinned at him, too. It seemed they were all happy about this.

“It doesn’t feel like my other prosthetic at all. It’s so much better. I can actually walk with it,” Harry said excitedly.

“Well, Harry, then if you don’t think we need to adjust anything more, I will take my leave for now. If there are any issues that come about, please let Healer Terrill, Professor McGonagall, or Madam Pomfrey know. They know how to contact me,” Dr. Stone said, coming over to shake his hand. “I’m due at the muggle hospital soon, otherwise I’d stay.”

“Thank you!” Harry breathed. After the doctor had left, Healer Terrill instructed Harry to walk back the length of bars he had come down. Slowly but surely he did so, even though there were a few times his prosthesis seemed reluctant to respond. Harry tried to be patient. After a short rest in a chair Healer Terrill had put next to the bars, he was ready to try again, but he didn’t want to hold the bars. Healer Terrill seemed dubious about this. She thought it was too soon, but she let him try nonetheless. He pulled himself up with the bars and then let go after getting his balance but let his hands hover over the bars. Ever so slowly, he leaned on his real leg, and moved his prosthetic leg forward. It bent at the knee, and it seemed the ankle was in on the action, too. Harry placed his weight on it and stepped with his real leg. Encouraged, he tried again. The second try, he stumbled and tripped, unable to get the foot off the floor, but caught himself on the bars.

He was suddenly exhausted.

“Can you get yourself turned around?” Healer Terrill asked. “Come back and sit down. Let’s talk.”

“All right,” Harry said, carefully turning around and taking the steps back to his seat slowly, watching both feet carefully and gripping the bars tightly.

“This is going to take some time, Harry. I don’t want you to become discouraged, but you can’t give up your crutches yet. Maybe by the time you head to Hogwarts just over a month from now you will be able to, but I cannot promise even that. You need to come back for therapy every day before you go to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall on your birthday, which I believe is five days from now,” Healer Terrill said. “Because you still can’t feel this new leg, it will take some getting used to. I will try to help you figure out how high you need to lift the leg, and how to better get the message through your nerves to your prosthetic. If we continue to have problems, I will consult with Dr. Stone.”

“Yes,” Harry replied, taking it all in and refusing to let it get him down. “I know this will take some work, but seriously, this leg is already ten times nicer than my old one. I don’t mind using my crutches longer really. I am rather used to them now.”

“At home, practice using your new prosthetic as long as you can tolerate it. With your crutches to help with balance. Take it off when bathing, swimming, and at night in bed. You will be permitted to wear it while flying at school and should, in fact, make it easier.”

“Really? I already think I’ll like flying,” Harry said.

“Having balanced legs should help a great deal,” Healer Terrill said. “Right. Let me show you how to take your leg off, and then let’s go join the others.”

“I want to see what Hermione’s doing.” He noticed her on the other side of the room, walking on steps without the cane. She was even bending her bad knee, due to the charms, it seemed.

“It will just take a moment to explain the removal of your leg, Harry, and then yes, we may go over.”

--Break--

The next few days passed by quickly. Healer Terrill took Hermione for therapy, too, so Harry and Hermione floo’d there together. They both worked hard at their respective workouts, usually arriving home perspiring just as much as they had with muggle therapy. Even though his new prosthetic was so much better than the old one, Harry still struggled with walking with it without additional support. He wished he could catch up with Hermione.

“Harry,” Healer Terrill said to get his attention as he was looking rather down. “I remember that your hip was injured. There were some old fractures there.”

“Yes, two years ago.” Harry said. He shrugged his now toned shoulders. “Sometimes my hip does hurt after a while. It’s not that bad. I can handle pain.”

“Any pain is bad, Harry. I think I am going to do a more in-depth diagnostic scan on your hip than we did before. Remember I mentioned possible nerve problems.”

“Alright,” he agreed. After Healer Terrill helped him onto a therapy bed, he laid back and closed his eyes. He felt the magic flowing over him.
After several minutes and Hermione having come over after she finished therapy on the other side of the room, Healer Terrill was done. Harry opened his eyes, but he was still very relaxed and remained reclined.

“Did you find something?” he asked with a rather sleepy and lazy tone to his voice.

“In fact, I did find something,” Healer Terrill said. “I found that you had two nearly imperceptible fractures in your hip and a hairline fracture in your pelvis, plus some ligament damage. The ligaments healed, but not as well as we thought. I believe there is some nerve damage stemming from this injury. How did it happen?”

“The time that Dudley, my cousin, pushed me down the stairs. I landed on this hip and it really hurt, but I had to put up with it. I couldn’t let Uncle Vernon know. I just had to do my chores anyway.”

Still thinking, Healer Terrill commented, “You were rather malnourished, too. Your bones were more brittle then than they are now.”

“He’s well-fed at our house,” Hermione said with wide smile and toss of her dark curly hair. She was finished with therapy for the day.

“And magic helped Harry heal faster, too,” Healer Terrill said. “However, it did not heal him that well in this case. Yes, enough to even run occasionally, but Harry, did you ever feel like you stumbled more after that happened?”

Harry thought about that, trying to remember. “Yes,” he finally said. “It didn’t happen all the time, just over the first year after. Last year, it usually felt fine, and it didn’t bother so much. I think I got used to it and was able to stop myself from falling most of the time.”

“You learned how to compensate,” Healer Terrill explained after hearing Harry’s description. “Then, after your leg was amputated, using crutches probably felt freeing to you, because you didn’t have to worry subconsciously about your hip. I think this has been a part of the issue with you being able to learn to walk with either of the prosthetic legs. I cannot fix your nerves, however, but perhaps we’ll be able to have Dr. Stone work on how to go about adding some more charms or runes to your prosthetic. We may contact the Charms professor at Hogwarts, as well. I am hopeful that something can be done. Meanwhile, we need to get you two home. Your birthday’s tomorrow, Harry, and you both have your trip to Diagon Alley. Continue using the crutches and keep taking proper steps with your prosthetic. Hermione, I would suggest your cane for tomorrow, otherwise you will become tired, but if you want to try, shrink it, but have it with you.”

She sent them home, and wearily sat down for a few minutes before her next patient popped in.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Diagon Alley (It truly cannot be named anything else!)

Harry was blown away by Diagon Alley. He could feel the magic here, for one thing, more so than even at Hogwarts. The second thing was the somewhat old-fashioned look of the Alley, which should not have surprised him since the visit to Hogwarts, but it did. It’s a fairy tale, he thought. It was also his eleventh birthday, and he did not need to do chores! It was a cool, misty morning, and yet, they did not feel the raindrops. Professor McGonagall (as they were out in wizarding public) had cast some spells to keep them all dry. He had put on his best pair of jeans and a nice blue button-down shirt under his jacket. It was the first birthday that he could remember that he could dress up in clothes which fit.
Professor McGonagall had explained earlier about Harry’s family vault at Gringotts to Tara and Tim prior to their arrival. They had all worn shocked looks on their faces, especially when they saw the goblins who ran the place. Tim exchanged muggle pounds for wizarding money (galleons and knuts), which Professor McGonagall then explained to them all. Harry and Professor McGonagall went with Griphook to the vault in a crazy cart where Harry retrieved some of his biological family’s money. He still felt surprised over the fact he was not poor as he had always been led to believe. Seemingly, Vernon had never known of it, and Harry was glad for this.
Now they were gathered in front of Madam Malkin’s shop.

“You will both need sets of robes for school,” Professor McGonagall informed them. “You will be fitted here. After this we will make our way to the other shops. I understand that the pet shop will be one of the stops. I suggest that we end our day with there.” She smiled at the them, and added in a low voice, “Since it is Harry’s birthday, I daresay a visit to Fortescue’s Ice Cream will be in order, as well.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly. He had already been recognized in The Leaky Cauldron by the pub owner. He hoped that no one else would notice him. Perhaps they would only see his crutches without thinking about him being Harry Potter, because based on what he had learned so far, people in the magical world did not expect to see THE Harry Potter with crutches. He patted his fringe down over his scar, again. Professor McGonagall gave him a quick nod and ushered them all into the robe shop. Fortunately, they were the only customers present.

After they were finished being fitted for robes, they went to buy their cauldrons, ingredients, and other school supplies. Professor McGonagall told them more about Quidditch, the popular wizarding sport, after they passed a shop selling brooms. Harry was by now quite ready to try flying! Hermione was thrilled when they finally reached Flourish and Botts, to buy her beloved books. They both took their own copies of the needed textbooks, and then searched for other books to help understand this new world they were entering. Hermione picked out several, including Hogwarts: A History, even though Professor McGonagall had told them some of the history during their visit. She told Harry he could read it when she finished with it, probably in two days. Harry grinned because now he knew Hermione well enough to know that in two days’ time, she will have completed the book and several of the others as well. Harry picked up a few he thought looked interesting such as Quidditch Through the Ages and a book on beginning healing spells. He was determined to learn all about Quidditch, since it involved flying and his father had played it. He suspected he would be able to fly better than run. Professor McGonagall shrunk their purchases to make the carrying of them easier.

Professor McGonagall led them to Fortescue’s now, for a much-needed break before getting their wands and pets. Tara was becoming more and more eager to try out wands herself, but admitted to herself that a chance to sit down was welcome. Tina wondered if she could try a wand herself, just to see if she might have magic. More than the children, the three mostly muggle adults were somewhat overwhelmed. Harry was physically exhausted from walking and from trying to avoid people on the street who might either knock him over or recognize him. Hermione kept talking about everything she saw and realized that her throat was a touch sore. Had she really been talking so much?

“Hello, Florean,” McGonagall said to the shopkeeper as they entered. There were only a few other customers seated.

“Minerva! It has been a while,” Mr. Fortescue said in greeting, looking up from the counter he had been using his wand to clean.

“May we use the private room while we enjoy your ice cream?” Professor McGonagall seemed to give him a meaningful look. Mr. Fortescue looked rather amused, Harry thought.

“Of course, you may. Right this way,” he said as he led the group to a small hidden room next to the main shop. As he handed them a conjured list of the flavours available, he told them that he would be back to get their orders. Before he left, he glanced at Harry, and said, “Your secret is safe with me, Minerva.”

“Am I a secret, Professor McGonagall?” Harry asked rather absently while taking a seat, his mind already on his flavour selection. He wanted chocolate ice cream. He had always wanted it as a child but had only had it once before. Tara and Tim did not approve of sweets very often. Harry had already tried to argue that ice cream was a source of calcium, and wouldn’t that help both his teeth and bones?

“If you were truly a secret, I wouldn’t have brought you to Diagon Alley. However, I also know that you don’t want people recognizing you. That’s one of the reasons I asked for some private space for a bit. I also suspect your family just needs a quiet rest, while you, Mr. Potter, need time off your leg, correct? “

“Yes,” Harry admitted. “Hermione does, too, I think.” Professor McGonagall pulled potion vials out of her robe pockets and passed one to them each. Hermione looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He interpreted her look as a question about why he had said that, although he was correct. He gave a tiny shrug in reply. He should have let her speak for herself, he knew.

“Here, drink this. It’s a pain potion.” Harry swallowed quickly. Though it tasted terrible, it cleared up his pain so well that by the time their ice cream had arrived, that Harry had a renewed sense of excitement. His magical prosthetic was working well, apart from the nerve issues, and that, despite cushioning charms, his residual limb still hurt quite a lot at times while in the prosthetic. It was probably caused, too, by the nerve issue, and the way the prosthetic was constantly trying to connect with all the nerves but could not. He hoped Healer Terrill and Dr. Stone could put together a solution soon.

They all merrily ate their ice creams when they appeared at their table. Professor McGonagall told them more about the Wizarding world, the school, and even small bits of information about some of the other professors. The adults asked as many questions as Harry and Hermione. Aunt Tina asked if it was appropriate to get the children each an owl, or if one owl was all that was needed to be shared if the two were family. Professor McGonagall’s eyes sparkled slightly as she said that it was perfectly acceptable for each of them to have their own owl, as she was sure that both Harry and Hermione would certainly like to write plenty of letters home.

Another surprise came next. Harry noticed that Professor McGonagall had taken something very small from her pocket. She enlarged it and handed it over to Tara.
Taraneh held the wrapped box out to Harry. “It is your eleventh birthday, and we wanted to do something very special for you for first birthday with us, besides come here to Diagon Alley. Professor McGonagall helped us adjust this gift magically so that it may be used around the magic at Hogwarts. Electronic items don’t normally work there because the magic interferes, but this is something we know you have wished for.”

Harry eagerly opened the gift and found a small cassette player with headphones. A Walkman! He had indeed always wanted one of these so he could listen to his music at any time. He smiled widely at everyone.

“Thank you all so much!” he said. There was a card in the box as well. He opened the card and saw a very personalized note from his guardians about how much they loved him and considered him their son. He looked up with tears in his eyes. Tara was brushing tears from hers, and Tim reached out to touch Harry’s arm.

“When we get home, I have mix-tapes for you, Harry,” Tim said. “I have been making them when I get the chance. They contain many of your favorites in addition to other music that I think you should listen to. You may take these to Hogwarts with you.”

“Thank you, Tim! Am I really allowed to use this at Hogwarts, Professor?” Harry asked Professor McGonagall. She smiled at him rather lovingly.

“Since it makes you very happy, yes, I am quite willing to allow you to use it. Just pay attention and study in your classes. If I feel you are losing focus, then we will have to reconsider the idea,” she said.

“Yes, I can do that,” Harry said.

“As well, please don’t let your roommates see much of it. They will want exceptions to the rules, too,” Professor McGonagall said with her stern tone of voice. Harry nodded.

“I’ll make sure he studies,” Hermione said confidently.

“And Harry, in the magical world, I have applied to be your magical guardian. It was not clear if Headmaster Dumbledore was your magical guardian or not, even though he placed you with the Dursleys. I should have magical guardianship within the week,” Professor McGonagall said. “I have connections in the Ministry of Magic.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore?” Harry asked. He had never thought to question how he came to be with the Dursleys, but it appeared he should have.

“Is there someone else Harry should have been given to?” Hermione asked. She looked like she was itching to go look up information in the books they had purchased, or just grill the professor on the spot.

“Well, there were a few possibilities, but none of them seemed a prudent choice at the time,” Minerva said lightly. She wanted to have words with Dumbledore before she said anything further to the children. She knew that Sirius Black was Harry’s godfather, and perhaps one day soon she would be able to tell Harry about him.

Harry seemed to accept this for the moment and suggested they should go to the wand shop next. They all gathered up their things, expressed gratitude to Mr. Fortescue, and exited the shop. Right outside was a giant man walking past them.

“Professor McGonagall,” the man said. “Fancy runnin’ into yeh here.”

“Hagrid, hello,” Professor McGonagall said kindly. “What are you here for?”

“Dumbledore sent me on a secret mission,” Hagrid whispered loudly. “Who do we ‘ave ‘ere?”

“We have two new Hogwarts students, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Children, this is Hagrid. He is Groundskeeper and Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts.”

“Nice to meet yeh both,” he said, shaking hands with them. “Harry! I knew your parents when they went t’Hogwarts. I remember when yeh were a jus’ a baby.”

“Nice to meet you,” both Harry and Hermione murmured.

“After yeh two get t’Hogwarts, I’ll invite yeh to tea at me place,” Hagrid said. Minerva asked to speak privately to Hagrid for a few minutes, wherein she found out that Albus was still away working on something but had sent a message to Hagrid to retrieve an item from Gringotts. It was seemed Albus did not know about Harry’s state now. Perhaps he never had.

Professor McGonagall accompanied the family into Ollivander’s Wands. Hermione went first and seemed to match with her perfect wand after only three tries, although the measuring had taken long enough. She was very happy with her vinewood with dragon heartstring core. Mr. Ollivander told them that the wand chooses the wizard, and Hermione
seemed skeptical, but she did admit later that maybe Ollivander was not completely mad. Harry was next.

“Harry Potter,” Mr. Ollivander said. “I was expecting you in any day now. You have your mother’s eyes. Very good. Her wand was ten and a quarter inches long, made of willow, good for charms. Your father’s was made of mahogany. Let’s get you measured now.”

Harry let his arm and other body parts be measured, although why the measuring was necessary, he was unclear. Finally, Mr. Ollivander gathered several boxes of wands and brought them to the counter. Harry balanced carefully while he tried wand after wand. He swished them, but nothing seemed to happen like the sparks Hermione had produced with her perfect wand. What if there wasn’t the perfect wand for him? Maybe he wouldn’t be permitted to have a wand after all. Panic began to rise in his chest, but then he saw Mr. Ollivander’s face, which looked very happy as he brought along another wand. Harry managed to calm his breathing down because Mr. Ollivander did not seem particularly worried.

“Hmm, I wonder if this one will work for you. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.” He laid it carefully in Harry’s hand. Harry swished this one in the air just like all the others. It was warm in his fingers, and caused not just sparks but small, colorful firework-type explosions. Mr. Ollivander took it from him, placed it back in the box and wrapped it up for safe keeping.

“This is a very special wand. Not many wands contain a phoenix feather, Mr. Potter. Take care of it well,” Mr. Ollivander said softly, and a bit creepily, in Harry’s opinion.

“I will,” Harry promised. He handed Hermione his wand box so she could put it in with hers in the knapsack on her shoulder. They both looked expectantly at their mum.

“I suppose it’s my turn,” Taraneh said nervously. Minerva patted her hand and led her up to Ollivander’s counter.

“Ollivander, Ms. Shanyani shows some evidence of latent magic. We wish to find a wand for her to try and to see what we can develop,” Minerva explained succinctly.

“Ah, Ms. Shayani,” he said smiling gently at her. “Perhaps your family had magic generations ago, but became squibs, I suspect. Persian ancestry?” At Taraneh’s small nod, Ollivander continued, “The so-called Three Kings were Persian as I am sure you know, and they were wizards. Moving on, I must measure you, as well.” He set about doing it, while Taraneh looked highly amused. Harry wanted to laugh for some reason (couldn’t think why) but decided that it was not really appropriate. Hermione was watching her mum closely.

Taraneh tried several wands with no sign of sparks. She was beginning doubt why she was doing this when the shopkeeper brought out two more boxes and told her to pick one based on how she felt. She chose the one on the left because she felt a vague pull toward it.

“You have chosen willow with unicorn hair core, 11 ½ inches.” He took the wand and presented it to her. She took it in her hand and waved it, gasping when sparks flew. Hermione clapped, Harry’s jaw dropped, and Minerva smiled. It appeared she was going to have an adult student. It had been a long time. Mr. Ollivander re-boxed the wand and passed it to Hermione to place in her bag with the others.

“May I try one?” Tina asked hesitantly. “Taraneh is my sister. I’d like to find out if I have hidden magic as well.”

“Certainly,” Mr. Ollivander said. Tina tried several wands, but finally had to give up. It did not seem she was magical.

They left the wand shop, eager to look at owls at the pet shop. Minerva told them she had another quick errand to complete, and that she would meet them there in fifteen minutes.

“We’ll send loads of letters,” Hermione promised as they stepped inside the store.

Aunt Tina laughed, already over her disappointment. “I shall expect them. You may send your mum and dad letters also, I suppose.”

Harry left the store with a snowy white owl and decided that he would look through some of the new books to find an appropriate name for her. Hermione found a somewhat small, calm owl that was brown feathered but had a vaguely orange sheen on the edges. She found the play of colours fascinating.

After their shopping was complete, they re-entered The Leaky Cauldron again. Unlike the morning, it was filled with customers, and though he was aware he should expect it, he was still surprised when a several customers recognized him. This caused the commotion that Harry had wanted to avoid if possible. Professor McGonagall took charge, and quickly put a protection spell over Harry, and ushered them out into Muggle London. She accompanied them to their car, making sure that no one saw them. Harry noticed her doing very quiet magic. He hoped he could be that good someday. She protected them while both Hermione and Harry got themselves settled in the car’s back seat and Aunt Tina squeezed in beside them. She handed the children their owls in cages to hold on their laps. She placed their bags of shopping in the boot, enlarging them back to normal size as she did so. She waved them off. Harry waved out the window at Professor McGonagall until they were down the street on their way home.

That evening, they sat around the kitchen table, enjoying albaloo polo (cherry rice) and meatballs accompanied by yogurt, with asparagus on the side, as Harry had requested it all. He loved Persian food, but some vegetables he frankly adored, like asparagus. He had never gotten enough of it growing up with the Dursleys, but the Grangers tried to keep it on hand for him, and he experimented with different ways of preparing it. He had not always liked cooking for the Dursleys, but here in his new home, it was great fun. He did not have to worry about doing something wrong and being punished for it. This was the best thing about this year’s birthday, really. His new home and family, and the chance to start over at a new school where he would learn magic. He had a Walkman and a box of cassette tapes from Tim. He had already slipped the box into his new trunk. His new schoolbooks were on a shelf in his room. He would start reading tonight in bed.

“Alright, Harry, time for birthday cake!” Tara joon exclaimed as she brought a chocolate frosted round cake to the table. Eleven lit candles graced the top of the cake in a circle. He felt his eyes widen as she set it in front of him. His new family sang “Happy Birthday” and then urged him to blow out all the candles. He was thrilled to blow them all out on just one deep breath.

Chapter Text

End of Summer Holidays

The next few weeks went by with more therapy with Healer Terrill for Harry and Hermione. Healer Terrill contacted Taraneh to set up a time to meet about being a consultant at St. Mungo’s, and when she had a morning free, Tara floo’d herself over to meet with Hannah in her office. Hannah was quite pleased to find that Taraneh indeed had some magic! Taraneh would be studying magic in addition to her medical knowledge, and she was quite delighted with his new path her life was taking. They also discussed Harry and what Hannah had further found, concerning his hip, and that his gait before the garden incident had most likely been slightly irregular. Harry had not really been aware, either, she assured Taraneh. He had gotten used to his new normal at some point because he’d had to do so. Hannah and Dr. Stone started contacting colleagues whom they thought might have a solution. Thus far one had not been found. Minerva had said that she would speak to Professor Snape, the potions teacher at Hogwarts, to see if he would be interested in trying to develop something as well.

Taraneh took Harry in for some additional muggle tests, to investigate if there was something more that she could do as an orthopaedic surgeon. Alas, there was nothing, really. Meanwhile, Healer Terrill was helping him try to walk on his prosthetic with just one crutch to help his balance, to see if it was possible. Harry liked to be in the kitchen to cook, and even for that, if he could regularly move about there with one crutch, it would free him up a bit. It was still a struggle though. He could easily stand in for a while, but if he tried to take a few small steps, he would trip over his leg again. Sometimes he felt incredibly frustrated, but he did not share this with anyone besides Hermione. He recognized that everyone was doing their best, and he tried not to feel angry about it.

One day in the middle of August, during a heat wave that had settled over London, although nice and cool in St. Mungo’s, Harry and Hermione arrived via floo for their physiotherapy session. Healer Terrill was the only one present as it was near the end of the day. She put them both through their exercises, and then invited them to join her for a snack. As they settled at the table, Healer Terrill magically cut up some fruit for them and Accio’d plates from a nearby room.

Harry ate his apple slices quietly and slowly as Hermione started asking the Healer about the houses at Hogwarts. Hannah Terrill herself had been in Gryffindor, but the Hat had considered her for Hufflepuff. She told Harry and Hermione of this when asked if one house was better than another.

“Just keep in mind that the House rivalries are just to be in good fun. You are free to make friends from any of the houses. Don’t limit yourselves. Sometimes the rivalries get intense but try to not let that happen to you. Try not to get involved to the point that you are essentially blind to the other houses. Just be friendly and be yourselves. I’ve gotten to know both of you a bit now and being yourselves will be the best thing. At your age, I know that most students want to just fit in with the other students, no matter how much they need to change to do it. I’m telling you from personal experience that this is not necessary. Just be yourselves.”

“Alright,” Harry said, thinking about his Healer’s advice and taking it to heart before he spoke again. “Even if I will still need crutches for a bit longer, I will try to be myself. I really wanted to show up at Hogwarts, and no one would guess I have a prosthetic leg, but it will be better to be myself, who I am now.” He put another slice to his lips, and took a bite, appreciating the taste.

“Harry’s right. I shouldn’t hide that I like to read and conduct research, just because kids at my primary made fun of me,” Hermione said to Healer Terrill. “I was thinking about it, too, because I think I would prefer Gryffindor out of the others, but I worry that I will be sorted into Ravenclaw. I was planning to pretend I didn’t like those things quite so much.”

The Healer chuckled. “The Sorting Hat will be willing to discuss your worries with you and make a good decision. You do have some say in which house you are assigned. I think it’s a pity the first years are not usually told about this.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Hermione breathed. She had not told Harry how anxious she was about the Sorting. She knew Harry vaguely liked the idea of Gryffindor, but he wondered if he should be in Slytherin because he’d talked to a snake once at the zoo. She had asked him if he really thought that would be the right place for him, and all he’d said was “I don’t know.”

Harry smiled a fraction and pushed his new glasses up his nose. He was relieved as well. He wanted to be in the same house as Hermione, and he hoped that he could choose which house was for him and get this Sorting Hat to agree.

“Before you go, I need to remind you not to tell any other students about the Sorting Hat on the train. I’m sure Professor McGonagall has told you that, as well.” Healer Terrill said as she cut more apple. Talk turned to other things (such as that ‘seeb’ means ‘apple’ in Persian.)

--Break—

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts Castle, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had returned from his secret mission that had taken most of the summer. The professors had begun returning from their holidays to prepare for the new term. He sat at his desk, sucking on a sherbet lemon. He waved his hand over the side drawer and placed the bag of candy inside it. He waved a few of them over to the candy dish that sat to his left, on the outer edge of the desk. Fawkes emitted a soft noise behind him as a knock sounded at the door. Albus waved his hand again and opened the door to Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. She had been keeping the school in order while he had been out of the country, and as far as he had seen, she had done a fine job as always.

Minerva had an unreadable expression on her face, which rather surprised him as he had rarely seen her like this in the time he had known her. He motioned her to sit, which she did, though most unwillingly, he noticed.

“Hello, Minerva. How have things been here this lovely summer? I assume no major mishaps? Everything appears well.”

“Albus, no major mishaps have happened here at Hogwarts, but there have been some changes for a particular first year student of which you do not seem to be aware,” Minerva said with an almost steely tone to her voice. “Young Mr. Harry Potter.”

“I am certain he is doing well with his relatives. I will admit I haven’t checked on him in at least a year or two, but he seemed to be doing well. He received his acceptance letter, did he?” Albus said with a twinkle in his eye. He remained confident in his decision to place Harry with the Dursleys.

“He did,” Minerva said shortly. “I delivered it personally.” She was trying very hard to keep her emotions in check and took a deep, controlled breath.

“Why was that needed? I am sure he was expecting the letter this summer. His aunt Petunia was to inform him of magic,” Albus said, extracting another sherbet lemon from the candy dish. Surely this was not as bad as Minerva seemed to make it.

“Petunia did no such thing, Albus. Vernon Dursley forbade it. Mr. Dursley is now in muggle prison for child abuse and attempted manslaughter,” Minerva stated acidly. “Harry is now living with guardians who plan to adopt him legally in the muggle world. They have a biological child who is a witch, and the two children will arrive here to Hogwarts in two weeks. I now have magical guardianship of Harry, Albus.” She gave him her sternest look, the one that scared the students.

“You’re not serious, Minerva?” Albus asked, looking stunned, although no stunning spell had been cast. He had never imagined such a thing when he went ‘hunting’ this summer.

“Quite serious, Albus,” she said, folding her hands in her lap tightly. He had never seen her quite this way with him.

“What happened to Harry then?” Albus finally asked after some consideration. To Minerva, he looked as if he really did not want to know after all. He knew he had not been keeping an eye on the boy as he really should have.

“Were you aware that Harry was abused in the Dursley home? I think not, Albus. It is truly amazing he is alive. His magic is strong and he has had several incidents of accidental magic that are beyond average. I firmly believe his magic kept him alive throughout childhood. Nevertheless, he was abused and neglected. He hid it well, it seems. Finally, it could no longer be hidden in April last when Vernon Dursley beat him unconscious with a garden shovel.” She took a quick breath again to try to level her rising anger. “The majority of Harry’s left leg needed to be amputated fifteen hours later due to infections, nerve and tendon damage, and crushed bone. His magic was enough to keep him alive until Petunia finally took Harry to a muggle hospital next morning. If she hadn’t decided to grow a backbone and go against that despicable Vernon Dursley, Harry would have been dead within hours, magic or no.”

Albus audibly gasped, and the blood drained from his face. Very little surprised him anymore, but this did. He had never expected anything like this to happen. He had thought

Vernon Dursley would come around eventually and show Harry a happy muggle life before he became too embroiled in the fame and problems of the magical world. They had not, and he was so very wrong. He put a hand over his face, something he rarely did.

“Could his leg have been healed Magically?” he whispered, as Minerva produced a still muggle photograph. He stared at it through his spectacles. It was hardly recognizable.

“Harry, himself, has procured a few opinions now. The answer is perhaps, to some extent, but he would have needed to reach St. Mungo’s immediately. As you know, with those particular muggles, that was not an option. The general opinion is that the amputation was for the best. He now has a magical prosthetic that works fairly well for him, and he can make it function quite nicely, although he is still dependent on crutches because of an old hip injury. His hip was fractured at age eight, but he never received any treatment. We have found that Harry never saw a medical professional outside primary school. The fractures themselves healed relatively well, again with likely help from his own magic, but some nerves were damaged. Harry can’t reliably lift his prosthetic leg at times because the prosthetic can’t properly attach to the damaged nerves. He stumbles a great deal. The Healers at St. Mungo’s are working on how to solve this issue, either through somehow healing the nerves or bypassing them altogether and perhaps adding more charms to the leg.”

“Perhaps Severus could find a potion to brew,” Albus said rather tiredly. “Has he returned from holiday?”

“He arrives tomorrow morning, Albus,” Minerva said. She had already planned to speak with him of this. “I shall take care of it.”

“Very well, Minerva. It’s hard for an old man to admit this, but I feel badly. I let Harry down, when I had thought this arrangement would lead to a wonderful childhood free of the fame and pressures of being the Boy-Who-Lived. It is now obvious it was not for the best. I am sorry.”

Minerva could not help herself. “Albus, if you recall, I argued with you that day almost ten years ago. I did not want to leave Harry there. I was willing to take him in myself or find an appropriate wizarding family to grow up in. I told you those people were inappropriate.”

“I know, Minerva, I know now. I felt that there, Harry would grow up out of the public eye, and he would be loved and protected by his family,” Albus said even more tiredly. Minerva almost felt sorry for him.

“If you wish to know fully what Harry has experienced, I have obtained a copy of the Muggle court transcript from Vernon Dursley’s trial. I would not attempt to ask Harry about much of it if I were you, Albus. He will voluntarily share if he decides it is safe to share,” Minerva said gently.

“Safe? Harry’s not safe. He will be safer once he arrives here at Hogwarts, of course, but I have reason to believe Voldemort will be attempting a return,” Albus said.

“Harry is not aware of that, and he will not be made aware of that for a time yet, correct? He told me himself when I first found him that his new family allows him to feel safe. We need to allow him to feel safe here, too, at the first. And I suggest you start by giving him a heart-felt apology.”

“What about the wards at the Dursley house? He really should live with Petunia to get her extra blood protection.”

“I constructed several new wards at Harry’s new home, although I am aware they are not as good as Petunia’s blood wards. Therefore, I sent Kingsley over to reinforce mine and add stronger ones.” Minerva stated.

“Ah, yes, that is true. I will think on this, Minerva,” Albus said. “Perhaps Harry would be willing to stay with his aunt a few weeks each summer?”

“Only with my permission and the permission of his adoptive parents, Albus, and only if Harry agrees. Petunia must also agree to strict guidelines on how Harry is to be treated. Perhaps someone would have to stay with him. Let us see how things will go before next summer, shall we?”

“All right, Minerva,” Albus said with a deep sigh. He knew that he was in wrong, but it wouldn’t stop him from pondering the entire situation.

“We will talk soon, as I must insist on knowing details about your summer project, Albus. How will tomorrow evening work for you? We’ll enjoy a cup of tea, and perhaps play chess.”

“Agreed,” Albus said. His eyes were not twinkling.

--Break—

The following afternoon, Minerva took another deep breath, and went down to the dungeons. She cared about Severus Snape as if he were a son, but he never acted as if he wished to accept her care. She knew he was not always fond of teaching, particularly the first years, but she did know that despite himself, he would like the task she would ask of him. She also knew that he would not initially like whom he would do it for, but he would do it. He would do it for the challenge, and for Lily.

She found him in the lab just off the Potions classroom. She was clutching a copy of Harry’s medical files in her hand. That morning she had already had an involved discussion with Poppy Pomfrey. Poppy had broken her usually collected, no-nonsense state and started crying when she saw the photos. She remembered well when James Potter used to visit her Hospital Wing and was thrilled when Minerva placed some recent memories of Harry in her small pensieve and allowed her to watch. She was assured that Harry was doing relatively well now. Poppy agreed that Harry looked most like his father physically, but his eyes and behaviors were most like his mother. This was something Minerva planned to tell Severus, as well. Lily was Severus’s soft spot.

“Severus? Do you have a moment to talk?” Minerva said softly while also lifting her eyebrows towards him. She meant business. Severus looked up from an ingredient – Minerva didn’t recognize it – and sighed.

“Nothing is brewing yet, Minerva, so that is acceptable,” he said. He invited Minerva to sit down in a chair nearby and then he took the other. It looked like he had gotten some sun this summer and didn’t look nearly as pale as he often did. Out hunting ingredients, she supposed.

“I hope your summer was relaxing,” Minerva said. Severus dipped his head once in agreement. That seemed to be all he was willing to share. She pulled out the file and passed it to him.

“What is this?” Severus asked, lifting an eyebrow in question.

“It is the medical information on one of our incoming first years, Severus. This came up about a month ago as I was making my home visits to Muggle-born first years. This student is someone who was not muggle-born but was raised in an abusive Muggle household. He has some nerve damage from a so-called accident two and a half years ago. His magic healed the remainder of the extensive injuries rather quickly, from what I gathered, but these nerves are misfiring, so to speak. It makes walking difficult for him. I would like to see if you could come up with a potion, a cream, a salve, something that might help these nerves. Healers at St. Mungo’s are already working on possible additional charms or runes for this young man’s new magical prosthesis.”

Severus’s head swung up to look at her in surprise, and away from the file, copied on parchment and rolled up. Although she would not admit that she liked being dramatic with these photos, she did like the ability to observe everyone’s reactions to them. She refused to look again herself, as she still felt ill upon viewing them. She brought photos out from one of her robe pockets.

“Someone did this to a child?” Severus said in his deadly serious voice after a few moments had passed. He was angry and pulled his wand out. He was going to go find whoever it was who did this and –

“Severus, calm down. He is in muggle prison for at least 10 years. I have not yet had the time to research the possibility of taking him to court in front the Wizengamot,” Minerva said, put a hand on his shoulder.

“Who is he?” Severus asked. No child should ever have to experience this. It was worse than anything he had gone through with his abusive father. She pulled out a photo of Harry and herself in the ice cream shoppe in Diagon Alley. It was a still muggle shot, in colour, as Hermione had taken the photo during the birthday celebration. Hermione had thought Minerva would like it. She did. She adored it. They were both smiling widely in the picture.

“Keep an open mind, Severus, all right?” She gave him a look that he should really calm down some more before she would show him. She knew he was a Legilimens, while she was not, so she closed her mind to him as well as she had learned. He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes but would contain himself. She had known him since he was age eleven, after all. After a few more moments, she flipped the picture over and passed it to him.

“Potter!” He nearly yelled and dropped the photo. He bent slowly to retrieve it from the floor beside his chair.

“Yes, Harry looks like his father, don’t you agree? You will also agree that his eyes are Lily’s, yes?” Severus nodded in vague agreement, trying to hide his tears. He never cried anymore. Not in years, except perhaps in the middle of the night when he could not sleep.

Severus had known that Harry would be coming to Hogwarts this term, but he had expected that Harry would be spoiled by his muggle relatives, especially if they were anything like Lily’s parents. Was Harry raised by his muggle grandparents? He had not really stayed in touch with Lily after she had gone off into the sunset with James. Her parents would have never done anything of this sort to Harry. Severus had been prepared to hate Harry, especially if he looked like James. Just looking at the still image of Harry (he suddenly began to think of him as Harry, and not Potter Junior, surprised himself), he saw the resemblance to Lily. He traced Harry’s bright green eyes on the photo.

“He acts and thinks much like Lily, too, you’ll be happy to know” Minerva said. He nodded again, sniffling, and then he looked up sharply.

“He lived with Petunia, didn’t he? Petunia always claimed she hated magic, and was going to find someone normal to marry, to get away from Lily. Did she?” His eyes were narrowed as he stared at Minerva, demanding an answer.

“Yes, unfortunately. She married Vernon Dursley, the most boringly normal muggle you would ever find except that now he is the individual in prison for child abuse and attempted manslaughter. Harry nearly died from gangrene after Vernon beat him with a garden shovel in April this year. Harry’s magic had healed him from other injuries in the past, but this was too much. We think his magic saved him from dying before Petunia was able to get him help,” Minerva said. Looking at Severus’s scowling face, she added, “Petunia did take him to muggle hospital in time, his leg was amputated, and now he is living with a foster family which, as it turns out, is partly magical, although they did not know that prior to a month ago. Please keep that in mind as you think of Petunia. From what I understand, she is trying to – “

“I don’t care if it’s Harry Potter, no one should be abused like this,” Severus said, looking old for thirty-two years of age. He rubbed at his nose. This development would change his entire approach with Harry in Potions class as he couldn’t, wouldn’t, make fun of him just to finally get back at James as he had been planning in the back of his mind. Even if Harry was Sorted into Gryffindor. Glancing at the photo again, he recognized his own astonishment that Harry was smiling, a genuine smile. Perhaps he was doing well enough for now.

“Who has magical custody of him?”

Minerva smiled widely at this. “I do,” she said. “Albus was away doing whatever it was he was doing, so I took care of everything.”

“Lily would approve of it,” he said with a half-smile of his own. Minerva saw this and wished Severus would find reason to smile more often. He looked younger when he did, much closer to his actual age.

“Please don’t discuss much of this with Albus just yet. Albus just learned of this yesterday, and I know he is worried about the Prophecy just now, wondering if Harry will be able to fulfill it. I will be speaking with him this evening, and I do hope he will divulge more about his summer activities,” Minerva quietly said.

“I will not,” Severus said, “but please do not hesitate to ask me if you need assistance. I will read the file tonight.”

--Break--

The following two weeks were a wonderful blur for Harry. One Sunday, they got in the car, and drove into London. Taraneh and Tim made sure they arrived early to Royal Albert Hall to be sure they would not be caught up in the crowds. Most PROMS concert goers stand on the floor during the concert, but Taraneh had decided that it was best if they had proper seats to better accommodate Hermione and Harry. That night, the programme consisted of music composed by Purcell, Telemann, and Handel, composers with whom Harry still had little knowledge. After the concert was over, Harry decided he liked most Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks, and it was composed right there in London! He had not known that. Tim told them that Jimi Hendrix once lived in a room in London near what was Handel’s flat over one hundred year prior. Harry was aware of Hendrix’s music as Tim had a record he’d listened to. Hermione’s personal favorite was the Water Music Suite. The discussion did not last long as it was very late, and they both fell asleep, leaning against one another.

Later that week, both Taraneh and Tim had a few days’ holiday from work. Healer Terrill excused the kids from PT, so that they could go as a family on a brief holiday. They went to a beach house. Harry had never been to a beach, so they decided to make that dream a reality for him. He left his prosthetic leg in the beach house whilst they were at the beach. The sand was marvelous, and he discovered that he loved most sitting in the sand at the shore, waves lapping over him. Fortunately, it was sunny and warm most of the holiday, and only one evening clouded over with storms passing through the area.

Hermione brought along her schoolbooks, which Harry shared if he needed something different to read. Hermione had covered a few of the magic textbooks with paper to hide the titles of the books. They were on a muggle beach, after all, although they had their own little corner of it, it seemed. She sat on a blanket in the sand reading much of the time, but really, she very much missed just running into the waves and falling into them as she had in previous visits to the beach. She attempted to describe it to Harry, but he had never experienced it before, and she wasn’t sure she was expressing her feelings properly. Even with her charmed leg brace, she could not run, and honestly, running was not something she particularly liked anyway. This was the only time she truly missed it.

They decided on names for their owls. Harry had found the name Hedwig in one of his books, and felt it was the perfect name for his owl. Hermione had decided to name her owl Banafsheh, which, as she explained to Harry, meant violet (as in the flower) in Persian. Aunt Tina, who had had to work, cared for the owls in their absence.
As they sat at the shore together the last day on the beach, Hermione chatted about all they had learned thus far from their books about magic and Hogwarts. Harry was quieter, as he often was, compared to Hermione. He thought about what they knew about the houses at Hogwarts and thought that perhaps there ought to be a house for those who might do well in them all. He and Hermione could join one like it, he felt. However, he also understood better the traditions of the old castle after reading Hogwarts: A History. They would be sorted into a house whether they liked it or not. He and Hermione had decided on Grynffindor as the best option for them both, being brave and having courage, even though they would have to get used to climbing all those stairs if there was not a way to alter them.

Hermione felt more confident about the stairs. With her magically charmed brace, she was getting better daily at navigating stairs. Harry was a bit nervous. He was nowhere near ready to sprint up and down stairs, but if a solution were found to fix the hip issue, maybe he would be able to at the least walk normally on the stairs. He looked forward to the first night in the castle, although for the first time in his life, he would be homesick! He had become so accustomed to living with his new family that he would miss them dearly. He realized he would miss being tucked in at night by Tara joon, particularly. She felt like a mother to him now, and it was a new feeling. At the very least, Hermione would be with him at the school, and perhaps he would get to see Tara every now and then if she came to Hogwarts for her lessons.

Harry had never thought that he would ever be loved just as himself. In his new family, he was not the freak and he was not the famous Boy Who Lived whom he had read about in some of the new books (it felt odd to read about himself.) It was safe (eeman) to be his own person with his new family, and not the person all the others expected him to be. How would his fellow students react to him at Hogwarts? He reached out and put his hand on top of Hermione’s as she played with the sand beside him and squeezed. She understood, Harry knew.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Hogwarts Express

(Note: I could not come up with a more imaginative chapter title.)

Sept 1, 1991
Harry had never been to Kings Cross station before, and there were so many people crowded in the large building, everyone going every which way. Fortunately, he was with his new family, but he could almost imagine being here by himself, being dumped off by Uncle Vernon, and shook the thought away. That was not his life anymore.

“Harry, we need to find the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, remember?” Hermione whispered to Harry.

“Yeah,” he replied, still looking overwhelmed and gripping his handles tightly, trying to not get knocked over by the crowd bustling by.

“It’s this way, kids,” Tim said, pushing a trolley with both Harry and Hermione’s trunks, belongings, and owls on it. Taraneh came from behind, catching up after having found a location to park the car.

“I wanted to see you off,” she panted. She had apparently run from the car park. “I am going to miss you two so much.”

“Let’s go see this magical train,” Tim said heartily, although he was going to miss his Hermione sorely, and he was so pleased to call Harry his son. He would miss Harry’s love of learning about the music he himself so dearly loved. They had been bonding over it, and Harry had hugged Tim while at the beach, willingly. Harry trusted him more now, and he felt honoured. Now that both children were going to be in Scotland until Christmas holidays, he and Taraneh were going to have an empty house, time to focus on work, and perhaps more time on one another. It wouldn’t be as stressful as it was right after Hermione’s accident, either. They had been so focused on their careers and trying to have children for so many years. Perhaps now was their chance to reconnect.

Soon they all came to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

“Er, we’re supposed to walk through the wall, according to Minerva,” Harry said nervously.

“What if the magic doesn’t work, and we fracture our noses,” Taraneh could not help asking. Hermione gave her a quick grin.

“It’ll work, Mum,” she said. “You should be able to go through the wall now that you’re magical, too. Would you push the trolley through, Mum? Dad can come through with me.”

As they were contemplating this, other parents and students arrived. They moved back to allow the others through. Harry thought this was a good chance to see what would happen. A student ran through with a trolley, and just slipped through, while her parents followed sedately walking up to and then through the wall. They watched another family go through, and then they decided to follow Hermione’s plan.

Their method was a complete success. They appeared on the other side of the barrier without any fractured noses, with the magnificent Hogwarts Express right in front of them. The family gaped upon seeing it, and then after a moment, they got down to business. Tim and Tara told the children to find seats on the train, and they would help them load their belongings. Hermione climbed up the steps up to the train confidently. Harry followed slowly, still unsure about his left leg and its sluggishness sometimes on steps.

When they found an empty compartment, they went in, and sat across from each other. Hermione pulled out her new school robes from her bag immediately and put them on over her muggle clothes.

Harry watched this with interest, but he was in no hurry to change into his robes. The train trip would be several hours long. After he set his crutches to the side, he decided to check to make sure his money was there in his bag, and the book he had brought along read, unless they would meet other new students on the train.

Tim and Tara found them. They set down the trunks and owls, and then each bent down to kiss both Hermione and Harry.

“Have a wonderful time at your new school,” Taraneh said, trying to wipe away tears from her eyes.

“I’ll miss you,” Harry said in a small voice as she gave him a small hug.

“I will, too, Harry joon,” she replied. “Owl us any time.”

Harry allowed Tim to give him a hug, for which Tim was grateful.

Harry had needed the hugs more than he wanted to admit. He finally felt safe, and now he was going away to new adventures and he would come back home in a few months. He honestly had a home now. After their parents left the train, Harry looked idly out the window to the platform. More families and students were arriving, and the hall outside their compartment was becoming noisier.

“Do you think other students will want to sit with us? There’s enough room,” Harry said, while observing a large family of red-haired children saying goodbye to their mother. He briefly wondered what it would have been like to grow up in such a family, but then waved away the thought. He very nearly had a sister now, and she was sitting across from him now, apparently considering what he said.

“Perhaps. I rather hope so. Maybe someone from a wizarding family, because I have ever so many questions to ask about everything I read in the books,” Hermione replied enthusiastically. “If no one joins us, perhaps we can go for a walk and meet people.”

“Hermione, I’m not sure about that. They might recognize me. Remember Diagon Alley?” Harry pushed his fringe closer over his scar. Before, he hadn’t minded his scar, because he had read once that a person’s scars were all a part of one’s life story. Now, this scar brought him a feeling of trepidation. The entire British wizarding world knew about it, so it seemed. He was aware that he was known as the Boy Who Lived. (He also wondered if he had nine lives like a cat. He said this out loud to Hermione the week before, and she laughed because he had said it humourously. Later he realized that maybe even he should not joke about this.)

“Yes, you’re right, of course, Harry,” Hermione acquiesced with a sigh. She thought it was rather a pain that Harry was famous here.

“I’m right, of course?” Harry asked slyly. Hermione sometimes acted like she knew everything and he had to rub this in bit.

“Yes, yes,” Hermione replied as the door to their compartment opened. The youngest red-headed boy stood there.

“Any chance I can sit with you? Every place else is full,” he said. Harry patted the seat next to him.

“Yeah, it’s just us,” he said to the boy. The boy sat down.

“My name is Hermione Granger,” Hermione said eagerly.

“My name is Ron Weasley,” Ron said, staring at her and then looked over to Harry.

“I’m Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Ron,” he said. “You have a large family.”

“You saw? I have five older brothers and a younger sister, Ginny. She’ll start next year, and – You’re Harry Potter?” Ron shouted. Harry flinched backwards, but found this boy interesting, and to have so many siblings, it seemed incredible.

“Yes, he is,” Hermione said. “Let’s not make a big deal of it.” She slid some of her curls back behind her ears to get them out of her eyes.

“He is a big deal. I’ve heard stories all my life,” Ron explained. He eyed Hermione suspiciously.

“Harry doesn’t want a fuss made over him,” Hermione said in a softer tone.

“Hermione, he’s from a wizarding family,” Harry said, giving her a hint.

“Oh, right,” Hermione said, her face brightening. So many questions to ask.

“Have you really got the scar?” Ron asked first. Harry grinned and lifted the hair which covered the scar. Ron seemed nice enough. Maybe he would be his first friend besides Hermione and the family.

They talked, mainly about light topics and the Wizarding world. Ron told them a lot of things, but honestly wasn’t sure how the Sorting worked. One of his brothers told him he would have to take a test. Harry and Hermione did not say a word about the Sorting Hat. Another first year student named Neville came in to ask if they’d seen his toad. They had not, but Hermione invited him to join them in their compartment. He said he would come back if he couldn’t find his toad. He seemed nice, if a little nervous.

A trolley with all sorts of candy and pumpkin pasties rattled to a stop at their door. Harry gave one glance and pulled out some sickles and knuts from his school bag.

“Shh, Mione. Don’t tell dentist dad about this. I’m right this time, too,” he said, looking mischievously across at Hermione.

“I won’t tell,” Hermione said, “but we have lunch with us, remember? Mum wrapped up kabob sandwiches.”

“My mum sent corned beef. I hate corned beef,” Ron said, looking rather glum. Harry himself did not mind corned beef, but he did realize he was still grateful for food generally.

“Alright, then I will buy dessert,” Harry said, and he proceeded to buy a bit of each of the candy varieties, managing to stand upright briefly on the moving train. He put the small pile of candy between he and Ron.

“You will share with me?” Hermione asked with another sigh. She loved candy, but she knew it was absolutely terrible for her teeth. Both of her parents usually encouraged healthy choices when it came to things such as candy.

“Let’s eat our sandwiches first, and then then candy,” Harry said, and pulled his wrapped sandwich from his bag. Hermione did the same, while Ron looked disgustedly at his corned beef. Harry felt for him, so felt inclined to make an offer.

“I’ll trade half of my sandwich for half of yours, Ron.” Ron grinned at him gratefully, agreeing to the trade. Ron scarfed down the kabob sandwich. Harry had perhaps seen Dudley eat his food that fast, but he wasn’t sure. Ron must like food. Harry ate the remainder of the kabob sandwich, relishing it. He suspected he would not have good Persian food again until Christmas break. He also ate Ron’s corned beef, which he found quite delicious, and told Ron this. Ron just gave him an ‘I don’t believe you’ look. Harry smirked in return.

“Where did you get those sandwiches from?” Ron asked.

“My mother’s parents came from Iran, and so Mum and Aunt Tina make all sorts of Persian food,” Hermione explained. She, too, would miss her favorite Persian foods while at Hogwarts. Perhaps they would be permitted to cook in the school kitchen? It couldn’t hurt to ask, she thought. “I know how to make some of it, and Harry was learning some of the recipes this summer from Mum, so maybe we can make some at school. I’ll miss the rice the most.”

“Does Harry live with you? I thought he was living at his muggle aunt’s house, having a happy life. That’s what everyone says,” Ron stated, giving Harry a curious glance. He held up one of the candy packages. “Do you mind if I have one?” Harry nodded and sighed. He did not want to talk about this yet, but if Ron was now their friend, then he guessed that it would just be good to have it over.

“I don’t really want to talk much about it,” Harry said, “but since I believe we are becoming friends, I will tell you this once. Please don’t tell anyone else.” He picked up some candy for himself. He just wanted to enjoy candy and friendship.

“I won’t, mate,” Ron promised.

“Alright. My uncle was not very nice to me. Neither was my cousin Dudley. They bullied and abused me. My uncle called me names and punished me for anything ‘freaky’. Dudley pushed me down the stairs when we were eight and broke my hip in several places, but nobody never took me to hospital. Dudley was always punching me, it seemed. My aunt made me cook, clean, and work in the garden, although sometimes I know she was just listening to Uncle Vernon. I used to like working in the garden the most, because I was outdoors. If I didn’t do things the right way, they would lock me in my cupboard, sometimes without food,” Harry said looking down at his knees, fiddling with a package of Bernie Bott’s Every-Flavored Beans. He really felt ashamed, but also relieved to get this part of the explanation over with.

“Blimey,” Ron said, paused in his eating. He felt his eyes widen a bit at a thought that just occurred him. Ron had long felt as if he could never measure up to his brothers, but it seemed that he had grown up in a wonderful household compared to Harry. “And all I worry about is not being as good as my older brothers. Why didn’t Dumbledore take you away from the muggles if they were treating you that badly?”

“That’s what Professor McGonagall is wondering,” Hermione said. “Harry, toss me a pumpkin pasty. It seems like they will be less sugary, but perhaps I’m wrong.” Harry gently tossed the wrapped pasty to her, and she caught it out of the air.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Maybe he didn’t really know what was going on. I’m going to ask him when we get to Hogwarts.” He had read all about Dumbledore now, and definitely had many questions about how he had ended up with the Dursleys and not with a Wizarding family, maybe a family like Ron’s. He put a chocolate-looking Bean in his mouth. Mmm, it tasted good. Definitely chocolate-flavored! Ron looked up and smirked.

“Be careful, Harry. Some of the flavors are disgusting,” he said, turning on the seat to more fully look at Hermione and Harry now that he was feeling satiated. Hermione was slowly chewing her pasty, very much enjoying it. Ron had never been friends with a girl besides his sister, but he thought Hermione could be interesting. She had mentioned all the books she had read. He himself was not that much into reading, for fun anyway. He wondered if she would be Sorted into Ravenclaw.

“Have you both thought about which House you might be Sorted into?” Ron asked. “I know I will Sort into Gryffindor most likely. All my family have. I have three brothers attending this year. Percy’s a perfect Prefect.” He pretended to gag himself. Harry and Hermione laughed.

“We’ve read the descriptions of the Houses, and McGonagall told us Harry’s parents were Gryffindors.
We agree we should try for Gryffindor, too,” Hermione said, glancing at Harry with a warm look in her medium brown eyes. “I know I would fit in pretty well with Ravenclaw, but I think Gryffindor will work better. We want to be in the same House as each other, now that we’re family.”

Harry put another Bean in his mouth and immediately spat it out.

“I told you so,” Ron said, patting Harry on the back. Harry shot him an amused look and then looked back into the package to try to sniff out what flavors they were. “Harry, how did you move in with Hermione’s family?”

“After I was in hospital in April,” Harry said, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice that came up with this subject. “They took me in after the police investigated Uncle Vernon. He’s in muggle prison for 10 years for what he did to me. I wish I had known about my magic sooner.” He didn’t say what he would like to have done to Vernon.

“What else did he do to you? Stupid muggle,” Ron said. Harry blinked a few times. He felt he needed to tell Ron. Hermione would help him if he lost it. Slowly, he reached down and pulled up the leg of his jeans a bit, so Ron could see his magical prosthetic leg. Ron stared, confused, at it, trying figure it out.

“That isn’t your real leg, is it?”

“No, it’s not my original leg. He tried to kill me, so now I am an amputee,” Harry said. Might as well get this over with, too, he thought.

“What?” Ron asked in disbelief, as the door to the compartment opened. Neville was back, holding his toad and grinning.

“Have a seat,” Hermione said, indicating the open seat next to her. He gave her a shy smile and sat down.

“Can we trust Neville?” Harry asked. Ron nodded.

“Neville, don’t tell anyone what I am about to say, alright?” Harry said with a very serious look in his eyes. Neville looked briefly frightened and then nodded his agreement.

“I – I won’t t-tell, I promise,” he said. Harry flashed a quick smile at Neville.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Last April, I was working in the garden at the Dursleys, and I was angry with my cousin Dudley. I accidently used my magic and turned his hair purple. I didn’t know how to change it back. I guess I hoped it would fade back to its normal color by the time my aunt and uncle got home. It didn’t and when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia saw it, Vernon got angrier than I had ever seen him before. I was outside in the back garden, and I tried to run away, but he caught me, and hit me with a shovel loads of times. Magical healing immediately might not have even saved my leg, it was so bad. I’ve asked the Healers. My aunt took pity on me and took me to a muggle hospital. Hermione’s mom, who is an Orthopaedic surgeon, took my leg off otherwise I would have died that day from an infection, and then a few weeks later, I went home with them. They are going to adopt me, so Hermione will be my sister. I have a magical prosthetic leg now, but I can’t get it to work right all the time, because the Healers can’t work out how to get a damaged part of my hip to heal. They said they would figure out it out soon, hopefully.” Harry finished. He was even more relieved now.

Both Ron and Neville sat there with their mouths hanging open. Harry was tempted to throw a disgusting Bernie Bott’s Bean into both their mouths, but he didn’t know if their new friendships were strong enough for that yet. He picked up Chocolate Frogs instead and threw them to his three friends, afterwards grabbing one for himself. They discussed the cards, and even Neville chimed in, although he had seemed a bit nervous at first. Harry even found out that Neville’s birthday was just one day before his, and that he had grown up with his grandmother. He and Hermione glanced at each other. Neville’s parents had come up in the magical history they had read during the summer.

“Boys,” Hermione said a while later. “You should change into your robes soon. I’ll allow you privacy in here. I am off to find the toilets.” She waved and said, “Ta-ta, boys. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.” They all watched her leave the compartment. Harry noted that she was trailing her hand on the wall, probably for better balance on the moving train.

“What happened to Hermione?” Ron asked, rather stunned. He had not noticed Hermione’s leg brace prior, probably due to her long robes.

“She was hit by a car on her way to the library several weeks before my incident. She’s lucky she didn’t lose her leg, too,” Harry said.

“I need to go find my trunk,” Neville said, slipping out the door. “I’ll come back. You are the nicest people on the train, you know.”

Harry turned to his bag to take out the robes. Ron was grunting beside him, trying to find his robes, apparently.

“Oh, here they are!” Ron burst out. Harry removed his trainers and slid down his jeans. He felt Ron’s eyes on his prosthetic and tried to ignore this for the moment. He quickly got his feet in the school uniform trousers and pulled them up to fasten them, getting to his feet briefly to do so. After he sat down again, he quickly changed his shirt and reached for his robes. This adventure was feeling more real now. Finally, he put his trainers back on to complete the ensemble.

“How do I look?” Harry asked. Ron was almost finished changing as well.

“Fine. Your robes are newer than mine. I inherited my oldest brothers’ robes,” Ron said dejectedly.

“You look alright,” Harry said, trying to be positive for his new friend. The robes did look rather worn, but not terribly awful. “Even with magic, I can’t still fully walk with my prosthetic yet,” Harry said in way of explanation as he retrieved his crutches. “I need to find the loo.” So saying, he stood up and walked out of the compartment, just as Hermione seemed to be returning.

“Toilets are down that way, Harry. You look very nice,” Hermione said.

“So do you, Mione. Be back in a minute,” Harry said quickly. He found the door to the loo. After he was done and had washed his hands, he turned to leave but was met with the door opening. In the doorway stood a blond boy.

“I’m leaving,” Harry said.

“My name is Draco Malfoy, and I’m a first year. And you are?” Draco stuck out his hand to shake.

“My name is Harry Potter, and I’m also a first year,” Harry replied, shaking Draco’s hand with a smile.

“I heard you might be coming to Hogwarts,” Draco said. “A pleasure to meet you.” After a bit of small talk, Harry needed to get back to his compartment, and fortunately Draco still needed to use the loo, so Harry could get away. He wanted to get back to his almost sister and his new friends just now, but perhaps Draco would be a friend one day, too.

“Harry! We’re almost there,” Hermione said when he got back to the compartment. She was bouncing up and down on her seat. Ron looked at her in amusement, while Neville was slowly turning extremely pale.

“Are you all right, Neville?” Harry asked softly as he sat down in his seat.

“N-No,” was all Neville said.

“If you’re worried, that’s alright. I’m worried, too. What if I don’t get into Gryffindor? It seems it will be the best house to get into,” Harry said.

“I am probably going to get into Gryffindor,” Neville said, “but I don’t know if I belong there.” He exhaled a deep sigh.

They all were quiet then, as the train drew closer. Harry watched the changing landscape out the window in quiet anticipation, and then they were there. They were told to leave their trunks and owls on the train, that they would find their trunks with their beds in their dormitories after Sorting and the feast. Hermione picked up her bag, and Harry slung his across his shoulders. With Ron and Neville leading the way, they all got off the train. Hagrid was calling the first years over to the boats on the edge of the nearby lake. It was just as Professor McGonagall had said. They would ride on boats to the castle.

“Harry, Hermione, over ‘ere! Yer friends, too,” Hagrid called to them. “Saved yeh a boat for yerselves.” When they had reached him, Hermione and Harry got themselves into the boat with a bit of help from Hagrid, and Ron and Neville joined them. It was time to see Hogwarts at night.

Chapter Text

They had just met the castle ghosts when Professor McGonagall told the group of first years that it was time for the Sorting and they should form a line. Harry had been in awe of Hogwarts already, but when he saw the Great Hall lit up with candles, he could not breathe for a moment. It was all that Hogwarts: A History had said it was, what they had not thoroughly seen when they had visited at the end of July. Hermione was in front of him and was glancing over her shoulder, mouthing something to him. He was trying to figure out what she was saying when suddenly they were in front of all the curious eyes of the older students. Harry felt his anxiety rise, but he tried to take some deep calming breaths. Behind him, Ron looked scared to death. Harry wanted to tell him to breathe deeply.

After the Hat's song, Professor McGonagall began calling up the students alphabetically by surname. Each student sat upon the stool and put on the Sorting Hat. Some students took longer than others, Harry noticed. The first of their small group to be called was Hermione. She went confidently to the stool and put on the hat. After two minutes, the Hat called out, "Gryffindor!" Hermione smiled and handed the Hat to Professor McGonagall. She walked over to the first years' area of the Gryffindor table and sat down slowly with a grin. She had gotten her choice after some debate with the Hat over her reasons why she should be in this house versus Ravenclaw. Now she hoped fervently that Harry would get in, too.

Harry was trying his best not to be visibly impatient. It seemed this process took time, unfortunately, and he was getting tired standing for so long. His hip hurt more than anything else tonight. He wondered if it would be appropriate to say something to Professor McGonagall. Next from their new little group, Neville also took some time, but was eventually Sorted into Gryffindor. He had a very relieved expression on his face as he went to sit next to Hermione as he was just happy it was over now. Soon after, Draco, the boy whom he had spoken with near the toilets in the train was called for his turn. He had seemed rather friendly and had not asked about Harry's scar or crutches. Harry wondered if they could become friends even if they were in different houses. The Hat took some time with Draco, too, before finally shouting, "Slytherin!" The Slytherin table cheered for him. Supposedly Slytherin was not the best house in that Voldemort had been in that house when he was a student, and that Death Eaters often were from Slytherin when they were in school, at least according to the books. Harry still hoped they would become friends.

When Harry's name was finally called, the whispering became loud amongst the students. Harry tried to keep his face neutral, even though he heard some of the questions and comments quite clearly. He had no desire to be famous, but he was most definitely famous here. He was the Boy Who Lived, and he wished they would just stop talking about him. He sat down on the stool with some care, and then propped his crutches between his legs. Professor McGonagall gave him a quick wink and set the Sorting Hat on his head.

"Ah, Harry Potter, at last," the Sorting Hat sang in his mind.

"Yes," Harry thought to the Sorting Hat, finding this rather funny. This seemed to give the Sorting Hat all sorts of reasons to talk through his mind about how each House would work well for Harry in some manner, particularly Slytherin. Finally, Harry told the Hat that he would like to be put in Gryffindor. After what seemed a long time, the Hat shouted,

"Gryffindor!" and the whole Gryffindor table cheered for him. He looked up, smiled, stood and instead of walking properly as instructed by Healer Terrill, he swung both of his legs through his red crutches because he could gain more speed that way (or so he told himself, although he was truly in some amount of pain.) He sat down on the other side of Hermione, so glad the Sorting was over for him, and maybe all the staring eyes and the whispers would leave him alone now. He had no doubt Ron would get into Gryffindor. Ron's older identical twin brothers leaned over to shake Harry's hand, and introduce themselves quietly, although Harry could easily see that they preferred to be loud and talkative. Finally, Ron's name was called, second to last, and he was indeed sorted into Gryffindor immediately. He sat across from Harry near his brothers, also in obvious relief that the Sorting was over.

After a speech by Headmaster Dumbledore, who looked very much like his photos, in which he announced that things were changing a bit this year and that in the morning the first years would not attend their first class immediately. Instead, a tour of Hogwarts would be led by Professor McGonagall for the first years, and it was required to attend. They were to meet in the Great Hall after breakfast.
After a warning about the Forbidden Forest and the third floor of the school (on the threat of death! Hermione thought this ridiculous), and singing the school song, the banquet began. Food appeared in massive quantities along the tables. Harry was once again awed by it all. He had to pace himself eating, but it was all quite good! Once the meal was finally over, the first year Gryffindors were collected by Percy, another of Ron's older brothers, the one who was the prefect.

Harry hoped that they would be shown to their beds soon. He was not only physically tired, but mentally exhausted. (The whispering about and around him was more irritating than he would like to admit.) And he really needed a break from his leg. Perhaps he should go see Madam Pomfrey, the school's Matron. She looked quite old fashioned in what she was wearing, quite like her hospital wing in some ways. She had been sitting up at the head table along with the teachers. She could give him something for pain, perhaps. She had been seated near Professor Snape, whom Harry had caught staring at him a few times. It made him worry a bit. Most of all, he simply wanted to lie about in a bed. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Harry was singled out by Percy the prefect.

"Harry, Madam Pomfrey would like to see you this evening. She will notify me when to come fetch you and take you to the tower. She is waiting with Professor McGonagall." He could not help groaning.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Hermione asked. She looked exhausted herself, so he shook his head.

"I will be fine. Go up to the dorm, and sleep, alright?" Harry said more confidently than he felt.

"Yes," she nodded, the strain of the day getting to her as well. "Good night, Harry. Shahbeheh."

"Shahbeheh, Hermione," he said, and then headed away from the group, over to Minerva and Madam Pomfrey.

"Mr. Potter, this is Madam Pomfrey. She will take over your general care here at Hogwarts, and Healer Terrill has requested that you floo to her once a week for physiotherapy."

"Nice to meet you, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said politely.

"How are you feeling this evening, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "If you feel up to it, we will proceed to the Hospital wing so I can check you over."

"Madam Pomfrey, I need a pain potion or something, and to find my bed, please," Harry said, wincing slightly at the idea of being examined just now.

"Perhaps you should sleep in my wing tonight, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, looking concerned.

"Mr. Potter is in pain from standing too much this evening, Poppy, and from the events of the day," Minerva said tightly. Harry wondered if she was nervous. Madam Pomfrey sighed and pulled stoppered potion from a pocket.

"Just this once, since this is your first night at Hogwarts, I will give you a pain potion here. After this, you will come see me. tomorrow you will miss the tour and visit me after breakfast, instead. Do you agree?" Madam Pomfrey gently demanded, glancing at Minerva who agreed.

"Yes, Madam," Harry said with a nod. "Thank you." She uncorked the vial and passed it to Harry. A minute later, it was like night and day, and he felt somewhat revitalized, though still tired.

"I will accompany you to your common room, Harry," Minerva said. They talked of a few things, such as the reminder to call Minerva by Professor McGonagall in classes and such. Harry found that something had been done to the stairs, one side turned into an escalator for him when he stepped on the first step. He would not need this forever, perhaps, but for the moment, it was a very nice accommodation.

No one really remained in the common room. Apparently, the Gryffindor students were all in their dormitory rooms. However, Percy was there waiting, and told Minerva that he would show Harry to his room. Minerva said good night, and left through the portrait hole, while Percy turned to Harry. "Do Let me know if you need anything. Ron told me there is something is wrong with your leg, but he said he promised not to say anything more. Magic can't heal it?"

"I am very tired and need to find my bed, Percy," Harry said politely, feeling guarded. "And no, magic can't heal it anymore, except that my Healer at St. Mungo's is working to find something to help. I really am alright now, thank you." Percy was impressed with Harry's response and politeness, although he remained curious, and a little disturbed that Harry did not choose to confide in him, a newly minted Prefect.

A few minutes later, in the dormitory, where he found he shared a room with Ron, Neville, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan, Harry located his trunk next to his bed. The red plush bed looked so large, warm, and inviting, but first he wanted to brush his teeth and use the loo. Ron and Neville knew about his leg, but had not seen him without it, and the other two? Harry was tired and frankly did not care for the time being. He changed into pyjamas, pulling off his prosthetic while he was at it. Honestly, he had just needed it off already, much earlier in the day if he was truly honest. He set it next to his bed, and then got up on his crutches to head to the loo. He heard a few gasps behind him, but he was too tired to feel any sense of self-consciousness. It was obvious his pyjama leg was empty. Dean and Seamus had tried to ask what was 'wrong' earlier, but now they could see for themselves (although he was aware there was nothing 'wrong' with him, but sometimes it did still feel so different yet to not have his leg.) He was tempted to ask them to keep it a secret from the rest of the school, but kept his mouth closed because he did not want to have to explain the story to everyone. Might as well let rumours fly?

The next morning, he woke early after a nightmare, and rose to use the showers in peace and quiet. He had found that Minerva had altered one of the shower stalls just for him. Unfortunately, it was not a bathtub (he had fallen in love with taking baths over the summer), but she had added a very nice shower chair, grab bars, a low shelf to place items, and charmed the stall so that it could be used only by Harry. He would thank her profusely later. During his warm shower, he wondered if there would be a spell or charm to cause music of his choice to play while the shower ran.
After a long shower, he reached the space next to his bed, ready to change into his clothes. He wondered if he must absolutely wear trousers, or if he could wear jeans under his robes. He preferred the feel of his jeans, although the trousers weren't so bad. He decided he should wear trousers for the first day, so he laid out his clothes beside himself on the bed. He removed his pyjama bottoms, and then noticed that Ron was still in his bed and watching him drowsily.

"Does it hurt?" Ron asked groggily, and then shook his head as if trying to clear it as he sat up.

"What hurt?" Harry asked absently as he reached for his prosthetic leg. This had nearly become normal now, and he just wanted to get dressed.

"Your l-leg, or – or, er, what's left of it," Ron stumbling over his words. Harry smirked at him in some amusement.

"It's okay to ask this one time, since we're friends now," he replied. "I just don't want to be asked time after time, alright? Yes, sometimes my residual limb hurts, but this magical prosthetic is ten times better than the muggle one I had for about seven weeks before I found out I was a wizard. This one grows with me. The old one didn't, and I grew quite a lot this summer. The old one was really painful. I kept taking it off and going without it."

"Blimey, it's amazing that it grows! I grew up knowing about magic, but no idea about things like this," Ron said, his mouth hanging open again. Their words began waking up their roommates, so Ron watched quietly while Harry stood up on his right leg, and got the prosthetic secured on his left. Harry did not mind much because he wanted to get the surprise of this done and over with as much as possible. He had heard some of the whispering in the Great Hall the night before. They were wondering why the Boy Who Lived was using crutches, because they had never heard anything about it. Apparently, he figured into some of the fairy tales their parents told them. He did not want them to know that his muggle uncle did this to him. That was not a fairy tale.

Harry finished dressing as Ron and the others scurried off to shower. He checked the time, and it was almost time for breakfast to begin in the Great Hall. He gathered up his school bag (not the old one from the Dursleys, but one Tara and Tim had surprised him with), putting quills, ink, parchment, a 'muggle' notebook, and the books he thought he may need that day. He did not want to need to come back up to the tower during the days. Even with the escalator spell, it was a little too much.

When Harry arrived in the common room, he saw one person. Hermione. Of course, she would wake early, too.

"Harry!" she called out from a chair near the fireplace. "Are you ready for breakfast? We're permitted to go down at any time. We'll get our schedules!" Hermione bounced on her bottom. She had been doing a lot of that sort of thing recently.

"Excited, are you?" Harry asked as he approached her. "Yes, I am ready for breakfast. And you have the tour this morning. Are you going to lead?" He had just intended to tease her, but she took it quite seriously.

"No, actually. Professor McGonagall said that I can shadow her, and next year I could lead tours that we'll plan for August for the new students, before term begins," Hermione explained. Harry wanted to chuckle, but she would be hurt if he did.

"Er, that sounds good, Hermione," Harry said and then added, "I didn't finish with Madam Pomfrey last night, so I will miss the tour this morning."

"Really? Oh, that's alright since you were already on our tour in July. Do you remember where the classrooms are? If not, I will look for you after the tour, and you can walk with me to the classroom. Let's go down and get our schedules," Hermione said quickly, putting things back in her bag. Harry's stomach rumbled.

"And breakfast," he said. "I wonder if there will be bacon." Hermione rolled her eyes only the slightest bit.

-Break-

After breakfast, which they had been early to compared to many of the other first years and during which Professor McGonagall passed out their schedules, Hermione joined the Professor's side to wait for the others to gather. The older students passed by hurrying off to their first classes of the morning, some of them wishing loudly that they had been given a tour the first day of school rather than be at the mercy of prefects who may or may not help them. Professor McGonagall kept her council about this, but Harry could see the wheels turning in her mind.
Harry went off with Madam Pomfrey to the Hospital wing. It was up one set of stairs, and they turned into an escalator as well. She told him as they went that she had read his entire file, and that she was sorry she had not been available in July. He said, a bit timidly, that she needed a holiday, too. Once in the Hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey led him to a bed along the left side.

"This was your father's favourite bed when he was a student here," she announced, giving him a brief smile.

"Er, was he here a lot?" he asked, sitting down when she indicated he should.

"Oh, yes, he and his friends got into trouble of all sorts! He also played Quidditch quite aggressively, so
he was a frequent visitor," she said as she encouraged him to lay back on the bed.

"Mr. Potter, I have studied your medical file, and have seen the pictures of your leg. I know that your Healers at St. Mungo's are working on your hip issues, and some of us on staff here at Hogwarts will be working on this, too. We want to do the very best for you," Madam Pomfrey said. Harry nodded. He figured they also felt bad that any of this had happened to him.

"I am going to do my own scan to see if you have grown more and how your nutrition is coming along, alright?"

"Alright," Harry agreed. It was peacefully quiet except for themselves in this large room. It was nice to have this break after the noisy Great Hall during breakfast, so he closed his eyes and focused on the magic buzz he was getting from Madam Pomfrey's wand. A few minutes later, she announced,

"All done, Mr. Potter. You have grown three more centimetres since July! That is excellent. Your nutrition has improved as well and it appears to be almost back to normal levels." She went on to talk about several other things with him, and then finally said he was free to go. He pulled out his schedule, and then realized that the tour was not over yet when Minerva (Professor McGonagall - He needed to remember that) appeared at the door of the wing with the group of first years. Hermione waved to him.

He was ready to go so joined Hermione as Minerva brought in the group. He saw Ron, Neville, and from Slytherin, Draco. Harry waved at them and smiled. Other students were still looking at him quite curiously, at his legs and at his crutches, seemingly still wondering what was 'wrong' with him. He wondered if Seamus Finnigan had started spreading it about yet, as he seemed the sort to gossip. Seamus was amongst the group, not far from Harry, and whispering to Dean. Hmm, maybe he hasn't talked to anyone else, then. Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey came over to speak to the group at Minerva's invitation. This school year, Madam Pomfrey would give all the first years a short physical, to be sure that everyone was fit to learn, and that this would be the first year such a thing would be done. Harry thought this a great idea, though he wondered if Minerva or even Tara had come up with it. He supposed it did not really matter too much. It was being done. Hermione smiled at him. Perhaps it had been Hermione!

Soon they would be off to their first class. Harry could not wait!

A/N – I have been struggling with posting this chapter because it felt too cheesy in places.

Chapter Text

Note - This chapter covers September to December 1991. I thought about lengthening it, but now, I like how this one flows for the most part. The second half contain letters, as I do rather like reading epistolatory stories. I used to be quite a letter writer myself.

Chapter 14: Normal Life at Hogwarts?

After their first Potions class on Tuesday morning, during which Professor Snape tried to trick Harry by asking some difficult questions but that Harry answered correctly, having done a great deal of reading and discussion with Hermione, Snape asked Harry to stay after class for a moment. Anxiety surged immediately throughout his body. Hermione whispered to him that he would be fine, that Snape was not really a bad sort, and she would wait for him outside the room. Ron looked reluctant to leave Harry with the professor, as he had differing opinions about him. “Come on, Ron,” Hermione said, tugging at his arm. They headed for the classroom door.

Professor Snape walked towards Harry with some obvious purpose once the room cleared.

“Mr. Potter,” he said with much less malice in his voice than during the Potions class. “I have been tasked with creating a potion to help your hip injury.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said as some relief flowed through his body. He was not in trouble. “Thank you, sir.”

“I have seen your medical records, but I would like to see you walk without the crutches, to get a sense of wherein the problem lies.”

“I don’t walk very well, Professor,” Harry said.

“Indeed. That’s what we’re trying to fix, isn’t it?” There was a touch of sarcasm in Snape’s voice, and then a sigh. “I won’t let you fall, if that’s why you’re worried. I really do wish to help you and a fall will not do.”

“Alright, sir,” Harry replied softly, giving in. He stood up and balanced using the chair back and the desk. At Snape’s somewhat encouraging nod (which rather surprised Harry), he moved his prosthetic leg forward taking a small step, and then transferred his weight to the prosthetic side, and brought his right leg forward. Snape seemed to be watching his movements closely. He began to repeat the actions but stumbled forward as his prosthetic foot had not quite cleared the floor as he thought it had. Snape reached out to catch Harry, then passed him the crutches. Harry took them gratefully, and after he had them sorted out, said, “Thanks, Professor.”

“Potter, I can see why you are having these problems. However, we don’t have many potions that work on nerves exceptionally well. It may take some time to find what may work for you, perhaps a few months minimum,” Professor Snape stated, suddenly looking at Harry with squinted dark eyes that hinted at kindness.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said timidly. “I will wait. Thank you, Professor Snape.”

Snape gestured towards the door. “You’re free to go to your next class, Mr. Potter.” Harry slung his book bag over his shoulder and swung off to join his friends. He really hoped that his gruff Potions teacher would be able to find something that worked.

In Charms class with Professor Flitwick, they learned how to make things levitate. Ron and Neville had a difficult time with this, but Hermione attempted to help them after she successfully managed to get her feather to float nicely right above their heads. Harry had already been practicing some of his wand moves as he had read the textbook at the end of the summer. Now he put them together with Wingardium Leviosa, and on his sixth attempt, his feather rose so fast that it hit the high ceiling and then began to drift downward at a much slower pace.

“Oh, my, Mr. Potter,” Flitwick said. “That was quite impressive!” The other students in the classroom stared him. Even Hermione’s mouth hung open. It was apparent that none of them expected him to do such a thing. He heard a muttered “show-off” from the back of the room where the majority of the Slytherins were seated. Harry tried to melt into his seat, but Professor Flitwick would not allow him to do so. “Mr. Potter, you have the intention, but now you must learn to control it.”

“Intention?” Hermione whispered to herself. “Yes, intention is the key word.” Ron heard her whisper and he began trying again to lift his feather, while attempting to direct his intent as well. By the end of class, Ron was able to get his feather to hover just over the tabletop for a few moments. Harry had been trying to give more controlled intent to his charm. His feather kept flying off in all sorts of directions, and Professor Flitwick would send it back to him.

History of Magic was taught by Professor Bins, a ghost. Harry and Hermione were bored. They had read most of the textbook already, and it seemed that typically students did not learn much in this class besides the Goblin Wars. Hermione took notes, but not with her usual enthusiasm. They confirmed this with Fred and George Weasley at supper in the Great Hall.

Harry enjoyed Transfiguration. They had been looking forward to it since it was Minerva’s love. Oh, Professor McGonagall since it was during the school day. They were to work on changing a match to a needle. Most students seemed to struggle with this, but mid-way through class, Hermione had succeeded. Harry, feeling competitive, realized that just like Charms, he needed to have intention again, not just attention. He tried again, and his match transformed into a needle, mostly. It had a very blunt end, though, not sharp like Hermione’s. At least it had not flown uncontrollably around the room or some other such thing. They, as well as Draco, were the only students successful. Professor McGonagall was quite strict in her classroom, just as she had told them she would be.

Harry was at breakfast early later that week when a note was delivered to him. It was from Professor Dumbledore.
Mr. Potter, I have been informed that you would like to speak with me. Please see me before classes begin this morning. Professor McGonagall will accompany you to my office. I look forward to meeting you.
Harry folded up the parchment. So, he was getting a chance to talk with the Headmaster. He finished eating quickly, and then got up from the table. Hermione, Ron, and Neville had just come down for breakfast, so he told them where he was going, and that he would meet them at Potions after. He looked up at the staff table, and Minerva nodded. She was done as well, it appeared. He adjusted the cross strap of his bag and set off to meet her at the staff table. Some of the other students teased him that he was in trouble. The rumour was finally going around that he did not have a leg, but no one knew the reason why, and it seemed there was a great deal of speculation on which leg it was and how it had happened. A popular theory was that his leg was cursed off by You-Know-Who when he was a baby. For the moment, anyway, he was fine with this because it sounded infinitely more interesting than what had really happened.

He was anxious about asking Dumbledore why he made him live with the Dursleys. Maybe he wouldn’t have the courage to ask after all. He had discussed some of this vaguely with his muggle counsellor in the summer. Vaguely because he could not mention magic to her.
After he and Professor McGonagall made it past the Gargoyle, Harry started to feel angry. He was used to keeping his feelings stuffed inside, but now, it wanted to come out. He felt a breeze whip by him.
“Harry, I believe that wind was yours? You will need to learn how to control your anger,” she said to him kindly. “It can set off your magic.”
“Okay,” Harry said, taking a deep breath, attempting to reign it in. After a moment, Professor McGonagall knocked on the Headmaster’s office door.
“Come in!” Dumbledore said from the other side. Harry moved inside the room, noticing all sort of interesting things in a glance around, and then looked up at Professor Dumbledore with a vague dislike that Dumbledore seemed surprised to see.

“Mr. Potter, it is wonderful to see you again after so long!” Dumbledore said, but Harry simply looked at him for a few more moments. This was the man who had indirectly caused him to lose his leg, because he had placed him in the home of Vernon Dursley. Harry surprised himself by just how much venom he felt towards this wizard he had just met.

“Professor,” Harry nearly snarled, “why did you make me live with those people?” An agonizing feeling of overwhelming emotion made his head hurt, but he locked eyes with Dumbledore. “They hated me. They called me freak. Ron Weasley said the stories about me say that I grew up with my loving relatives. That is far from the truth. Where did everyone get these stories? Not from me.” He shook his head vehemently.

“I . . . I, I am very sorry, Harry. I thought that the Dursleys would come around eventually, that they would become a loving family for you,” Dumbledore said calmly. Harry wanted to growl at the man.

“Aunt Petunia started to come around in the hours after my leg was nearly hacked off by her own husband, and the infection had already set in. I almost died! She wants me to forgive her, and I have, mostly, but you, Professor Dumbledore, I am not ready to forgive you yet,” Harry said forcefully, with a little sneer. Dumbledore considered him for a few quiet moments.

“I am going to try to make this up to you in any way possible, Harry. I admit I was wrong. I wanted you to grow up out of the spotlight of the Wizarding world. Your aunt was meant to tell you about magic and Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said almost meekly, turning pleading eyes on Harry. He was well-aware he was in the wrong here. He and Minerva had had several long discussions in the past few weeks.

“Well, she didn’t. She just always agreed with Uncle Vernon when he said I was a freak,” Harry said as Minerva (he had gone back to thinking of her as Minerva) gently pulled him down to sit on a chair next to her. He glanced at her, seeking support, and she gave it willingly with a gentle, encouraging smile. Harry felt his asthma revving up, and he knew in part it was his emotions, but he willed himself to keep breathing as normally as possible.

“I am going to bring in a Mind Healer to see you regularly,” Dumbledore said.
“Is a Mind Healer like my muggle counsellor?” Harry asked, surprised out of his anger a bit. Minerva squeezed his hand.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied. “You are understandably angry, and I don’t blame you for feeling this way, Harry. It is a good thing Minerva has magical guardianship of you now. If you have any problems and issues here at Hogwarts, please see her at any time. Correct, Minerva?” At Minerva’s short, polite nod (Harry wondered if she was trying to hide anger, too), Dumbledore continued. “I could have prevented Minerva from taking your guardianship, Harry, but I know now I have made some grievous mistakes. Minerva will be good for you, and she knew your parents well. I cannot think of anyone better suited. As for your adoptive Muggle parents? Provided Minerva approves their presence in your life, to provide you with a stable family life, then I approve as well.”

“Really, sir?” Harry asked. He had been expecting to be punished for his outburst, and it appeared he would not be.

“Yes, dear boy. I will speak with you in the future, but I do believe your Potions class is about to begin, and Minerva must go to her classroom soon as well. I will contact Minerva about a time to meet again so we can have further discussion,” Dumbledore said, and Harry stood up. He decided consciously to think about ignoring Dumbledore for now, at least until next week. He noticed Minerva gave Dumbledore a nod so stiff Harry wondered if she hurt her neck. At least he had kept his magic under control during the meeting. And at least he did not have to fear Vernon Dursley anymore! That thought and reminder did the best to cheer himself up. He hurried off to Potions.

---Break----

(Very Select Letters and Notes, as they all correspond more frequently than shown here!)

8 Sept 1991
Dear Tara and Tim,
How are you? I am fine, really fine, not fake fine. We had a flying lesson on Friday last. I love flying! Others had more trouble with it, because the school brooms are not very good, or so some say who grew up flying. It seems I have natural talent, or so Minerva says. She has put me on the Gryffindor Quidditch team even though I am only a first year. First years usually never get to play on the house teams, but they made an exception for me, because I am so good (and a Seeker was needed.) I will give it a go. My first practice is tomorrow. I love flying because I feel so free and can move so fast. Hermione does not like flying yet. I don’t understand, really, because it is just so much fun to be up in the air. They are going to put sticking charms on me so I don’t accidently fall off, but I don’t think I will anyway. Classes are going well, except History of Magic. It is taught by a boring old ghost. Otherwise, learning lots. Write back. Miss you.
Harry

10 Sept 1991
Dear Harry,
We miss you, too! We have gotten so used to you being a part of our family. We cannot wait until your Christmas holidays! Please be very careful playing Quidditch. It seems it could be a dangerous game. Otherwise, enjoy flying, Harry joon. Glad about the sticking charms. I do not want to be called to consult at Hogwarts, although, then I would get to see you, after all! I have been consulted for two severe orthopaedic cases at St. Mungo’s now. For one of them, I suggested a new muggle technique for repairing a tendon injury (they can mend the bones, but soft tissue is an area the wizarding world has not improved much on yet, it seems.) They would not have been able to repair your leg very well, Harry, and I see that now, especially as I learn more about magic. I was also consulted on a case from St. Mungo’s yesterday, which is why I could not reply sooner. A young witch came in after a ‘muggle’ car accident. I am afraid I had to advise the removal of her mangled right leg, but I helped save her left leg. Magic is marvellous, but so is muggle medicine. Together we can do great things. I hope that as you grow up, you will consider such a career. I know you have been interested. Keep up your studies, ALL of your studies, so that your options are open.
Love, Tara

19 Sept 1991
Dear Mum and Dad,
Thank you so much for the gift package for my birthday! I know that you said all the books I bought in the summer would be my birthday gift, but I still appreciated getting something from you anyway. I loved the rice cookies, and I shared them around earlier in the Great Hall at lunch.

I am keeping up with my studies and doing lots of extra research. You know me! I am working on maths, again, too. As we already knew, we do not study that here, and I plan to continue to teach myself algebra. I know we had discussed waiting to see what the workload would be like here, but I already know that I can fit it in my schedule. Harry is fitting Quidditch into his schedule. I am quite sure he has written you. He has no problem flying, while I do. I AM aware I am not good at everything. Harry still finds time to study together, though. We’re trying to get our friends Ron and Neville to study with us as well, but only Neville has fully agreed. Ron is less than enthusiastic about the idea. Still, we do get him to join us at least once a week. Harry has been reading anatomy and orthopaedics books again, Mum. Did you allow him to borrow some of yours?
Love, Hermione

20 Sept 1991
Dear Hermione joon,
I am please you are keeping up with your studies. Yes, I lent Harry several books. I do not need the titles I loaned him at present. Some of them are old textbooks. Please try not to worry, joon. We are doing fine here. We miss you and Harry both. We are also already considering holiday travel for next summer. We won’t know for certain until spring, but we may go to the USA. There is an international conference that I may be able to attend if I prepare and submit some work to present. If all goes well, we will all go. I know you love to travel, and we did not do much of it this year, of course. I will not tell you where in the USA until we know for sure, because I know you, coochooloo, you will want to research all the places to see as well as the history. That would distract you from your schoolwork, would it? Write again, soon!
Love,
Mum (and Dad)

25 Sept 1991
Dear Tina joon,
To answer your latest letter, yes, I am quite well. I hope this finds you the same. I do miss you, Tara joon and Tim, and my quiet bedroom, but I am really enjoying it here. I can feel the magic in the castle. It is amazing, really. I am studying hard for my classes. We need to write essays of certain lengths of parchment. I try to write nicely, but I am still having issues with the quill and ink. I am sure I will get better at it. I do have some Muggle ballpoints along. The magical world finds something special about quills. I am the Seeker now for Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. It is a very exciting game, but I am maybe a little safer than the others because I get to hang about and watch for the Snitch. I can dive on my broom fast when I see the Snitch. I have not fallen off yet. Our first match isn’t until first of November, so I have more time to practice. I have not had time to read as much for fun anymore, but I am studying Tara joon’s medical books.
Harry

26 Sept 1991
Dear Harry,
It sounds like you are having a good time. I am so pleased for you, especially after what you were going through only five months ago. It seems that you have found another place where you belong, now. This is very important to you, I know.

Be careful diving on your broom! I do NOT want to see you back in hospital. I know magic can fix bones if not too complicated, but please do not put it to the test!
See you at Christmas hols,
Aunt Tina

10 Oct 1991
Dear Hermione and Harry,
I will be at Hogwarts on my next day off. Minerva and I will go over the magic work that I have been practicing at home! I will let you both know when I have arrived. I am anticipating Saturday next. I understand it is unusual for parents to visit the castle, but now that I am being tutored, I am not really visiting just to see you two. See you very soon!
Love,
Mum

20 Oct 1991
Dear Mum,
I am so happy that you like Hogwarts, even though it is old-fashioned. I knew you would agree with me on that. I am helping Minerva (although Harry and I are doing well calling her Professor McGonagall whilst in class) with some research. We have discussed changing some things to bring it more up to date, as you know. There are so many things that could be done with the school, but we need to be patient. Sometimes it is hard for me to be patient. I get these ideas and make lists, but you know that. I have been getting better at writing with a quill as you see. I think that is one of the things that should be taught to muggle-born students before they come to Hogwarts, because it takes a bit of skill. Harry is struggling with it still. Some of the teachers let him write on parchment with muggle ball point, but others require quill.

Speaking of Harry, he met with Dumbledore last night. Dumbledore kept him there a while, and when Harry returned to the common room, he looked confused. I will try to ask him today what Dumbledore said, and please do not tell me it’s none of my business. We’re adopting him, so we should let him know he can talk to us. Right?

Hope to see you again soon, Mum,
Hermione

5 Nov 1991
Dear Harry,
We are glad to hear that your first Quidditch match went so well. They made the right choice to allow you to play as a first year. Congratulations on keeping up on your studies as well. Minerva is letting us know how you are faring occasionally. Don’t be angry with us. It is because we love you so much. We enjoy hearing how you are faring.

Speaking of loving you, we are finalizing the last paperwork for your “muggle” adoption when you come home for holidays. I know you said you don’t want to change your name, but Minerva told us about a loophole, so to speak. It seems your name will remain legally Harry James Potter in the magical world, because that is important for inheritance and such. However, in the ‘muggle’ world, we could change it if you desire to. You could use your St. Mungo’s alias or something similar, but only if you would like to. Please owl back your thoughts on this.
Love,
Tara and Tim

12 Nov 1991
Dear Tara and Tim,
It took a week to think about my name. I have talked to Hermione and Minerva about it. Minerva supports me taking on my alias in the muggle world. I would like to keep Potter in as my middle name. Harrison Potter Granger should work nicely. It might protect me more when I am outside of Hogwarts. No, I cannot share yet what exactly Dumbledore told me, but I am fine. Please don’t worry too much! He did tell me some more information about my birth parents. Tim, thank you for the new tapes. Sometimes I listen at night in bed, just before I go to sleep. It helps block out noise, so I relax better. School work is going well, and so are my muggle subjects I am trying to keep up on with Hermione. At study sessions and meals, Ron and Neville join us. Ron is better at studying than he thinks he is, but he just really does not want to do it. Ron could be better at potions if he really put his mind to it. I like potions class a lot. Professor Snape is relatively kind to me compared to other Gryffindor students, though. If I want to be a Healer and a doctor someday, I will need to know potions. Neville is very good at Herbology. Have you read any potions or herbology books yet, Tara joon? I know you are enjoying your wand and the spells you can do now (even we don’t know that many yet!), but for these subjects, you don’t even really need a wand most of the time.
I will write again soon. Quidditch practice starts now.
Harry

01 Dec 1991
Harry, enclosed is U2’s new album, Achtung Baby. I believe you will enjoy most of the music. Let me know what you think. I hope you are caring for your teeth correctly. I shall take you into the office for your six-month cleaning during your holidays. I have also enclosed a new toothbrush and floss. I have also sent a toothbrush and floss to Hermione.
Enjoy,
Tim

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: December 1991

Harry and Hermione returned home for Christmas a few days before, arriving at King’s Cross Station on the Hogwarts express. Though they loved their experiences at Hogwarts (except for some of the odd things), they were happy to be home for a few weeks. After they tired of chatting with their friends on the train, Harry listened to his Walkman, keeping his eyes out the window watching the passing landscape, while Hermione read. Harry’s favourite song on the U2 album was ‘Mysterious Ways.’ He loved the beat, but mostly he had been living in this new mysterious world, and so particularly loved it. They were most fortunate to have survived the troll. They did not write home about the troll incident, and as far as they knew, Minerva had not shared anything about it.

The food trolley came, and Harry bought a few sweets, because he wanted to show Tim the chocolate frogs (Tim had a secret sweet tooth, and Harry knew it.) Hermione got a couple of pumpkin pasties for them to share. After their lunch, Draco wandered by and stopped in to talk to Harry for a bit. Draco did not seem to really care for most of his housemates, some of whom he had known since he was little. Harry teased that he should have asked the hat to be sorted into Gryffindor. Draco looked away and mumbled that his father expected him in Slytherin as Malfoys are always in Slytherin. Hermione informed him that he was welcome to come study with them in the library after holidays were over. Draco seemed open to the idea, as he expressed his interest in breaking away from his father but did not go into any more detail.

Over autumn, besides studying, reading, and listening to music, Harry found that flying allowed him to feel safe. Flying felt a bit like home. It also had the added benefit that he could move so much faster in the air than on land. He loved it with a passion he had never quite felt before. He loved playing Quidditch for Gryffindor as well. He had successfully caught the Snitch in the matches he had played. He wondered if he could play professionally someday but was not sure how that would help people. He wished to help people. Perhaps he could play Quidditch for a couple of years, and then go into medicine? At the same time, he was eleven years old. He decided he could decide all of this later.

Classes were going well, even Potions. Harry found he enjoyed Potions very much. He found it easy to follow the directions and was quite successful most of the time. Harry still occasionally had some spells and charms go overboard in terms of results, but his professors all agreed amongst themselves that Harry was powerful. He just had to learn to better control it. He knew this full well himself, with no need to be told. He and Hermione read ahead as much as possible, even though Ron still thought they were mad. Hermione had hopes that their parents would find time to take them to Diagon Alley to purchase more books, particularly the year two books so they could move ahead and have the summer open for studying Muggle subjects. Harry loved learning things, whether from a book or not, while Hermione seemed addicted to the written word. He appreciated that he could learn as much as he wanted now without fear of Uncle Vernon and did not want to squander the opportunity.

Still, Harry had the nerve issues in his hip, and walking was not getting much easier. He was able to walk distances in the Gryffindor common room with one crutch used for balance when he would inevitably stumble, which he was gradually getting used to. Still, he used both when about in any place else in the castle or on the grounds. All the students had got used to seeing him around and gossip had seemed to stop for the most part, from what he had observed. He knew there was still speculation as to what had happened to him and why magic could not fix it, but he was happy to just let them talk. Maybe they would get bored of it someday. He still went to PT at St. Mungo’s once a week. Harry still had some hope that someone would solve the nerve problem. He went to St. Mungo’s via Floo, from Hogwarts, with Madam Pomfrey.

On another note, Harry was still not used to his fame as The Boy Who Lived. In fact, it bothered him quite a lot. He still felt bewildered by everyone’s expectations, and particularly by Professor Dumbledore’s. It helped when Aunt Tina sent humorous letters, sometimes with fictional stories. Hermione told him that Aunt Tina liked to write fiction but did not think herself good enough to be published. It helped relieve her from dealing with the difficult things in her job. It also seemed that Aunt Tina had a new boyfriend. Hermione could not wait to meet him.

After they arrived home, their family enjoyed some excellent Persian food and one another’s company, and then they headed off to bed. In the morning, Harry’s adoption would be finalized.

Christmas 1991

Harry woke early Christmas morning, stretched, and then decided he ought to take a shower to be very clean for the first real Christmas he could remember. They had already celebrated Yalda (Persian solstice) four days before, the evening after Harry’s adoption was declared permanent. Aunt Tina had made a Persian roulette to stand in for a traditional Yule log and had brought along her new boyfriend. His name was Kian, and his father was originally from Iran, while his mother was entirely English, back generations. Tina planned to go to meet Kian’s family the following day. Harry recalled how nervous Tina seemed to be about this. He was glad he was not of an age to date yet.

After the shower, he pulled on his leg and then dressed neatly in his favourite jumper with jeans as the house seemed chilly to him, although not as cold as Hogwarts could be. In the kitchen, the fireplace flickered while Tara was preparing a traditional English breakfast. Nice and warm in here!

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” She said as she stirred the scrambled eggs.

“Happy Christmas! What may I do to help?” Harry asked. He wanted to help with the food, even though sometimes it still reminded him of being at the Dursleys. However, here he got to eat as much food as he liked, but he refused to take it for granted. Food was too precious, but he had admitted to his mind healer that sometimes it seemed like he was obsessed with thinking about food, and he was not sure if that was normal. That lead to several discussions about what may constitute ‘normal.’

“Let’s have you prepare the bowl of fruit, Harry joon. I bought a variety yesterday at Tesco. Here are your favourite oranges,” she said, giving him a quick smile. “Grapes, pomegranates, and cherries for me. Mmmm.”

“I’m glad you don’t have to work today, Tara joon,” Harry said, setting his crutches aside as he stood in front of the large decorative bowl.

“I’m not on call as I was last year,” Tara said. “Particularly when you came into our lives, I knew that I needed to have Christmas off this year.”

“Harry!” Hermione called from outside the kitchen. “Did you see all the gifts under the tree? I think some were delivered by owl!” She appeared in the doorway, dressed festively in new clothes as not only had Harry grown, but Hermione had, too. Healer Terrill had charmed Harry’s crutches to expand with his height. Harry had grown another six cm since July. He was no longer one of the shortest boys in their year, much to his relief. His prosthetic leg seemed to be keeping up as well, adjusting as he grew, just as promised.

“Yes,” Harry said. He could not believe the number of gifts there were. Briefly his thoughts flickered to Dudley. Did he get as many gifts as usual, or because Uncle Vernon was in prison, maybe there weren’t so many gifts this year? He wondered how things were for Aunt Petunia and Dudley. He had been thinking about them more and more often. Should he send them a letter? Maybe?

“After I finish the fruit, I need write a letter,” he said nervously and abruptly. He focused on the fruit but could feel Tara’s eyes on him.

“Do you wish to write to your Aunt Petunia?” Tara asked as she passed some plates to Hermione to start setting the table. Harry nodded his head slowly as he came to a definitive answer.

“Yes,” Harry finally said and continued his explanation, “I am worried about her and Dudley for some reason. It’s Christmas and it will different for them. I feel I shouldn’t be worried about Dudley, since he caused the problems with my hip, but I don’t know. I just worry.”

“You are compassionate, Harry joon,” Tara said. “It’s one of the qualities that makes you, you.” She rubbed his back a little. “Go write your letter. You can send it over with Hedwig. She needs exercise.”

Harry was just about finished with the fruit, so he took off for his room. He sat at his desk with his wizarding writing tools and wrote a letter as neatly as he could with the quill, because he could.

25 Dec 1991
Dear Aunt Petunia,
Happy Christmas. How are you? I am doing well. Thank you for allowing the Shayani-Grangers to adopt me. I am very happy. It is the best gift ever.

I have been thinking about you, and I have a few things to say. First, I forgive you for not calling an ambulance. I have been talking about it with my Mind Healer, and I have asked everyone possible if getting help earlier – even Magical help – would have made a difference to whether I lost my leg or not. The conclusion is that earlier attention to the injuries would have helped, but I may still have lost my leg because it was so badly damaged. Therefore, I forgive you. You took me to hospital eventually, and that helped save my life.

I have thought about talking with you, but only if one of my new family accompanies me. I hope we can work this out. Perhaps very soon as I am home on hols from school.

You are aware that I went to Hogwarts? Dumbledore told me that he left a letter with you when I was a baby, to explain about magic and being a wizard. It was surprising last July when a witch showed up on the front doorstep. My new sister is also a witch, which was an even bigger surprise since they did not know they were a half-wizarding family. My new mum has latent magic. She just found out in the summer, too. Why didn’t you share magic with me? I know that Uncle Vernon wanted nothing to do with magic, but you could have talked to me privately about it. Right?

I don’t know if I am ready to see Dudley yet. He really hurt me. That push down the stairs a few years ago left a permanent injury that was found over the summer, too. If we meet, then perhaps I will share why this old injury is affecting my life now.

Regards,
Harry

P.S. This letter will be delivered by Hedwig, my owl. Please write back and send it with Hedwig. She knows where to find me.

Harry rolled up the letter and went to find Hedwig. He tied it on carefully and let Hedwig out the window. She hooted at him as she took off in a rush of feathers. He smiled. He was not sure if his letter was all that good, but he had been honest. Maybe I talked about myself too much, though?

It was time for their breakfast. He smiled as he entered the kitchen again and approached the table. Tara, Tim, and Hermione were just sitting down. He felt much better now that he had communicated with his aunt.

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” Tim said boisterously.

“Happy Christmas, Tim,” Harry replied looking at his new father. “It feels like I’ve already had Christmas because all of you adopted me.” His smile widened further, glancing around at them all. Taraneh started crying.

“I’m so happy you’re so happy, Harry joon,” she sobbed, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

“You will always be a big part of our family, Harry,” Tim said, his eyes looking a bit wet around the edges as well.

“Harry, it was also like Christmas in the summer when we found out we are magical!” Hermione said.

“Yeah!” Harry agreed with shining eyes. His life was very different now than a year ago. He just wished, in the back of his mind, that it had not taken losing his leg to make things change. He wondered if he would have even received his Hogwarts letter if he had still lived with the Dursleys. Probably not. Uncle Vernon hated magic of any kind.

“Let’s eat, and then we can open our gifts as soon as Tina arrives,” Tara said, wiping at her eyes again.

About an hour later, they were gathered around the tree. Harry sat in his favourite chair in the sitting room, placed conveniently next to the twinkling tree. Hermione seated herself on the floor by the tree so she could pass around the gifts. Tim and Tara were seated on the nearby couch. Tina decided she would sit on the floor with Hermione, because she wanted to spend more time with her niece.

As they passed the gifts around, Harry astounded to find nine of them just for himself. He received new winter clothing (which he had needed), a few more cassette tapes, a couple of books and some bubble bath from Hermione, a blank book to write in from Aunt Tina, and then finally, a jumper with a “H” knitted on it. It was from the Weasleys! He had never had such a Christmas before. As everyone finished unwrapping their gifts and thanking each other, Tim called their attention.

“We have one more gift to give. It is a family experience which will be enjoyed this spring. Tina, you are invited, too, and Kian will be more than welcome to come as well,” Tim said. “Here, Harry. Open this envelope, please. Tell us what it contains.”

Harry took the envelope in his hands. Softly, he lifted the open flap, and gaped at what was inside. These appeared to be tickets! Tickets to see U2 live in London on the last day of May!

“U2 tickets,” he managed to get out. He was going to a live concert! Wait a moment, there was probably school that day. Hogwarts did not let out until the end of June. “What about school?” Hermione looked stricken about missing precious study time and solving mysteries going on at school, but she was fighting with her fun side. She was very excited about the concert, and happy, once again, for Harry.

“Yes, it is a Friday, but we’ve already got permission from Professor McGonagall that you may floo here that morning and stay over until Saturday. Harry, you are not playing a Quidditch match that weekend. We’ve got it all worked out,” Tim said, just as excited as Harry.

Harry, still in a bit of shock, stood up. It was only about four steps over to Tim and Tara on the couch. Maybe he would make it over there without falling. He felt all their eyes on him as he took a tentative step, and then two more small steps, and then he stumbled forward, landing in Tim’s lap. Tim wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight. Harry did not fight it. He didn’t want to fight it. This man was his adoptive father. He was not frightened anymore. Trolls were scary. Uncle Vernon was scary, but Tim? He was so kind and gentle. The only scary part was that Tim was a dentist!

“Thank you,” Harry breathed, as Tim rubbed his back. Tears ran down both of their cheeks. Soon he become aware that everyone else was crying, too. He looked over at Tara joon wiping at her eyes again. Tim saw this and helped him sit between them on the soft green couch. He brushed at his eyes with his sleeve, and then said,

“I didn’t mean to upset everyone. I feel very emotional today,” and then in more of a mumble, “I’m not usually like this.”

“Oh, you didn’t upset us, coochooloo,” Tara said, holding his hand in hers. “We are happy for you, we are happy we are able to give you the kind of life you deserve. We are happy to have the opportunity to love you. Everyone needs love in their lives.” She kissed Harry’s hand gently. He put his head on her shoulder.

“Everyone deserves to go to concerts, too,” Tim said, patting Harry’s leg. He was somewhat amazed that Tim seemed to know that Harry was still anxious about this.

Harry did not notice that Tina had helped Hermione up off the floor, and they disappeared into the kitchen. As he, Tara, and Tim sat quietly on the couch, there was a knock at the window. Harry looked up, and saw it was Hedwig! She was back already, and had paper attached to her leg. He motioned to her to go around to the mudroom. Tim reached for Harry’s crutches with the assumption that he would not wish to attempt to walk across the house without them.

“It’s from Aunt Petunia. I know it,” Harry whispered as he took his crutches, and with no idea how to feel about this, he decided it would be best to go read it.

“Would you like one of us to accompany you?” Tara asked, also in a whisper. He shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Harry said, although he knew very well that he often said in the past that he was fine when he really was not. He got up and went down the hall, just as Tina and Hermione came in with the tea service and biscuits.

“Harry! Tea is ready!” Hermione called after him with a worried look on her expressive face.

“I’ll be right back,” he called, just before he reached the room where they kept their owls. He opened the door and grinned when he saw Hedwig settling onto her perch, the open window behind her. It was a mild day outside, but cloudy. Fortunately, it was not raining. Harry moved closer to Hedwig and fed her a piece of bacon he had squirreled away in his pocket. He was so happy that she had chosen that moment to come home. He needed a few minutes to fully calm down, and Hedwig was a friend who was there for him unconditionally. Finally, he reached for the note tied to Hedwig’s leg. He unrolled it carefully.

25 Dec 1991
Dear Harry,
Happy Christmas to you. Thank you for your forgiveness. I have come to realize that I should have treated you much better, and not let Vernon tell me what to do. For quite a long time, I wanted to be normal. Nothing felt normal to me after my sister found out she was a witch. I wanted to be a witch, too, and I was very jealous of her for far too long. I will tell you more about this when we meet, I promise.

I was aware in the spring that you might receive your Hogwarts letter soon. We’ll speak together about this as well. Your owl is beautiful, but she is anxious to get back to you! Vernon would have never tolerated an owl in the house, as I am sure you have realized already. I am sorry for everything. We are trying to change, Dudley and I. Dudley is reluctant to change. He wanted to be loyal to his father, but he got in more trouble. He was expelled from Smeltings in November and has started at Stonewall High. You were right, Harry.

Would you be available tomorrow, Boxing Day? You may choose the location. You are welcome here, but I understand if you would rather not. We are willing to come to you. Please send Hedwig again with your response, or ring at the house.

Sincerely,
Aunt Petunia

Harry’s jaw dropped as he read the letter. Had Aunt Petunia really changed that much? She seemed nice, and maybe like she even cared about him after all. I’m happy that I don’t have to live there anymore. I don’t have to go back there, either. She gave me the choice and I think they should come here.

He told Hedwig he would be back to send another note to Aunt Petunia, and she hooted softly in response. He put the note in his trouser pocket and thoughtfully went back to join the family. As they all looked at him, he grinned widely.

“I assume you heard from your aunt, Harry joon?” Tara asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he joined the rest. Tim patted the couch, inviting him back to his previous spot. He sat down gratefully and pulled the letter from his pocket. “Aunt Petunia said she and Dudley would meet with me, either here or there, tomorrow if possible. It’s up to me.”

“Do you wish to go to that house again, Harry?” Tina asked, her professional persona coming to the fore. Harry glanced at Hermione who seemed to be trying to communicate something to him. He grinned at her and shrugged. He had no idea what she was trying to say through her eyes.

“No, I don’t. Maybe someday, but not now. Tara joon, do we have plans for tomorrow? May I invite them here?”

“That will be fine, Harry. We have plans for the twenty-seventh in London, but tomorrow we will be here,” Tara replied with a smile directed at him. “You may invite them for noon, and we shall serve sabzi kuku with rice. Do you they will like that, Harry?”

“I’m not sure. They like very plain food, but maybe that has changed since it seems other things have changed. Petunia actually admitted that I was right about Dudley,” Harry said, and then startled everyone with a laugh. They had rarely heard him truly laugh out loud, and everyone loved the sound.

------

Note: I wrote this chapter very early on, after the first four chapters or so. Of course, I have tweaked it several times since. I don’t know if I should apologize for making everyone a little more forgiving or forgivable, or not. Again, this is the way I wished to write this story.
Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own most of the characters, etcetera.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Petunia and Dudley’s Visit

The next morning, Harry took a bath. Hermione knew he loved baths when she gave him a bottle of bubble bath soap, besides all the books she thought he ought to read. Baths were relaxing and he did not get the opportunity at school. He felt somewhat better now about the other boys seeing him without his leg. They were all used to it for the most part. The quidditch team was used to seeing him change in the locker room while wearing his leg. He knew he had worried over the summer, but finally Harry had decided that he could not do anything to change the situation so made up his mind that if others did not want to see him as he was, then that was their own problem. He was not willing to hide himself. He and the mind healer spoke together often about this.

Besides bathing, Harry really wanted to go out for a fly. Minerva had placed some charms on his Nimbus 2000 to make it safer for him, but his leg worked all right up on the broom since he did not have to lift his leg forward for the most part. He could even dive for the ground and stop before hitting it! Hermione seemed to hate flying, and Harry admittedly had trouble understanding this. He loved playing Seeker for the Gryffindor team because it used up so much of his anxious energy. Because of this, he was able to focus better on his studies, so Hermione did see this as a good thing for Harry, although she worried. He reckoned he would have to wait until he was back at Hogwarts to fly again.

Eventually he pulled himself out of the tub using the handgrips and sat on the toilet cover to dry himself off properly before pulling on his leg and clothing. Recognizing that he was getting anxious about Petunia and Dudley’s visit, he tried his deep breathing. I invited them, he reminded himself, and it will be fine. Really fine, not fake fine. He would not get panicked or angry, as he was apt to do. No accidental magic. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Harry, are you finished? I need to get in there, too.” Harry startled as Hermione’s voice came through the door.

“Yeah, just a minute,” he replied, pulling on his leg and dressing as quickly as he could.

“Took you long enough,” Hermione teased when Harry finally exited the bathroom. Flashing her a smirky grin as he proceeded to his room, he realized he still needed to brush his damp hair. Once in his bedroom, he sat on the bed to pull the hand mirror and the brush from the bedside drawer. And sighed. This was impossible.

After several minutes, he gave up. He had tried. He had really tried. Aunt Petunia was just going to have to put up with his hair as usual. Maybe someday he would learn a “hair spray” spell? He had not read of any specifically yet, but no need to be worried. His father’s hair had been like this. Minerva had given him some photos of his parents, and he loved her for this. Perhaps he should ask her about a hair spell? Wait a moment, then his dad wouldn’t have had so many problems with his hair, right?

After slipping the mirror and brush back into the drawer, Harry gathered up his crutches, and went help prepare the kuku*. It was similar to quiche, but there was no cheese or crust. He quite liked it, and what was the best about it was that many different ingredients could be added. Today they were making Sabzi Kuku, with various green herbs mixed in. Harry had not eaten this since before going to Hogwarts and looked forward to it with pleasure. When he reached the kitchen, he put on an apron to keep his clothes neat. Taraneh passed him a cutting board, a large onion, and a knife. He stood at the counter chopping the onion into small pieces, humming ‘Mysterious Ways’ without really noticing he was doing so.

Tim answered the door with Harry when Aunt Petunia and Dudley arrived. Harry was glad in part because the anxiety came up his throat as he approached behind Tim. When Tim opened the door, Harry studied their faces briefly. Aunt Petunia looked nervous but hopeful, which was very different from Harry’s experience. Dudley looked petrified. Serves him right, Harry thought.

“Hello, Harry,” Aunt Petunia said with a small and nervous smile. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re welcome, Aunt Petunia,” Harry replied, his Gryffindor courage returning to him. “This is Dr. Tim Granger, my adoptive father. I don’t know if you’ve met yet?”

“It is good to meet you, finally,” said Tim heartily. “Please come in.” Aunt Petunia stepped forward, but Dudley hung back. “Come on then, young man.”

Dudley appeared to be very reluctant to step foot in the house, but he finally did. It seemed he was trying not to look in Harry’s direction at all. He mostly seemed to stare at the hardwood floor. Did Dudley know he was the reason Harry was still on crutches? Maybe he just did not want to change like his mum wanted him to? Maybe he was trying to change but was having a hard time. Harry shook his head a bit. They would just have to try to talk.

Tim led the way to the dining table with Aunt Petunia, Harry following behind and then realized Dudley was not following him. He turned back to go find his cousin. Dudley was still near the front door, now staring at Harry instead of the floor.

“Are you alright, Dud?” Harry asked gently. “I did invite you here. And in case you’re worried, I am learning to control my magic at school.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Dudley whispered. What? Harry could almost not believe his ears.

“Sorry for what?” Harry asked. He wanted to hear it from Dudley himself.

“Sorry for all the mean things I’ve done to you,” Dudley said softly. “I should have treated you better, but Dad always told me how I should treat you, and I had to listen to him. I thought I had to listen to him.”

“Dudley, sometimes it seemed like you went out of your way to bully me. That’s not fair,” Harry finally said trying to keep his emerging anger from coming out to play.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Dudley said looking at the floor again.

“It’s time to eat,” Taraneh said from the kitchen door, smiling encouragingly at Harry.

“Come on, Dud,” Harry said, “It’s okay.” Harry waited until Dudley started walking before following him. It seemed to him that Dudley had lost some weight, but Harry was happy he no longer had to wear Dudley’s old clothes anymore. He shoved his anger back in its compartment.

Seated at the table next to Aunt Petunia, Harry demonstrated the best method for eating the sabzi kuku with the rice. To her surprise, Petunia discovered she rather enjoyed the flavourful meal, and it dawned on her that her own cooking had been boring for many years. She recognized that in their striving to be “normal,” they had become boring and predictable. Yes, that is what she had wanted much of the time growing up with her sister Lily, just to be a normal family, but now she saw how miserable that had made her, Dudley, and Harry. Now that Vernon was out of their lives for a while, she could relax on the idea of “being normal.” She was finally at a place in her mind where she could admit that it was too hard to be “normal” all the time. Vernon would never be able to accept this new normal, however. Just as soon as she found a job for herself, she planned to divorce him.

As they all settled into eating, Hermione attempted to converse with Dudley, whom she sat next to. Harry snorted in laugher, but then covered it with a cough. Honestly, Dudley liked to watch TV, play video games, and eat. Hermione liked to read, study, and take in cultural experiences. Did they have anything in common? It seemed Hermione was certainly trying. Their parents were talking with Aunt Petunia, and he realized he had missed the beginning of their conversation.

“Dudley and I are trying to figure out life again. I have started seeing a therapist, and I wish I had done so years ago. We were too busy being ‘normal’ that somehow, we lost sight of normal. I am working through how I treated Harry for so many years, too,” Aunt Petunia told Tara and Tim. She turned to Harry. “Harry, I am truly sorry for so many things. You are my nephew, my Lily’s son, and I should have cared for you as much as I cared for Dudley. Vernon perhaps had me brainwashed to some extent, but there was a time I craved ‘normal,’ and that is part of what drew me to Vernon. I am so sorry, Harry. I should have realized all of this before Vernon attacked you so badly. I regret causing you so much pain,” she finished with a glance at Harry’s leg. Harry took a deep breath and then spoke.

“Aunt Petunia, as I wrote to you, I do forgive you. I meant that. I am trying to forgive Dudley. In my letter, I mentioned Dudley’s push down the stairs. You remember. I apparently healed myself fast enough with magic that you never felt you had to take me to hospital then. However, even though my magic healed the fractures well enough, not all the nerve damage healed. It seems magic can’t heal certain things. That’s why I am still on crutches, even though I have a magical prosthetic leg now. It’s designed to connect to my nerves, but not all my nerves work anymore,” Harry explained and then took a break for another deep breath and drink of water.

“I did notice you limped sometimes after that,” Aunt Petunia said. “But. . . but I feared Vernon, Harry.”

Harry surprised himself by not getting immediately angry, and reached for Aunt Petunia’s hand, patting it. “I know,” he said. Aunt Petunia looked at him through tears with hope and shame in her eyes.

“You are away from Vernon now, Petunia,” Tara said from the other side of Harry. “I know it will be difficult, but you have a new chance to live life differently.”

“Yes,” Petunia said with a slight smile, and glanced over at Dudley, whom she had just told days before. “I am planning to divorce Vernon. First, I need to find a job. I am not particularly trained for much, but I took some office management courses before I married Vernon. Perhaps I can find a suitable job in an office. As Harry well knows, too, I must keep things neat and clean. I feel better when I clean. Harry, I missed cleaning when Vernon made you take over much of it. I didn’t realize it until I talked with my therapist. If I need to be a house cleaner to make a living, so be it.”

“As I said in my letter, I have a Mind Healer that I talk to,” Harry said. “It helps a lot. Does Dudley see someone?”

“He started in November,” Petunia said in a matter of fact manner. She reached over to pat Dudley on the shoulder. Harry noticed Dudley had hardly eaten anything. Quite surprising. It was to Petunia, too. “Dudley, dear, eat your kuku. It is so good I will have to ask for the recipe. It seems familiar, somehow.”

“Remind me before leave,” Taraneh said with a friendly smile. “I’d love to share it with you! I always appreciate it when people find they love Persian food.”

Tim looked thoughtful as he listened to the conversation. Finally, he joined in. “I’ll note the address for my dental office, Petunia. We happen to be looking for a new office assistant. The position is full-time and you sound like an ideal candidate. We will need you to interview with my practice partner, the office manager, and myself. The office manager will call you to set up an acceptable time for the interview. I cannot guarantee you will get the job, but we’ve not had good candidates apply. We do need someone excellent at keeping things in order, as the manager, as wonderful as she is with most aspects of the job, is not very good with organization of the paperwork and such.”

“Yes, yes, I would like to interview,” Aunt Petunia burst out, happily. Harry was surprised yet again. Usually Aunt Petunia, trying to keep to ‘normal’, just kept her voice even unless she was upset or angry. Her voice now was anything but normal. She started grinning, which Harry had never seen her do before. “Thank you so much, Dr. Granger,” she gushed. “I just can’t thank you enough.” Dudley was staring open-mouthed at his mother. Hermione smiled widely as she had known that her parents would find some way to assist Harry’s relatives.

“Please, Petunia, call me Tim. It’s my honor. Harry wants to do right by you, and we love him so much, so we are here for you, too,” Tim said softly. Harry wanted to cry now, but he smiled softly instead, at Tim.

“Thank you, Tim,” Petunia said, and brushed at tears that were leaking from the corners of her eyes.
After a moment, a look flashed across her features. “I remember now! Harry, your mother made Persian food sometimes. Lily learned from her mother-in-law, your Potter grandmother, although she died from some kind of pox when Lily was nineteen. Your great-grandmother had Persian ancestry, if I remember correctly.” Harry’s mouth dropped open, fortunately right after he had swallowed a bite. Hermione’s mind started working immediately.

“Harry, that means you are about an eighth Persian!” she shouted. No one was surprised when Hermione pulled a small notebook from the pocket of her jeans to make notes.

“Wow,” Harry said. “I guess I should learn more about my ancestors.”

“I don’t remember your grandmother’s name, unfortunately,” said Aunt Petunia.

“That is certainly good news, though! We should check into it more, right, Harry? Well, if we’re all finished, let’s have tea and pudding,” Taraneh said.

“Let me help clear the table,” Petunia said, rising from her chair.

“Psst, Harry,” Dudley whispered from two chairs away.

“Yeah?” he whispered back. Dudley slid over onto his mother’s unoccupied seat and leaned into Harry’s ear.

“I heard what you said about the time I shoved you down the stairs. I am very sorry. I didn’t think it would really hurt you because it seemed like you healed fast from everything, you know? And I’m sorry I called you freak so much. And beat you up and let no one be friends with you. I’m not hanging with the gang anymore, and anyway, they went away to boarding schools, too. Just so you know, Harry.”

“Thank you, Dudley. I am working on trying to forgive you, but it’s hard. I really needed friends in primary school. I have plenty of friends now, at Hogwarts, though.”

“I’ve been horrid, and some days I still feel so angry that I could just beat up anyone I see. I miss Dad, even though I do not miss what he made me do. He encouraged me to bully you, alright?”

“I am starting to understand that, Dud, but it’s still hard to think about it,” Harry said truthfully.

Soon they were all enjoying tea and bamieh** around the table, and the atmosphere was less strained than before. Harry, however, wondered about his Persian ancestry, and was often distracted by his own thoughts. He planned to write McGonagall later after their guests left. He was sure Hermione would want to help.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 - January 1992

Harry relaxed back against a couch in the Gryffindor common room, near the fireplace. He was glad to be back, but he missed his new parents. He had his copy of The History of Quidditch in hand, and Minerva’s letter in his pocket, but was not really reading. Hermione was nearby chatting Lavender Brown’s ear off, but Lavender could give as good as she got, much to Hermione’s chagrin. He closed his eyes. It had been exhausting traveling back to Hogwarts on the train for some reason. He had also found another gift on his bed when he had arrived. It was a shimmery invisibility cloak that had belonged to his biological father, James Potter. He was not sure who had given it to him, but he was happy to have it, and he was quite sure it was magical in some way. Ron had gone off a bit earlier with Neville to join a snowball fight outside, since there was plenty of fresh snow. Harry just could not find the energy to go out in the cold, and much preferred the warm fire. A thought flitted through his mind that maybe his residual limb made him feel the cold more now. The castle was rather cold in general in winter, he had found out. Would they learn warming spells in class?

Harry was just about to doze off when Ron and Neville stepped through the portrait.

“Harry? Madam Pomfrey gave me this note. It’s urgent,” Ron said, rushing over to the couch where Harry sat. Harry opened the parchment and read quickly. By now, Hermione’s interest had ended her conversation with Lavender, and was peering over at Harry.

“I am to go to Hospital wing right now,” he said. “They have something they want to try on me to see if it will be enough to help me walk better, but what if Madam Pomfrey makes me stay overnight? I just want to sleep in my own bed.” His anxiety was starting to get the better of him. It was zero to ten in no time. “And what if this doesn’t help?”

“We’ll go with you,” Hermione said promptly as if that would solve the issue. Ron and Neville nodded in agreement, and they left the common room to the Hospital wing.

Harry was greeted by Madam Pomfrey, Healer Terrill, Dr. Stone, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Snape. He was stunned to see his entire ‘team’ there all at once.

“We have come up with a solution, Harry,” Healer Terrill said excitedly, giving him a wide smile. She glanced at Professor Snape.

“I have a potion and some cream that I believe will help your situation, particularly concerning your hip’s nerve issues, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, directed at Harry after Ron gave Snape a glowering look. Ron did not care for Professor Snape.

“And Dr. Stone has been consulting with Professor Flitwick on charms that may work in your prosthetic to help bypass the nerves to some extent,” Healer Terrill said. “We believe that the combination of these things will help you immensely. We do apologize for taking so many months to come up with this solution.”

“Okay. Thank you! What do I need to do?” Harry asked. He looked around for his favourite bed. It was available. He had visited a few times since the beginning of September.

“Mr. Potter, please sit on your bed and remove your prosthetic, if you will,” Madam Pomfrey instructed, taking charge in her hospital wing. He did so, glancing at his sister and friends who were observing from nearby since no one had told them to leave, and he was pleased by this. He passed his leg to Dr. Stone, who hurried off with it behind a curtain with Professor Flitwick and Healer Terrill. They were eager to see if their ideas worked.

Professor Snape stood in front of Harry, holding a vial and another small container. “How is the pain now in your hip and stump?”

Harry considered the question. “Not too bad right now, sir. It hurt worse on the train earlier,” he replied.

“Drink this then, Potter,” Snape said, and Harry complied, reaching for the vial and then tipping it back into his mouth. It tasted terrible, but Harry did not gag, even though he wanted to. He truly hoped this would help him walk better.

“This cream will help, too, for nerve pain,” Snape said. “Perhaps Madam Pomfrey will help you apply it.” He handed it to Madam Promfrey. She nodded in agreement. Snape stalked away. Harry’s friends watched this exchange silently. Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtains with a wave of her wand, to apply the cream to his hip and residual limb in privacy. He was starting to feel tingly. Perhaps it was working!

Hermione saw Harry’s expression as Madam Pomfrey opened the curtain again, a look of wonder. He was left alone momentarily, so Hermione headed over. She still had her own slight limp, even with the charmed brace, and wondering if Professor Snape could help her with her leg, too.

“What’s happening, Harry?” Hermione asked in a low voice so not to draw attention from the adults yet, Ron and Neville hovering behind her.

“I feel tingly in my hip and limb, but not painful. It’s. . . nice,” he said, finally. He patted his residual limb through the blanket. “Snape didn’t say how long it would take.”

“I will go ask him,” Hermione said with a grin. “These two are too scared of Professor Snape.”

“Hermione, how can you just go talk to him?” Ron asked with a horrified look on his face.

“I like talking with teachers. I’ve always done it. It’s all a matter of knowing what to say,” Hermione said, sounding very confident. Ron groaned and Neville squirmed because this was Snape they were talking about!

She set off for Madam Pomphrey’s office as she had seen Snape go in.

The boys looked at each other and tried not to laugh. Ron sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed. “Do you think it’s working?” Ron asked Harry. “He didn’t poison you, did he?”

Neville sat on the side of the bed, too. “He couldn’t have!” Harry laughed this time.

“I’m fine!” he said. “I think it’s working. The usual pain is going away at least.” Harry’s mind was almost blown. He had not realized how much pain he seemed to constantly be in, because he was used to it. This was now the best he had ever felt.

“The potion will affect you for at least another thirty minutes,” Hermione reported as she joined the group again. Professor Snape, Madam Pomfrey, and Minerva soon followed behind her.

“Will I have to sleep here tonight?” Harry asked. Madam Pomfrey glanced at Snape and Minerva, and then said,

“As far as I am concerned, you may go back to Gryffindor tower tonight. We should be done with you before curfew. I’m sure that makes you happy, Mr. Potter.”

“Are you feeling the effects? Less pain?” Professor Snape asked, rather kindly, which shocked Ron.

“Oh, yes, thank you, sir!” Harry said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this good before! Em, during flying, maybe, or floating after my amputation. Yeah! The floating was nice. I’m rather floaty now.”

“It has some euphoric effects, it seems,” Snape muttered under his breath. Hermione heard this and chuckled, as she had heard all about Harry’s ‘floating’ after his surgery. She hadn’t experienced floating after her surgery, at all, and Harry had made it sound like something wonderful she had missed out on. She had just felt incredibly nauseated afterwards, and, in traction, trapped in bed.

“Euphoric?” Harry asked eagerly, his eyes dancing. “My grandmother’s name was Euphemia!” Minerva put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Shh, Harry. Try to be a bit calmer, dear,” she said.

They found Harry quite relaxed and entertaining, nonetheless. He was not his generally anxious self (or the person everyone usually saw with the anxiety simmering just under the surface), and the boys thought this Harry was hilarious. Hermione stayed calm, because she knew her brother needed support, even if he was euphoric.

At about the time that Dr. Stone and Professor Flitwick finished with their work, the euphoric effects were wearing off Harry. Everyone gathered around Harry’s bed again.

“My leg’s done?” Harry asked, looking up at Healer Terrill, who had been observing the work on the prosthetic. Dr. Stone nodded with a smile.

“Go ahead. Put it on, Harry,” Healer Terrill said.

He looked at everyone, then scooted to the side of the bed, stood up in the pyjamas he was still wearing, his trouser leg rolled up, and slid his non-painful residual limb in the socket. It attached, and Harry looked to Healer Terrill for direction.

“Do you think you’d like to try taking some steps without crutches, Harry?” she asked. “I can hold onto you. We need to see how the leg reacts now.”

“Alright,” he agreed, and reached out his hands to Healer Terrill. She took them gently and he moved his prosthetic leg forward. Looking down, he gaped at how far he was able to lift the foot up and over the floor. He was going to have to learn to walk yet again, it seemed. After he set his foot down, he leaned all his weight on it, and took a step with his intact leg, followed by several more steps, each one getting better, smoother and not quite so high as the first time, with no tripping, stumbling, or collapsing. He was worn out, though, by the time he and Healer Terrill had reached Madam Pomfrey’s office door. Healer Terrill helped him sit on a nearby chair.

“I did it,” Harry puffed out with a little wheeze.

“Is your asthma acting up?” Healer Terrill asked quietly before everyone else surged around Harry in excitement.

“Yeah. My inhaler is over in my robe pocket,” he said, starting to wheeze more. She accio’d his inhaler, and he sucked down in medication, twice. So relieved to breathe better now, and he was really able to walk!

“You will still need to use the crutches, until you can figure out how high to lift the leg without thinking about it. Because of the charms, it should sense much better what you want it to do, but it will still take some time to adjust. I will get you in to physio again as soon as possible. I’ll work it out with Poppy and Minerva. It will most likely be the same schedule as in the fall,” Healer Terrill said, as the named two and the rest made their way over to Harry. Hermione hugged Harry.

“You did well! We need to let Mum and Dad know. They’ll be so happy!” she exclaimed. “May we floo with them?” She turned to Minerva with this question.

“Not tonight, dears,” Minerva replied. “We’ll plan a time soon. We need to inquire as to when they are available.”

“I am so tired, Mione,” Harry whispered a bit later after he had accepted everyone’s well-wishes and thanked them all profusely.

“I will accompany you all back to Gryffindor tower,” Minerva said happily. “It is curfew just now.”

“Potter, tomorrow stay after class tomorrow,” Snape said. “I want to ask you more questions about the potion’s effects.”

“Alright, sir,” Harry mumbled as he was handed his crutches. He would need them around anyway when he removed his leg. He really did still need them for support now, he found after his first step. Besides being tired, he had not realized how much Healer Terrill had supported him in his walk across the room. The good thing about being tired right now, was that he did not lift his foot up too high.

After saying goodnight to Hermione, Harry went up with Ron and Neville to their dorm room. He needed to sleep but he did not really want to take his new and improved prosthetic off yet. Reminding himself that it would be there in the morning, he slipped it off, and settled into bed after removing the hospital pyjamas and pulling on his own. This was much better than staying overnight in the Hospital Wing. Much, much better.

The next morning, Harry showered and then dressed in his favourite jeans under his robes. He was still pain-free. He had been told some pain may return eventually but at least for a few weeks he should have no pain, except perhaps in his muscles because he would be moving around differently than he had for months as he got used to not using crutches for a good part of every day. He packed his book bag and slung the cross strap over his head to his shoulder as always.

“Ron?” he asked, noticing through the crack in Ron’s curtains that he was beginning to rouse.

“Huh?” Ron asked, cracking open an eye.

“Perky this morning?” Harry joked and Ron groaned. “I’m going down to breakfast.”

“Alright,” Ron muttered flinging his blankets back, and cringing as the cold air hit him. Harry laughed.

“Some of us are just waking up,” Seamus said grumpily from the other side of the room.

“See you later,” Harry said, leaving the room, concentrating on the steps he was taking. He was still pleased with the escalator charms, and Minerva had said they could keep them intact, to his delight. As well, Minerva had worked it out with Dumbledore ‘turn off’ some of the moving staircases, but it had been a challenge. The castle was used to its routine.

Once down in the Great Hall, which was quite empty, and breakfast service just beginning, he sat at the Gryffindor table, and helped himself to eggs, toast, and orange juice instead of pumpkin juice. After eating a bit, he pulled out the letter to read again.

01 January 1992
Dear Harry,
I was happy to receive your letter and your Christmas greetings! I did indeed have a nice Christmas.
I know a small amount about your family history which I can share with you. Your grandmother, Euphemia Potter (she often went by Effie), was 48 years old when your father was born. They had tried to have children for many years, but finally in 1959, James was conceived. It was a surprise because by then, they had completely given up. Euphemia’s mother’s first name was Elaheh. She was indeed Persian, and she came from a magical Persian family, as the story goes. I don’t know much more than that, except that James said that she often performed magic through her cooking. I don’t know too many who engage in that kind of magic anymore. It’s a sort of old magic. Your dad also said that Euphemia learned how to cook from her, and he suspected there was magic in her food, as well. They did not have any house elves (I don’t know if we’ve spoken about house elves, yet, but yes, Hogwarts has house elves), so they did their own cooking and other household chores.

Your Grandfather, Fleamont Potter, was in his 50s when your dad was born. Over thirty years before, he was a potioneer (you may have inherited your potions abilities from him), and he created Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion in the 1920s, which sold very well by all reports. He sold his company only a few years later for a tidy sum, and this is from which much of the Potter wealth comes. Have you seen Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion? It is still being produced and sold. It may help you tame your hair, but only if you wish to try. James, I know, tried, but often failed, to get it to work with his hair. Enclosed with this letter is a small jar of Sleekeasy’s. Try it if you like, Harry.

They both died in 1979 from Dragon Pox. I am sure you or Hermione have a book that will describe Dragon Pox. It is not pleasant. We have a vaccine for it now. You received it from Madam Pomfrey in September.

I am sorry that I don’t know more about Elaheh, but I will try to find out what I can.

Happy New Year,
Minerva McGonagall

Harry slipped the small bottle of Sleekeasy potion out of a robe pocket. He had not tried it. It was only supposed to take a couple of drops to work wonders on his hair. He stared at it, uncertain, just as he had been for the last several days.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, sitting down next to him. Hermione sat across from them and gave Harry a look that said, Tell him.

“I found out my grandfather invented Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion,” Harry said. “Did you know about this potion?”

“I’ve heard about it, but it’s not good for people with red hair, really, my dad says. Your grandfather?” Ron said.

“Yeah, Fleamont Potter,” Harry said, still as confused by this interesting news that he had not expected as he was on the first day of the year.

“Huh,” Ron said.

“That’s all you can say, Ron?” Hermione said with a snort.

“Are you going to see if it works on your hair, Harry?” Ron grinned, trying to choke back a laugh.

“My dad couldn’t get it to work for himself, and his own dad invented it!” he nearly shouted in sudden exasperation in the middle of the Great Hall, as the tables were filling up with students. Students nearby glanced around at him. Harry groaned because now they were going to be talking about him once again. Hermione and Ron looked at each other and burst out laughing. They both soon got themselves under control as Ron decided he was very hungry and started piling bacon on his plate, and Hermione asked for forgiveness with pleading eyes. Harry gave in and laughed a bit himself. It was a little funny.

He put away the bottle and the letter and settled down to finish eating his food. After a few bites of toast, Hermione asked him how his leg felt.

“It feels great! Once I learn how to walk normally, it’s going to be even better,” Harry said with another smile stretching across his face.

“Do mum and dad know about this yet, Harry?”

“I don’t know, unless Professor McGonagall told them already,” he replied. Neville joined them at the table. He knew about Sleakeazy’s, it seemed, after Harry inquired.

“Grandmother told me about it once,” Neville said in a normal voice, and then in a whisper, “Don’t tell anyone else, but she uses it on her hair! I just found out last summer.” This time, Harry started to laugh, and then began coughing as he had forgotten had taken a sip of his juice. Ron slapped him on the back in an attempt to help. Neville started laughing, too. Soon they were all holding their stomachs they were laughing so hard.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: Alright, Let’s Just Find the Horcruxes Already . . .

By February, Harry’s walking had improved greatly. Falls were few and far between. Taraneh still visited Minerva occasionally, and her magical education was moving on quickly, particularly with her wand use. Tim came through the floo with her once, so they could see Harry’s walking progress, with which they were all very pleased.

Meanwhile, there were several things that Harry and Hermione did not tell their parents. They had investigated several strange events happening within the castle. They had used Harry’s Invisibility Cloak to sneak out at night into the corridors. They had to be careful to avoid Mrs. Norris because neither of them could run. They discussed at length what Dumbledore had vaguely told Harry versus what they had read in the books. (Dumbledore had frankly left Harry confused a few months before, and it felt as if a lot of information had been left out.) Finally, the two concluded that they must speak with Minerva. Hermione made an appointment with her.

Minerva was quite interested in what her two students might like to discuss. They were both doing excellent work in their classes, with Hermione at the top of the first year class, and Harry in at third in the class (Draco was second.) She decided that Harry must want to know what Dumbledore had alluded to back in October. She decided to give them the additional information Albus had given her if they asked for it. It was not right, in her humble opinion, that Harry must be made to battle You-Know-Who someday, no matter what Dumbledore thought or what some prophecy said. Harry must decide for himself, and Hermione and their friends must decide for themselves if they wished to help or not. She would tell them all she knew. She did not think they were too young to know the truth. After all, Albus was attempting to lure Voldemort out of hiding. After this meeting, she must talk with Albus again. He was aware that she would most likely speak to Harry, and he knew of the reasons why, so he would not stop her. However, he still seemed most interested in prolonging the inevitable.

When they arrived after breakfast, Minerva had tea set up. She liked nothing better than tea for a conversation of any sort. Both Harry and Hermione took a cup and a biscuit after they had seated themselves.

“It is lovely to get an opportunity to speak with you. To what do I owe this visit?” she asked, taking a sip of tea. “You are both doing well in your classes.”

“We’ve been wondering about the troll, and the three-headed dog. Why are they here? I know Hagrid likes Fluffy, but the troll? We’ve been wondering if they are here for the Philosopher’s stone?” Harry asked in a rush to get the questions out.

“I’ll elaborate,” Hermione said. “We’ve read all sorts of information about the wizarding world now, and we learned about Nicholas Flamel’s stone which can bring about immortality for the user. This seems like something Voldemort would be interested in. Why is it here in a school full of kids?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Um, yeah, is Dumbledore trying to bring back Voldemort? As far as we can see, he is the one who is certain Voldemort is going to come back.”

“Ah, yes,” Minerva said, squaring her shoulders and composing herself before taking a sip of tea. “Now, I need both of you to keep what I am about to tell you to yourselves. We will discuss after what might be appropriate to tell Ron and Neville. I am surprised you didn’t come to me sooner.”

“I was busy with school, studying, and Quidditch, and anxious about being able to really walk, and now I can,” Harry admitted. “I think I also tried to forget what Dumbledore said.” Hermione hugged his shoulders, even though he had only told her about this recently. “And my scar hurts every time I am in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It gives me headaches, more than the fumes in Potions.”

“Let me tell you everything I know, and then we’ll see how what you are experiencing may fit in. During the war, Harry, your parents were on our side, fighting against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Your family had to go into hiding after the prophecy was made. It was about a child born at the end of July, and this child would be the one to vanquish Voldemort. Harry, it was between you and Neville, as Neville was born the day before. Voldemort seemed to decide that it must be you, so he decided to do away with you so he could remain alive and make further inroads on taking over the Ministry of Magic,” Minerva said.

“Right, but I lived, and now I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. I do not like being famous. It’s too much sometimes, and I just don’t remember it,” Harry said in a low voice. “I’ve talked with the Mind Healer about this.”

“I am aware, Harry,” Minerva said. “I am pleased you are talking this over with the Healer, but please do not speak directly with the Mind Healer about what I am telling you now, however.”

“Yes,” he agreed, fiddling with his teacup. He could see why he should not talk about it, obviously.

“You survived the Killing Curse due to your mother’s love. There can be no other way that you survived. The curse rebounded off you and left that scar. I know you have heard this already, but no one that we know of has ever survived a direct hit from the curse. It does make you special. That is one of the reasons Albus - Professor Dumbledore - thought it would be an excellent idea to have you grow up with the Dursleys, so you would be out the limelight of the Wizarding world.” She paused to take a deep breath before continuing.

“I should have put my foot down back then, Harry. I saw that the Dursleys are the worst kind of Muggles, but I put too much of my faith in Albus. I truly regret it now. I did not do my best by you, Harry.” The two children just looked at her steadily, waiting to hear more as she sipped her tea.

“Albus believes that Voldemort is attempting to come back. It seems he did something with his soul, so that when his body died, he would be able to come back to life eventually. I don’t know all the ways of this, as it takes very dark magic, and I have little knowledge of it. I suspect Albus does, but he also believes that you are still the only one to vanquish Voldemort, Harry. He brought the Philosopher’s Stone here to Hogwarts to lure Voldemort out of hiding. He thought the Stone would be the ideal incentive. I do believe that Albus also wishes to test you, Harry, and your friends,” she said, glancing at Hermione. “He wants to know your fortitude, and if you’ll be able to fight Voldemort in the future. He believes every word of the prophecy.”

“That’s not fair, Professor,” Hermione objected. “We’re too young, and neither of us knew anything about any of this before you came to our house.”

“I agree, Hermione. You are all too young, and that is where I am in strong disagreement with Albus. It isn’t right. I think we adults, professors, mentors need to take care of this before it gets that far. Firstly, we need to see if Voldemort is anywhere in this castle. Secondly, we need to get that Stone away from here. Albus will not like it, but it might be all right if we do find evidence of Voldemort’s existence. And Harry, you will need to choose. Albus says you have no choice, I know, but truly Harry, you DO have a choice if you want to help. I am not willing to put it all on your shoulders as Albus wishes,” Minerva looked Harry in the eyes. He took a deep shuddering breath and then suddenly sat straight up on the chair.

“How do we get Dumbledore to tell us everything?” Harry asked, energized as decided that he wanted to get this behind him, and then he could have a completely happy life.

“Good question, Harry,” Minerva said. “We’ll try to come up with something. Voldemort must have split his soul into pieces somehow, according to Albus, but the number and where they are hidden are mysteries to me. It seems Professor Dumbledore has found three in the last ten years, hidden away in a carefully warded location, which may have prompted Voldemort to make his way back here with his original spirit. Or perhaps he came because it was the year Harry was to begin.” Harry lifted his eyebrows at that. Minerva looked solemnly back with a nob.

“Hmm, I need to start researching, after we talk to Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said. It made her feel better to think of doing what she could control. “We need to figure out what potion or spell Voldemort may have used, and then look for likely hiding places or objects.” She scribbled down notes on a piece of parchment. “Professor, do you think if we find them all and destroy them, then he won’t be able to come back?”

“I’d like to think so,” Minerva said with a grim smile, “but I don’t want your schoolwork to suffer.”

“It sounds like we’re going to do this,” Harry said, “so yes, I am willing. Anything to prevent him from coming back.”

“Me, too,” Hermione said. She was still writing notes as quickly as she possibly could. “We need to find Voldemort in the castle first.”

“That’s where I think Harry’s comment earlier is quite interesting,” Minerva said, her eyes widening as she thought about it more. “His scar hurts in Defense against the Dark Arts. Perhaps there is something there.”

“Somehow I think it’s Quirrell,” Harry said. “I thought it was Snape at first, and so did Hermione, but I have been around Professor Snape, and it’s definitely not him.”

“I thought it was Professor Snape, too, but we were wrong,” Hermione agreed. “Quirrell’s behavior is odd, and he doesn’t actually teach us much of anything. Sometimes he is not himself, it seems, although I don’t know what he was like before.”

“I’ve read a lot Muggle fiction,” Harry said, a thoughtful look on his face. “I get pain in my scar, which I have never had until we arrived at Hogwarts. In some stories, the characters get possessed by spirits or ghosts. Things like that. Maybe Voldemort is in Quirrell somehow. I know ghosts are real now, so why couldn’t possession be real?”

“My brother is right, Professor McGonagall.” Hermione and Harry exchanged grins. Minerva hid one. It was obvious the two children were still very pleased that they were now siblings, even amidst this serious topic.

“We absolutely cannot tell our parents,” Hermione said. “They would fight to pull us out of Hogwarts if they felt our lives were in danger. Even if Mum does know some magic now.”

“I understand, Ms. Granger,” Minerva said. She would put a plan together, in conjunction with Hermione, their young researcher. She would have to bring other staff in, most likely, and they would have to convince Albus that they could help Harry. It was not to be left on his young shoulders. “I will think about all of this. Ms. Granger, research to your heart’s content. Let me know if you need access to more resources. Mr. Potter, please do not let on to Professor Quirrell what we suspect for now. Please.”

“Of course, not,” Harry said, as he had grown up knowing how to keep things to himself.

--break--

Harry’s headache was worse than ever before in DADA a few days later. Professor Quirrell stuttered more than usual, but that was not what bothered him. It was the pain in his head. He had a difficult time keeping the pain off his face, because of course, that was where the pain was. Hermione glanced at him anxiously several times during class and wondered what they should do about this. Should Harry not attend this class until they had worked something out?

Hermione was about to suggest Harry see Madam Pomfrey for a pain potion when Professor Dumbledore appeared in the door frame, accompanied by Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harry was now doubled over in pain. Hermione put an arm around him, as Ron did from the other side, and they tried to comfort him as a flash of light flew over their heads. Hermione looked up to see Professor Quirrell stunned in place. Harry was screaming, and she held onto him with all her might.

“Students, please leave everything and exit the room,” Professor McGonagall announced. Most of the students did so, although there was some grumbling about wanting to see what was happening. Hermione and Ron tried to get Harry to stand, but they could not. It was obvious that he was in too much pain. All at once, he stopped screaming, and fell into Hermione’s arms. She brushed his fringe a bit, and saw his scar appeared inflamed.

“We’re safe for now, I think,” Ron said, glancing at her. “Snape put a shield on us.”

“Look!” Hermione exclaimed quietly. The professors had bound Quirrell up magically so that he would not be able to harm any of them, and then removed the man’s turban from his head. There, on the back of Quirrell’s head, was another face! Hermione felt she should be revolted, but it was honestly quite fascinating. Ron turned his head to be sick to the side away from Harry, who was still sitting between them, though he was draped over Hermione’s lap. The face – it was speaking, but Hermione did not hear what it said, and what Dumbledore said in response. There was a roaring in her ears as she realized this was Voldemort. Somehow Voldemort had possessed Quirrell, and Harry had gotten the scar from Voldemort. The scar told Harry that Voldemort was close, and he was angry.

BREAK

Harry woke up in the Hospital Wing. He had already been here several times, and it was like a third home for him, though he was loath to admit it. What time was it? He reached for his glasses.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said, with a grim smile. There seemed to be so much grim smiling as of late.

“How long was I out?” Harry asked. He glanced down at his residual limb through the blanket. “Oh, it wasn’t long enough for my leg to grow back, I see,” and then he let out a peal of laughter.

“Mr. Potter, you’re awake?” Professor McGonagall asked curiously, rising from a nearby chair.

“It just struck me as funny, professor. Last year, I woke up and my leg was gone, that’s all. It’s still gone!” Harry said.

“I am not going to pretend I understand, dear,” Minerva said with a relieved smile. “You have been asleep for two days straight, Mr. Potter.” Madam Pomfrey began running diagnostics over him with her wand.

“Really? Why?” Harry asked. He must have really needed it if he had truly slept that long. He didn’t even sleep that long after his surgery. He then remembered that class, and the incredible explosive pain in his head. His breathing picked up as he said, “Professor, Quirrell is really Voldemort! Please do something!”

“Harry, we have Quirrell locked up, and we managed to capture Voldemort as he was leaving Quirrell’s body.”

“How? What did you do to his, erm, spirit?”

“Professor Dumbledore managed to capture the spirit and entrap it into an object. Apparently, this is similar to the method Voldemort used to make the horcruxes, but not as Dark. We need to now destroy this object as well as the other objects. Ms. Granger is researching possible methods of destruction right now. She stayed with you until just an hour ago, although she and I had a discussion with Professor Dumbledore. She had all the information possible, I believe. We know how to destroy them. Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley are assisting her. It is Saturday, after all,” Minerva said. She was proud of her students, but very sorry that they had to deal with this.

“That’s good,” Harry said. “When can I leave?”

“This evening for dinner, but first you need to take these potions and rest a little longer,” Madam Pomfrey said as she handed him to vials of liquid. Harry wrinkled his nose because none of these potions tasted good. He knew right away one was for pain and thought the other might be a nutrition potion.

“Where’s my bag?” he questioned. If he was going to rest, he wanted a book. Madam Pomfrey brought his bag, and he riffled through it, debating what he was interested in. Read the paperback fictional book, the medicine book he had thrown in that morning two days ago, or a schoolbook? After finally deciding on the paperback, he laid back in his pillows. A sudden question popped to mind.

“Professor McGonagall,” Harry said rather formally, and touched his forehead. “My scar hurt so badly. Is it possible, when I was a baby, that Voldemort left a piece of himself in me?”

“I don’t think so, Harry,” Minerva said wearily sitting in her seat again. “You have had several diagnostic scans since July. We would have found it already, correct, Poppy?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said. “All the pain in your scar has resolved, and nothing is hidden.”

“Alright, then,” Harry said, feeling quite relieved. “Thank you.” Madam Pomfrey reminded him he was to rest and walked briskly to her office. Minerva stayed by Harry’s side, much to his relief. He didn’t want to be alone right now. He watched as she pulled parchment and a quill from one of her robe pockets, and then he turned to his book, trying to distract himself.

About an hour before dinner, Madam Pomfrey gave Harry another pain potion, and then asked if he would like to shower in the bathroom near her office. He wanted to, so he fished out his shrunken crutches out of his school bag and enlarged them. Minerva put away her things, took out her wand, and levitated Harry’s bag, clothing, and prosthetic leg to the bathroom. Harry wanted to laugh at the sheer weirdness of this but held it back to a smile.

He did laugh when he came out after his shower, now dressed. Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Draco were waiting for him, and Ron was making a silly face. They went down for supper together, and Draco sat with them at the Gryffindor table for once. Draco had met up with the others in the library, where he told them his father had a lot of Dark magic books, once he heard what they were up to and sworn to secrecy. For now, however, they had express permission to peruse the Restricted Section, even though Madam Pince was unhappy about it. Dumbledore had given them some ideas to pursue. He had found three of the horcruxes already, as McGonagall had said. Unfortunately, he had not destroyed them as yet, because he was not entirely sure how to do it legally. He had admitted he did not know what the remainder of the horcruxes were, and that there were perhaps only three more. He had found some that were in Hogwarts itself.

“With Voldemort’s spirit from the night you ‘killed’ him, Harry,” Hermione said, “captured now, Dumbledore thinks three more would make sense, because he himself was the seventh.”

“I wish I could be in Gryffindor,” Draco said softly to Harry before they left the table, after fielding some looks from students over at the Slytherin table. “I am not my father. I’ve tried hard to be like him, to make him happy, but I can’t do it much longer. I will for a while longer, so that perhaps I can get into his library. He will be happy if I show some interest in the Dark Arts. I don’t get along with many of the Slytherins.” He sighed long and deeply. Hermione looked over from the other side of the table, where she had just been making some study plans with Neville and Ron (and they left the table to head upstairs.) She had not heard exactly what Draco had said, but she had heard the sigh. Harry tried to think of the right thing to say in response. Finally, he said hesitantly,

“Maybe we can ask the Headmaster if you could be re-Sorted. If not him, Professor McGonagall is my magical guardian and she’s Deputy. We could ask her.” Hermione heard this and chimed in with the suggestion that she could bring it up, as she was working with McGonagall to change things gradually at Hogwarts.

“Ask, Hermione, but I would like to wait until next September to be officially re-sorted if it is possible. I need check my father’s books this summer if not over Easter break. I don’t know what he’ll do to me if I am re-Sorted now. I am supposed to be mean and awful to everyone to prove my place as my father’s son, but I can’t anymore. It’s not really me. My mother tells me one thing and my father tells me another,” Draco said in the low voice, thankful that Ron was not there to overhear his words. He continued,

“I got on the train, planning to do as my father wanted, but then I ran into you, Harry, and you were so - - friendly. I’ve never had real friends before. I played with some of the Slytherins when we were young, but they never felt like real friends. You do.” He looked at Hermione and then to Harry. “My father is part of the pure-bloods who believe pure-bloods should be all-powerful, and the muggle-borns are nothing. I don’t believe in that because you are both half-bloods and are both very powerful. Harry, you do descend from a pureblood family, but your great-grandfather Potter was ousted from the Sacred list of purebloods early in the 20th century. I don’t know why, really. Hermione, your mother found out she was a witch last summer, right? Then she must come from a magical family further back, if your grandparents didn’t have magic. My father will say I can’t be friends with you, but I don’t care. I like you both, and I like Neville. I never met him growing up, because his grandmother kept him home with her. Ron and I will work out getting along better.”

“I didn’t know you were so talkative,” Harry commented and flashed a grin.

“I’m not normally but finding out that Voldemort is trying to come back to life is frightening. My father will expect me to be involved, because he has said so. I don’t want to be on that side. I want to help you,” Draco said urgently.

“We would like that,” Hermione said, and just left it that, as they all got up to return to their dorms. Draco spoke up once more.

“I may have to pretend for a while longer, after tonight, that I don’t get along with you. Some of my housemates will be suspicious.”

“We understand,” Harry said, although he had a feeling that they had a lot more to learn about the
Wizarding world. Maybe Draco would help them with more than the Horcruxes.

Chapter Text

In March, the small group of friends were well into their research on the missing horcruxes. Dumbledore, who had met with them all at Minerva’s request, decided to get on board with the plan, mostly with Minerva’s resolute insistence, even though he had some remaining objections. Draco suggested that there may be a horcrux at Malfoy Manor, as there were several Dark objects there. Dumbledore seemed not surprised by this suggestion. Draco hid his tracks well, so that his fellow Slytherins were not aware that Draco was friendly with Gryffindors. Draco’s present plan was to search for possible items over Easter holidays, but he had to be quite sure his father would not find out what his true interest was. Draco was surprised when Dumbledore taught him some rather advanced spells toward this purpose after Harry asked Dumbledore advice on this topic.

Meanwhile, Hermione made sure they stayed on track with their studies. It would look suspicious if the class standings suddenly changed. As well, nearly a month before Easter break, Hermione wished to celebrate Norooz, Persian New Year, which always begins with spring equinox. Tara sent some supplies so that Hermione and Harry could set up their own haft-sin table in the Gryffindor common room. Minerva had given them permission, and when they were done, she placed a charm over the small table so that none of the other students could disrupt it.

They all found the table fascinating. Haft-sin means seven things that start with S in Persian to celebrate the new year and spring. There was a small mirror placed on the table, hyacinth flowers, a goldfish, small dried fruit named Senjed (Persian olives or oleaster; stands for love), Samanu (wheat pudding; strength), Sabzeh (sprouts; growth or rebirth), Sumac (powdered dry sumac fruit; sunrise), Seer (garlic; health), Seeb (apples; beauty) and Serkeh (vinegar; patience.) They placed dyed hardboiled eggs around their display, although they stood for fertility, and Harry was not entirely sure they needed that in the coming year. Hermione flushed, and moved on in her explanations. Harry was very appreciative of Hermione for teaching him about these things, particularly as he now knew he had some Persian ancestry, too.

On the second day of Norooz, Harry and Hemione received a small package during the morning owl delivery. It was from their mum, and they eagerly opened it. She had promised to inform them if they were going on a holiday to the United States for a conference, or not. Harry had just finished eating, so he fed pieces of his breakfast to Hedwig to reward her for a job well done. Hermione ripped the package open non-magically. After a few moments -

“Harry, we’re going to Chicago! I have wanted to visit. I read about it in a book,” Hermione said, eagerly perusing the cover of a small tour book about Chicago. “It’s the third largest city in the States. They are hosting the international conference that Mum will attend. We will stay in a hotel in downtown Chicago, Mum says. We can go sight-seeing with Dad whilst she is at the conference and we will need to fly there in a plane, because magic travel internationally is very difficult anyway. I prefer flying in a plane more than on a broom, and I do think you’ll like it, Harry.”

“We’re going to fly on a plane? Alright!” Harry replied, very enthusiastic at the idea of seeing what a plane was like. He had only vague notions from some of the books he had read, and a few films he had seen.

“A muggle plane?” Ron asked, his eyes widening at the thought. He had seen them in the sky, but had never thought of travelling on one. “Are those safe to fly in?”

“Of course!” Hermione said. “It’s quite safe. Thousands of flights take off every day around the world, but very few actually crash. It’s safer than riding in a car, you know.”

“My dad has a muggle car,” Ron said. “He’s trying to make it fly, but don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“We won’t,” Harry replied. Hermione gave him a look, and said to Ron,

“Maybe if would be safer if you told someone,” Hermione said, ever the rule follower, except for when it seemed better to try to change the rules instead.

“Nah, my dad works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office in the Ministry,” Ron replied. “When you meet him, he will ask you all sorts of questions about muggle devices.”

“Maybe we can invite Ron and Neville to stay at our house in summer for a week?” Harry asked Hermione with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I’ll write a letter to mum,” Hermione said, nodded her head in agreement.

“Stay in a muggle house?” Ron asked, his eyes impossibly wide. “Really?”

“It’s really only half-muggle now,” Harry pointed out. “Remember, Tarajoon is actually becoming more magical. She might have already passed us up in what she has learned now.” Ron thought of the one time he had met her. She had been very nice to him.

“Yeah, I’d like to go to your house,” Ron said with a grin. “Mum will agree.”

“I don’t think Grandmother will allow me,” Neville said glumly.

“What if our mum speaks with her about it?” Hermione asked, looking instantly determined to make this happen.

“I don’t think so,” Neville replied with a negative shake of his head.

“We’ll send you an invitation anyway, Neville,” Harry assured him, and as he finished the sentence, a Hogwarts owl dropped a piece of parchment on his now-empty plate. He quickly unrolled it to read. It was from Draco.

It said: Harry, Snape wants to speak to you and me, alone, this evening in the Potions classroom. Tell everyone you have a detention, so they will not question why. He knows more information about the items we are searching for. Draco

Hermione, Ron, and Neville were staring at him. He needed to find out if this information was good before he told the others. He glanced at them, and asked, simply, “What?”

“Who is the note from?” Hermione blurted out, curiosity getting the best of her.

“It’s a reminder that I have a detention with Snape tonight,” Harry stated nonchalantly, as if there was nothing to it.

“When did you get a detention, Harry?” Hermione demanded.

“Erm, on my way back from Quidditch practice yesterday,” Harry said, thinking quickly. “I rode my broom back up to the castle because it was faster, but against the rules, you know.”

“I do know,” Hermione said, sounding disappointed in him. Ron and Neville cracked up with laughter.

“Good one, mate,” Ron said, and slapped Harry’s back. Harry grinned at them. Hermione looked furious for some reason and stuffed the information about the holiday in Chicago into her bag in a hurry.

“I’m going to class, boys. Laugh all you want, but I want no part in it,” she said angrily and turned her back as she set off.

“She’ll forgive me,” Harry said, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes. Usually he and Hermione got along very well, but sometimes she took the rules too far. It was true he was in fact lying, but none of them knew that, and Hermione would indeed forgive him if he got good information concerning the horcruxes.

-break-

“Mr. Potter, why are you limping? We had fixed that two months ago, correct?” Professor Snape said as Harry entered the Potions classroom. Harry saw that Draco was already there.

“Am I?” Harry asked as he had certainly not noticed. He thought it about it for a moment and realized his residual limb was quite sore but being used to blocking pain out of his mind, he had honestly not noticed the change in his gait. “I guess so, sir.”

“Have you taken any pain potions recently?” Snape asked with a vaguely softer voice.

“It has been a few weeks, professor,” Harry said quietly. Snape fetched a potion from nearby and told Harry to drink it before they got started. Harry gulped it down, wincing at the taste. This one seemed particularly bitter.

“Professor, is there a way to make this taste better?”

“How would you have it taste?” Snape asked, not unkindly, but also wondering if he was about get himself into something.

“Like chocolate ice cream,” Harry said. “Or treacle tart.” Draco laughed from where he was sitting as he overheard the conversation. He, too, would love better tasting potions. Harry could see Snape attempt to hide a smile.

“Have a seat beside Mr. Malfoy,” he said briskly. (Maybe to cover up the urge to laugh, Harry thought.) Snape pulled a chair over and sat down across from the two boys.

“Potter, Malfoy has informed me that you and three other first year students know about the existence of horcruxes. Is this correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered. “Professor McGonagall told us a few things about them, but she does not know how many there are, probably because Professor Dumbledore doesn’t how many there are for sure. He believes he has three of them already, in addition to the living piece of soul you captured. I don’t know.”

“Indeed. Dumbledore knows many things, but he does not know everything. No one really does. That said, Potter, I do know more information because I was a Death Eater for a time. Eventually, I changed sides and spied for Dumbledore. I told him about the horcruxes, but not the number that are in existence,” Snape said. Harry and Draco both leaned forward, in anticipation of the number.

“I believe there are six in total. Voldemort had planned to create more but ran into some problems during the first war. Once he heard of the prophecy, he rushed about to create another, but was unsuccessful with the preparations,” Snape said with a cold chuckle. Harry and Draco glanced at one another, and Draco asked,

“Did you do something, Professor?”

Snape nodded in the affirmative, but responded, “It does not matter what I did, now, but I was able to prevent him from creating another. I have reason to believe he wanted to create up to seven horcruxes, but I could not allow that to happen. Do you understand what happens every time one is created? A person’s soul is split. By the time you ‘killed’ him as a baby, Harry, his soul had already been split six times. Voldemort was missing parts of himself. It was even easier for your mother protect you with her love, because he was a fraction of his original soul. By then, he knew nothing of love. If he ever knew anything of it.”

“The last fraction of his soul managed to survive somehow to eventually take up possession of Quirrell. Voldemort’s soul and the horcruxes were what Dumbledore has been searching for, for several years. He knew that Voldemort was not truly killed the night your parents died, Harry, unlike nearly everyone else. Many would not believe him, so he kept what he thought to himself. I only confirmed his thoughts when I informed him of the horcruxes I thought to exist.”

“I became the Boy Who Lived, then,” Harry said, nodding to himself.

“No one had ever survived the Killing Curse as you did, Harry,” Snape said softly.

“Why do you care about me?” Harry asked impulsively. Draco looked back and forth between Harry and Snape, wondering what was going on and if he should leave, although he would never do that without permission.

“I loved your mother, Harry,” Snape said in a whisper. “Lily was my best friend and – and - the love of my life.”

“Why was she with my father instead of you?” Harry asked.

“We argued, I said some hurtful things, I joined Voldemort. I regretted all of it soon after, but that was not the only reason. Lily loved me as a best friend, but not - um - romantically. She could not see me that way. It was one of the reasons we fought.”

Harry listened, feeling rather sorry for Snape, but realized that if Lily had been romantically involved with Snape, then James would not have been his father! Perhaps he would have grown up here in Hogwarts! The shock of the idea must have shown on his face because Draco touched his shoulder to get his attention.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said, shaking his head a bit. Snape had his head in his hands.

“Professor?” Draco asked, “May we return to the horcruxes?”

Snape’s head came up from his hands, distracted look on his face. “Certainly, Mr. Malfoy.” They watched Snape try to conceal the tears that were threatening at the corners of his eyes.

“Do you know what the other horcruxes are, sir?” Draco asked, eager to move this meeting along. It had been too long already. They had homework to complete, after all.

“The items Dumbledore has found are indeed some of the Horcruxes, Hufflepuff’s cup, a ring, and a small toy snake Voldemort had as a child. I recall rumours of Voldemort hiding another in the library of Malfoy Manor many years ago. Mr. Malfoy, your father was charmed to forget about it until such time as it might be needed, such as when Voldemort would try to come back to life. As we will not let that happen, it most likely remains in the Manor library.”

“Sir, I will try to find it when I go home for Easter break,” Draco confirmed. Snape gave him a few instructions on how Draco should wear dragonhide gloves while searching, and to not directly touch the item if he were to find it. He should place it in a bag Snape would give him and send an owl notifying him that he had found it.

“And, Mr. Potter, I have an idea where the last one, a locket, may be located. The second one is here in Hogwarts. I do not know exactly what item or where it is located, although we suspect it may be another artefact of the Founders. Meanwhile, we must discover how to effectively and safely destroy the horcruxes, and the item in which Voldemort’s last piece of soul resides. As you are the person mentioned in the prophecy, Harry, I believe you are the one now required to destroy the pieces of soul. Dumbledore was indeed correct that Voldemort would come after you, even after his supposed death. You will be the one to end it forever.”

Harry closed his eyes. He would have to find something strong enough to ‘kill’ the horcrux objects.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Hermione, Ron, and Neville will know about this, too. We are a team. They’ll help me find how to kill the horcruxes. I cannot do it by myself.”

“Indeed,” Snape said. He was impressed by the boy’s maturity. It was so unlike that of James Potter, in his opinion.

“Is there anything else, professor?” Harry asked.

“We’ve discussed everything needed for the moment, so I will excuse you both for the evening. If anyone asks, tell them I made you both scrub the caldrons as they have never been scrubbed before, and I was not pleased with your efforts,” Snape said, trying to hide a smile. “Can’t have the other students think I’ve gone soft.”

Harry and Draco both grinned at Snape and each other. Just before they left, Snape handed Harry a folded piece of parchment. “Please give this note to Ms. Granger.”

They hurried as fast as possible to the library, to join up with their ‘study group.’ Harry knew that Hermione would demand to know what went on immediately. She and Harry had already made up earlier in the day, and he had let her know that it was not a real detention. Harry handed her Snape’s parchment. She opened it quickly and smiled as she read it.

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously, this time being on the other side of receiving a mysterious parchment.

“I’ll tell you later,” Hermione whispered enthusiastically, and then raising her voice back to a normal volume, she asked, “So how was detention?” Harry tried to look exhausted, but the truth was that he felt better than he had in the last few days because of the earlier pain potion. The achiness in his residual limb came back at times, he realized, as he practically quoted Snape’s reason word for word, loudly, in case the few other students in the library were listening.

Draco, too, tried to look tired and put out that he had to study with Gryffindor students, although he was energized, if anything, at present. He had told his fellow Slytherins that he had to study with Hermione because she was the best student in their year, and if he was going to keep up with her, he obviously should study what she did. Hermione had countered this by suggesting he take up the study of algebra and other so-called muggle subjects with she and Harry. He was secretly working on algebra now and had discovered he was quite good at it. His father would be angry if he found out Draco was studying a muggle subject. Perhaps not as angry as he would be when he found out Draco was helping in the fight to prevent Voldemort from coming back to life. His father seemed to believe Voldemort was correct, that the Purebloods should be the only ones permitted to exist. Draco, even though aged eleven, did not believe this. His mother would not let him believe this. She was cold and steely in her own right, but she loved him, and she loved most of her family. She did not care for her sister Bellatrix, who had been in Azkaban since she was captured all those years ago. She had made a reconnection with her sister Andromeda, however, but their reunions were always in secret. She had taken Draco with her a few times when he was younger, and he had gotten to know his cousin Dora a bit.

Looking around, to make sure no one was watching them, Draco took out a piece of parchment, as if he were about to start on an essay, and a quill. Near the top in very small letters, he wrote,

‘Dumbledore’s three objects and -
1. Object in Malfoy Manor. May be a book in the library.
2. Object in Hogwarts. A founder’s artefact?
3. Third object. Locket. S has an idea of location and will let us know.’

He pushed the parchment to the centre of the table. Hermione caught on immediately but is only took a few seconds more for the realization to hit Ron and Neville.

“What now?” Hermione asked in a low voice. Harry took up his quill and jotted a note below Draco’s.

‘Find the Hogwarts object. Research how to destroy them for good.’

‘Of course!” Hermione murmured, and gave Harry a look that said he had to tell her all later. He would, but for now, their group was not alone in the library. They moved back into their studies for class verbally but passing notes on Draco’s parchment with ideas as to how to kill the horcruxes and where to search for the Hogwarts object. Draco found himself trading algebraic equations with Hermione once they had completed their work for their upcoming classes. Harry was in the middle of a book on the Hogwarts’ founders, thinking that they might know how to kill a horcrux. Neville was studying his Potions book as he wanted to improve his grade, and he was still a bit frightened of Professor Snape. Ron wandered through the library stacks at some point, vaguely searching for books that might help their mission. Finally, just before they needed to leave for curfew, all the other students had left the library.

“Finally,” Hermione breathed out. “We know where most of them are, and we will trust Snape.” The others agreed, although Ron wanted to disagree. She quelled that with a quick look in his direction. “Draco knows what he is doing. Harry, I assume you know what you are doing, right?” Harry nodded solemnly.

“I will talk to Dumbledore to see if he has any ideas on how to destroy them. I am not sure he has told us everything he knows,” he said, feeling very much as if he were the main character of a mystery novel.

“The rest of us will brainstorm ideas on finding the horcrux in Hogwarts, right, guys?” Hermione asked. Neville agreed, and Ron held up the single book he had found in the library that he wished to look through. It was about the Founders of Hogwarts.

The Gryffindors said goodnight to Draco and headed off directly to the Gryffindor common room. Neville and Ron went up to bed while Harry and Hermione found a cosy corner where they could talk in relative privacy. Harry shared the remainder of information shared by Snape, and Hermione showed him the note from Snape. She had an appointment with Madam Pomfrey and Snape in the hospital wing the following morning. They were taking precautions because Snape was not sure what would happen when Hermione took the potion he had been working on for her. It could help recover more use of her leg, but she knew it was experimental.

“I’ll go with you, of course,” Harry said, patting her hand.

“I know,” Hermione said. “Mum will be here, too. I felt had to tell her what I wanted to try, and Snape is sending her a list of ingredients, so she knows exactly what the potion contains. She just doesn’t want me to be disappointed if this doesn’t work.”

“Will you be disappointed? Remember, the potion Snape made for me was not a guarantee, but it did work, although it did not really fix the nerves altogether. It just made it so my prosthetic leg could get the messages easier, and I wouldn’t lose my balance so much. Since your brace was charmed, you have had good balance. I was jealous for a while,” Harry admitted.

“Really? Yes, I will be disappointed if it doesn’t help. I suppose what I really want is to not have to wear the brace at all and just go back to how I was before this happened,” Hermione said with a little sob. Harry put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently.

“I know,” he said simply.

Harry did know, but as for himself, everything else that had come out of that horrendous night had been quite an improvement on his life before. He did not say anything now, however, as he did not want to invalidate her feelings. She had a right to her feelings. He had learned this from his Mind Healer, with whom he had spent time discussing words and terminology. The Mind Healer (that is how he thought of her) told him once that he was rather mature for his age. He was not so certain about that, but there were times he certainly felt older than he was.

“I know,” he repeated, squeezing her shoulders again as she cried.

Chapter Text

Minerva’s heels clacked slightly as she strode along the stone floor towards the Potions classroom. She was aware that Severus would be going up to meet Poppy soon, to test a potion on Hermione. She planned to join them as well, to watch over her little lion. However, she must speak to Severus now. There had been a long discussion the night before, and now she was ready to act. She had spoken with Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE early that morning, and now the wheels were turning. Amelia would address the Wizengamot and argue for Sirius Black to be released from Azkaban, after she returned with memories from Sirius from the night James and Lilly were murdered. These memories would help to confirm the case if necessary. Given that Sirius had never had a trial, his case should be reconsidered at the very least.

“Severus,” she said. He was seated at his desk, making notes of some kind.

“Minerva,” he said. “Is the plan working out, then?” One eyebrow raised. Minerva cast a Silencing spell around them.

“Yes, and Albus knows nothing of it. Naturally he will when Amelia brings it to the court, but I believe it is better that he knows nothing for the moment. Amelia has agreed to frame it so that Albus will not know that we initiated this. It is reasonable that as the head of Magical Law Enforcement, she has begun to review old cases, and she discovered Sirius never had a trial. She wants to rectify that situation.”

“Excellent, indeed,” Severus said. “Although when his name is cleared, I will have to talk to the mutt.”

“Yes, you must, Severus. You must both overcome your pasts, and move on,” Minerva said.

“I assume Black will go to St. Mungo’s after he is released from Azkaban.” He did not sound particularly enthusiastic as he still had differences with the man.

“Yes, I do believe that would be prudent. Life in Azkaban is not easy, although I do wonder if he has been able to turn into his Animagus form whilst there. Animals are less affected by the Dementors,” Minerva said with a slight grin.

“How will he take finding out Harry has been adopted by a half-blood family?” Severus wondered aloud.

“I do think he will understand, but he will be angry that he did not get to be there for Harry all these years. He will understand and accept it particularly if we show him the photos,” Minerva said.

“Is Harry aware you have those photos, Minerva? Perhaps he does not wish you to show people,” Severus chided her gently.

“When we tell him about Sirius, I will make a point to ask his thoughts about this,” she said. “I want to wait to tell Harry until Sirius is cleared, if at all possible.”

--break—

Harry would normally never think about skipping class, but he made this decision easily. He must be with Hermione while she tried this potion. He told her he would be coming with her to go see Madam Pomfrey, since she had done the same for him. She just smiled at him as he joined her after breakfast. Today Hermione was quiet, rather nervous, not her usually talkative self. At the entry to the hospital wing, Professor McGonagall was waiting for them. She said nothing about Harry’s presence, and Harry recognized that perhaps she was not surprised when he had shown up with Hermione.

“Ms. Granger,” Madam Pomfrey said, while bustling toward them, “Come. Lie down on this bed, and I will do a diagnostic scan, so we can have a baseline to compare to after the potion.”

“That’s my bed,” Harry said with smirk.

“Harry, learn how to share, will you?” Hermione said with a half-smile, half ‘older sister’ type smirk. She felt herself relax fractionally.

As Madam Pomfrey ran the diagnostic scan, Professor Snape entered the room holding a vial of potion.

“Here you are, Ms. Granger,” he said as he approached the bed. “A warning - I have not attempted to make it taste sweet. It will be as bitter as always.”

“I haven’t complained before, Professor,” Hermione said. Harry, now seated at her side, laughed aloud.

“Mr. Potter does not care for bitter potions and has lodged a complaint,” Snape replied while he tried to remain appropriately serious.

“Is it possible to make potions taste better without changing their properties?” Hermione asked as this, too, helped her to relax.

“It is certainly possible, Ms. Granger, but it is not something in which I am particularly interested at this moment. Are your parents aware that you are drinking this potion?”

“Permission has been granted to test this potion by Ms. Granger’s mother,” Professor McGonagall noted.

“Is she here yet?” Hermione asked, anxiety snaking into her voice. Harry held her hand tightly.

“She should arrive any moment in the floo,” Professor McGonagall replied, but just as she finished speaking, the floo roared to life, and Tara landed on her feet.

“Hello!” she called from in front the floo. “I am getting much better at this now. Good morning, Minerva, Poppy, Severus.”

“Mum, you came,” Hermione said in a small voice. Tara hurried over and hugged Hermione and Harry, before seating herself next to Harry. She leaned over and said softly to Hermione,

“Remember that I will support anything you wish to try as long as it is a reasonable request. This qualifies as one of these requests. However, I hope you do understand that this may not work. Professor Snape is not a miracle worker. You had a lot of damage in your leg, and we understand why you would want to try this experiment. Just remember that we all love you no matter what happens, and you will be fine.”

Hermione nodded, and Snape stepped over to pass the vial of potion. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and then then poured it down her throat, swallowing as quickly as possible. It was awful tasting. Madam Pomfrey took the vial and replaced it in her hand with a glass of water, for which Hermione was very grateful.

After a few minutes had passed, Hermione relaxed slightly into the pillows on the bed. There was pain potion in the vial, too!

“I think potions would taste better with some flavours. Strawberry-flavoured pain potion - think of that!”

“A better option than treacle tart flavour,” Snape muttered under his breath. Harry dared to roll his eyes, and then laughed again. Everyone else ignored Harry.

“How long will it take to know if it is making a difference,” Hermione asked. “I mean, the achiness and pain are gone, but it still feels like odd.”

“Let’s wait thirty minutes, and then Madam Pomfrey will run diagnostics with your leg again to see if there have been any obvious changes,” Snape said.

“You should teach Tara potions, sir,” Harry commented with a cheeky grin, “so she can make us pain potions over summer.” Tara gasped at the idea because she loved reading about potions. Why not try making them? Besides, she had further ideas.

“Minerva has already mentioned that to me, Ms. Shayani,” Snape said with a thoughtful look. “I am willing as I am sure you are very experienced in lab work, and will not explode cauldrons, unlike some of the dunderheads I teach.” He was having trouble hiding the laugh that wanted to explode out, very unusual for him.

Two of the smartest dunderheads were sitting right in front of him, and they were laughing as if it were the greatest joke every told, which Severus very much doubted.

“Severus, are you willing to tutor me? I do wish to formally go through training as a Healer, and a strong knowledge of potions is a requirement,” Tara stated hopefully. “And please, call me Taraneh.”

“Taraneh, yes, I will indeed tutor you. Would Sunday mornings work?”

“I am on call at hospital every third Sunday, but am available on the rest,” she said.

“I am pleased that is settled,” Minerva said (Harry was honestly confused as to what he should call her at this moment.)

“Mum, you’ll like Potions,” Hermione commented. “I do, very much. Making potions has so much order.”

Even Severus Snape stayed with the others gathered around Hermione’s bed as they waited with her to see if anything would change. He had to admit that he could easily see past Harry’s outward appearance now, and that was a good thing as he had to learn to get along with his former nemesis, Sirius Black, provided all worked out as it should. The Horcruxes would all be found, and Harry would destroy them. As he was contemplating this, something he had read years ago presented itself to his mind.

“Basilisk venom!” he exclaimed, interrupting the light conversation. “It is rare, expensive to acquire normally, but I have a small vial of it, given to me by Professor Slughorn many years ago.”

“To destroy the horcruxes?” Harry asked at the same time Hermione exclaimed her surprise. They were delighted Professor Snape had remembered this. “I wondered about the Sword of Gryffindor as a possibility. Swords are rather a big deal in stories.”

“Both are excellent ideas,” Minerva said, seeing additional light at the end of the tunnel. “Excellent indeed. Perhaps add venom to the sword, I’d say.”

“Um, pardon me, but what are horcruxes?” Tara asked, bewildered. Oh. Right. This situation was a secret. Harry looked beseechingly to Minerva.

“Taraneh, I am aware you have read almost as many books as the children about wizarding history,” Minerva started.

“Yes, and that is why I know about the War with Voldemort and the role Harry played in it as a baby,” Tara stated. Harry and Hermione (who was trying to focus on these matters rather than what might be happening in her body) did not realize their mum had actually read so much. They had just thought she was learning to use her wand.

“We learned recently that Voldemort created items called horcruxes. It is very dark magic and rarely done. He separated his soul into several pieces so that if he died, he would be able to be brought back to life using another piece of his soul. It made him very unstable, more than he already was,” Minerva explained, preparing to go on the defensive if Taraneh chose to unleash any anger about not being informed about this it.

However, Tara was very calm about this news. She knew Harry was the child of the prophecy, and that the children had been preoccupied with something recently. She would not have guessed this, exactly, but she had wondered where Voldemort had gone after his so-named ‘death.’ This seemed to explain it, how Voldemort would be able to return.

“Harry must destroy these Horcruxes, I presume?” she asked, putting her arms around both Harry and Hermione.

Snape looked up, straight at Tara, his new highly intelligent Potions student. She had deduced that very quickly. “Indeed, he must.”

“I am not going to prevent his nor Hermione’s involvement in this. It must be done, as much as I would like to take them both home, but they are thriving here at Hogwarts otherwise. However, I insist that when it is time, I wish to be present if possible.”

Minerva glanced at Snape. He shrugged. “I am sure we can plan for that, Taraneh,” Minerva replied after a moment. Tara nodded in reply.

“Let’s check on our patient, why don’t we?” Madam Pomfrey suggested after a few more moments. “Ms. Granger, how are you feeling?”

“I – I – don’t feel much difference, although my leg was tingling for a while. Oh, I think maybe it is better than it was. The pain potion made a difference, too. Can I try walking?”

“I’d rather another diagnostic scan be performed first,” Snape said. Madam Pomfrey nodded in agreement and did the appropriate scans.

“Ah, some things have changed,” Pomfrey said as she brought the list to compare with the first one, which Snape had in his hands. He leaned over the read the new list.

“Yes, I see, but look at this.” He got up and lead her away from Hermione’s bed to discuss a few things.

“I can’t try to walk?” Hermione asked her mother anxiously. “Why did Snape say ‘but’?”

“Let’s see –“ Tara started to say, when she was beckoned to join the others in their meeting. Minerva moved forward to sit beside the bed. Harry was holding Hermione’s hand on the other side.

After a few more minutes that seemed like hours to Hermione, her mum returned with Snape and Pomfrey.

“It’s not good news, is it?” Hermione said, not as a question but as a fact.

“Ms. Granger,” Snape began. “There is some of both. It appears that your knee is somewhat improved, in that you have more feeling than you used to, there and into your foot. I also believe that we have solved many of your pain issues, as least for a few months. It will make walking easier for you.” He looked to Madam Pomfrey, who took over the explanation.

“However, the potion did not much help the motor functions of your knee and ankle. There was too much muscle damage,” she finished.

Hermione tried not to cry in front of everyone. She had truly hoped for more and wondered again if it would have been better if her leg had been amputated, so she could have a magical prosthesis like Harry.

“So I will need the brace yet,” she said with a wavery voice.

“Yes, otherwise your leg will be unable to hold you up,” her mum said, pulling Hermione onto her lap, and sitting on the bed. “If you tire of the brace sometimes, particularly now since you have more sensation, you are welcome to use your crutches. I know you have been so proud that you haven’t needed them in nearly a year, but it’s alright to use them. No one will think badly of you. ”

The others left the area quietly, and Harry even willingly left with Minerva after a moment. There was class to attend, and Hermione needed time alone with her mum. Besides, he needed to find Ron, Draco, and Neville to share the news about how to destroy the Horcruxes!

¬¬¬¬¬¬______________________

Just before Easter break, Sirius Black was cleared of all charges. He was taken to St. Mungo’s under heavy security with Minerva supervising. There he was washed, fed, and talked to a Mind Healer. Minerva briefed him on Harry, although not yet all the details of Harry’s past. On the whole, however, Sirius was in very good shape, according to his new Mind Healer. Minerva had been right that he had spent most of his time in Azkaban in his dog form. He was required to officially register as an Animagus as a condition of his clearance.

Privately, with Minerva (who had informed him that he may call her ‘Minerva’ but not Minnie!), he learned that she would transfer legal magical guardianship over to him. Harry did wish to still be a part of the Shayani-Granger family in the muggle world. After an hour of stewing, SIrius admitted that he was not prepared to care for Harry full time. He had ten years to make up for at this point. Minerva promised to introduce him to Tara and Tim, so that Sirius could get to know them. Perhaps Harry could stay with him on occasion. After Minerva brought Sirius to Hogwarts, she sat down to talk to Harry and introduce him to his godfather.

“You’re my godfather?” Harry asked wonderingly as he took a step closer to the dark-haired man across from him. He could see Sirius was as anxious as he was. Minerva waited outside in the hall to give them privacy.

“Yes, and I am so sorry, Harry, for all the hurt I caused you by not being there for you,” Sirius replied in a whisper.

“I forgive you, you know. I reckon it was Dumbledore’s fault, too. Did you really move in with my dad when you were a teenager?” Harry asked. “Minerva said you did.”

“She allows you to call her Minerva? She never liked it when I called her Minnie,” Sirius said a bit jovially. “And yes, I moved in with your dad. I do wish that you had been able to get to know your grandparents. They were very kind to me. Effie made the best food I have ever eaten.”

“Farsi baledi?” Harry asked with an impish grin. Sirius laughed out loud, startled he could laugh after all this time.

“Yekam,” Sirius replied after he got his laughter under control.

“Only a little? That’s alright,” Harry said. “I have been learning from my sister, adoptive mum, and adoptive aunt. I’m not quite fluent yet.”

Sirius assumed they were Persian. “First generation or are they from Iran recently? I ask because I am curious.”

“Oh, first generation. Tara joon’s parents were from Iran, and her mother returned to Iran after her father died, to care for HER mother and sister. There was a war there, you know, just a few years ago? Tara says that perhaps one day, we might go to visit, or perhaps her mother will come back here. That would be better, as Tara and Tim didn’t get married by a mullah, so they would need to do that to be able to go to Iran together,” Harry explained quickly. “They went once before Mione was born, before the revolution.”

“I see,” Sirius said, although he did not understand the portion about a mullah at all.

“Did my grandmother make Persian food for you?” Harry eagerly inquired.

“Of course, she did,” Sirius replied, watching his godson’s face as it moved in reaction.

“What was your favourite? I will make it for you when you come to visit me over Easter holiday,” Harry said. Sirius laughed again.

“My favourite was joujeh kabob, dill rice, and kaskeh-badamjan. Mm, kashk-e badamjan the way your grandmother used to make it was the most delicious food I have ever eaten.” He licked his lips just thinking about it.

Feeling suddenly quite anxious, Harry said nervously, “I will try to make it as well as she did, but I will get Tarajoon or Tina to help me.”

“It will be good, I’m sure, because you are making it for me! Do you really want me to visit your new home, Harry?” Now Sirius was the uncertain one in this conversation. Harry smiled so hard his face almost hurt!

“Of course, Sirius! They will love you, and they might even do something to help you out. Tim got Aunt Petunia a job to help her out. She was very grateful. Do you have a place to live?”

“Yes, in London. The Black family residence. I know my mother died last year. Good riddance, I say. I am quite sure the place will need to be cleaned immediately. Not entirely sure I want to keep it. If I do, you will have your own bedroom to be certain.”

“Thank you. That’s very nice of you. I have a bedroom at Aunt Petunia’s house now, too. I don’t have to sleep in the cupboard anymore.”

“I still can’t believe Dumbledore gave you to the Dursleys,” Sirius muttered into his hands. If only he had done things differently.

“Yeah, I’m still rather pissed at him about that,” Harry said. Sirius flinched at Harry’s choice of words, knowing that Lily would have been annoyed with her son.

“I’m more than pissed, but since you seem to be doing well, I will try to NOT act on what I want to do,” Sirius said. “Hey, Harry, do you know Remus?”

“I’ve seen pictures of him that Minerva has shown me, but I don’t even know if he’s still alive. I assumed not, because I couldn’t get Minerva to say much about him.”

“Oh, he’s alive, but he has some secrets that he will have to talk to you about. Probably the reason he couldn’t raise you, besides the fact that Dumbledore hid you.”

Minerva entered the room. “Are you boys getting along, then?”

“Famously, Minnie!” Sirius said. Harry could see Minerva was trying not to roll her eyes, and giggled. “Anyway, where is Remus?”

“I have owled him to let him know you are out of Azkaban, and that you will be leaving for your home soon,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, Minerva,” Sirius said more formally, Harry noticed. “Thank you for everything you’ve done to clear my name.”

“You are more than welcome. Harry has fifteen additional minutes to speak with you, and then he must hurry off with me to Transfiguration,” Minerva stated, business-like. Sirius grinned as she left the room again.

“So, tell me about this marvellous new leg of yours.” When Harry looked up, startled by the question and growing anxious, Sirius sought to reassure him. “Minerva told me the story and showed me some photos. I am not going to ask about that now. Maybe someday when we are more comfortable with each other, we can discuss it. For right now, I want to hear about your magical leg.”

Harry knew he visibly relaxed when he let out a relieved sigh. He would have talk to Sirius someday about everything that had happened to him, but not today, so he leaned down and pulled up the hems of his jeans. They were loose fitting (but in a good way, not in the Dudley’s-old-clothes way). He pulled both up so that Sirius could see the differences between his legs. There were some, but it was not immediately obvious to a wizard’s or witch’s eye.

“Shite, that’s impressive. Come a long way from Moody’s wooden leg,” Sirius marvelled.

“Mad-eye Moody?” Harry asked. “I read about him in a book. He’s an Auror. Why doesn’t he get a better prosthetic leg? Does he charm the wood lighter? I think solid wood might be too heavy.”

Sirius laughed. Harry was very inquisitive like Lily. He had not laughed this much in a long, long time. “Someday, Harry, you will have the pleasure to meet Mad-Eye Moody, and you can ask him that yourself!”

“Alright,” Harry replied, and proceeded to share with Sirius how his leg worked and of finding out he was a wizard, and how he was finally able to use his prosthesis to walk.

The group of five friends met one last time in the library before their Easter holiday. Draco went over his plans for searching in Malfoy manor. Harry reported that Sirius now knew he should look for a Dark magic object in his house, as Snape seemed reasonably sure that one would be there, as he remembered that Regulus (Sirius’ brother) had been given one to watch over, before he disappeared. Snape and Sirius were attempting to get along, which Harry was happy to see, although he admitted to himself that Snape had every right to be angry with Sirius. Sirius was inclined to believe Snape about the Horcrux, and therefore, would keep an eye out for it as he cleaned Grimmauld Place.

Hermione was most enthusiastic that they had a method for destroying the Horcruxes now. (She did not share anything with the others about her leg, except Harry, of course, although it was affecting her more than she would prefer.) Harry was relieved, though anxious about the actual destruction of the Horcruxes. Ron was quite happy not to have to do more research. Neville felt he needed more to do now, but Harry suggested that he talk with his grandmother to see if she will allow him to visit in the summer. Neville groaned about this but promised he would try.

Chapter Text

Harry watched Hedwig fly off toward London in the early morning light. The sun had just peaked over the horizon. It would be a beautiful day as no rain was expected. They would have Sirius over a meal in three days’ time, and he was invited to bring Remus Lupin, as well. Harry was highly pleased with this, but was anxious about Tara and Tim. Would they feel he was trying to replace them? He was not planning to do so as Tara and Tim felt like his parents now, while Sirius and Remus seemed like long lost uncles. Harry contemplated calling them Mum and Dad now, and they had invited him to do so, but it still felt somewhat strange to him although he had known them for an entire year. The first anniversary of the loss of his leg had occurred the day before. He had discussed the anniversary with his Mind Healer before the Easter Holidays, and felt he handled it well.

This was the first visit home since he had been able to truly walk again. He reveled in it. It remained odd that he could not feel his prosthetic leg, but it had also become normal to him. He felt confident in nearly every step he took, and because he cared about others, he wished that Muggles had access to magical prosthetics, particularly abused children. He tucked the idea into the back of his mind for someday.

Harry went to Hermione’s room to see if Hermione was awake yet. He peeked through the crack in the door and saw she was reading Austen’s Northanger Abbey. She reread it at times she needed comfort.

“Sobhakheh, Mione,” he said as he knocked on the door frame and let himself through. He was still wearing his pyjamas, but he had been so eager to send the note he had written the night before to Sirius, that he was up early to pull on his leg and head down to their makeshift owlery. He went to sit on the chair next to Hermione’s bed. Hermione did not say anything as she was still occupied in finishing a chapter but scooted over a bit and motioned to Harry to join her under the warm duvet. He did so as he removed his leg again, just because it was more comfortable. He noticed that Hermione’s crutches were out and against the wall nearby. Maybe Mione was trying to be more relaxed, rather than putting on her brace the moment she woke up, as she had done for the past year. He had, instead, been the one to put his leg on first thing this morning.

“Sobhakheh, Harry joon,” Hermione said as she closed the book after marking her place. She smiled at him. “It’s nice to have a break. I never give myself a break. I feel I must learn everything as quickly as possible, but sometimes it is too much. That is why I don’t often re-read fiction. I have seen it as a wasted chance to learn new things, but - - but Mum helped me figure out some things a few weeks ago. She helped me see that I am just perfect as I am, and that I need to accept that while things aren’t perfect, I don’t need to obsess over finding solutions to problems if there are no solutions to be found. There may be solutions in the future, but I should try to live for NOW. I’ve not been doing that. That’s what you were doing last year and all of fall term. You weren’t letting the lack of a - a - cure stop you from enjoying life.”

“No, I reckon not, because what good would that do?” Harry asked thoughtfully. He could have given up a year ago, but then he would not have the life he had now.

“I thought that, too, but then when I saw you walking so well, maybe you were going to pass me by, and walk better than me,” Hermione replied, and thought it did not make sense they way she tried to explain it.

“You know, Hermione, that I walk just about as well you do with your charmed brace. It’s not a – er – a competition.” Harry said, trying to think of the appropriate word for what the situation was not.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I just do best when I feel in charge and know everything, and everything goes the way I want.”

“Me, too,” Harry said, and they both started giggling. How in the world did they get along so well together? “Mione? You want me to change the colour of your crutches?” he asked, and laughed aloud, shaking the bed. Hermione slapped his hand under the covers.

“I know how to do it, too, now,” she said, still giggling. “I’ve been trying to decide on an appropriate colour. Yours are red, so I don’t wish to copy you. Perhaps gold? What do you think? Or perhaps gold with a few thin red stripes. It would look very Gryffindor!”

“Yeah, gold with stripes sounds nice,” Harry said supportively, and then was quiet. Hermione glanced at his thoughtful face and took his hand.

“Are you alright, Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. I can’t wait to meet Remus. I –“ he stopped and looked at Hermione’s face. “I feel like I am being disloyal to our family. It doesn’t feel right to find out more about my original parents when I have you, Tara, Tim, Tina, but I am so excited and happy to learn more about my parents. And I want to call Tara, Mum, and Tim, Dad. Then I feel disloyal to my first mum and dad. It’s confusing, because I think of your parents as my mum and dad,” he finished with a sigh.

“Mum and Dad would be so happy if you started to call them Mum and Dad. I think Dad’s worried that Sirius is going to come here and take you away from us, because he doesn’t have magic,” Hermione said.

“If I call him Dad, then he won’t worry so much, right?” Harry said. He was not going to let Sirius and Remus take him away, that much he knew.

“Right, and maybe Dad will make friends with Sirius and Remus. There must be something they have in common.”

“Music! Dad loves music, and so does Sirius. He told me in the letter he owled yesterday. Sirius doesn’t know U2, really, but he knows so many others that were popular in the ‘60s and ‘70s. I bet he would love Dad’s stereo, even if it isn’t magical. My first dad introduced him to non-magical music when they were students,” Harry said, heaving a deep breath, anxiety lowering back down to normal levels.

“Brilliant,” Hermione commented happily and snuggled down under the covers again.

“I am happy to be home,” Harry murmured, trying to more fully relax. “I just wish we could use our magic here.

“We may be able to get away with it, since Mum uses magic,” Hermione said.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Although I really just want to fly on my broom, but the neighbours will see me. Unless Mum knows an invisibility spell? I have the cloak, but I’m not certain it will work while I am in the air.”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione commented. “I don’t understand what you like about flying so much.”

“I feel free,” Harry said. “I feel weightless. It makes up for not being able to run.” He still missed running but flying was better any day. It was one of things that he loved so much about the magical world, and it made him feel twinges of anger all over again, with Dumbledore, because he took Harry away from the magical world for so many years. He sort of understood better now why Dumbledore thought it was a good idea after he finally realized exactly how famous he was. Two months before, the Daily Prophet did another story on him (there had been a few speculative ones in the fall after other students mentioned Harry and the gossip going around in letters), in which it was assumed that Harry’s leg had finally been healed, and he was ‘whole’ again. Harry found these articles both anxiety-provoking and hilarious in turn. They had not asked him, and others, like Minerva, had refused to comment out of respect for Harry’s privacy.

“Not me.” A brief shiver ran down Hermione’s spine. She did wish she liked it better, because she could see what Harry meant, but it was just not for her.

After a bit, they made themselves get up as they were hungry for breakfast. Since it was there, Harry put his leg back on, and stood up. Hermione sighed and scooted herself across the bed to retrieve her crutches. She had decided she was going to give the brace a rest, just to see if she could. It would be a relief not to wear it all the time, as she was always aware it was there. Sometimes she was just tired of it, and now she was able to admit it.

Tim, seated at the table with a plate containing toast and eggs, looked up from the newspaper as the children entered the room. He smiled, pleased to see Hermione was following her mother’s excellent advice. Hermione needed to learn how to loosen up a little bit, take a bit of a break every now and then. He was amused to see Harry had his prosthesis on, as Harry had no problem taking a break if he felt he needed one. Tim kept his thoughts to himself as Harry anxiously announced,

“I want to start calling you Dad.”

“Nothing would please me more, son,” Tim said, his voice cracking a bit. He rose from his chair and drew Harry to his chest. Harry snuggled close, no longer flinching away as he used to.

“Dad,” Harry said after a few moments. “It feels good to say that.”

“It is good to hear,” Tim replied.

_____________________________________________

Sirius Black had arrived at Grimmauld Place, the Black family home in which he had grown up rather unhappily, and he had not been sure he even wanted to enter it. When he finally did, Kreacher, the ancient house elf was quite unhappy with him. Sirius was a traitor in Kreacher’s eyes, mainly because Sirius’ mother’s portrait said so, loudly and often. The first thing Sirius did was cover up the portrait, which helped the cause immensely. The second thing he did was order Kreacher to start cleaning as he had never cleaned before, particularly the kitchen. Kreacher grumbled and muttered under his breath, though he did, in fact, clean.

Sirius himself began by finding his old bedroom. Ah, just as he had left it! With a few flicks of his wand, he cleaned the room of dust and changed the sheets on the bed. He gazed at a photo of his friends for a few moments, but then then turned away to figure out what to do next to this shabby, but grand house. Remus would need a room if he wished to stay overnight. He was on his way now. They could look for the locket together. He would apologize to Remus, because Remus had been generally more peaceful, and had tried to stop he and James from going after Severus during their school years, but they never listened. Sirius remained unsure if he could get along with Severus, although their brief talk at Hogwarts had been quite interesting. Severus had asked for Sirius’ help, and though Sirius knew he was not told the entire story, Severus had let it be known that it was important to find a locket in Grimmauld Place, placed somewhere inside by his brother Regulus. It was to help Harry, however, and that was the most important thing. So, he began to look, cleaning rooms as he went along. He searched his brother’s bedroom, finding little of interest.

Remus arrived then and they had a pleasant reunion. Remus looked a little worse for wear. The full moon had been only two nights before, and Sirius felt bad that he had not been around all these years to support his friend. It also perhaps looked like Remus was down on his luck. Mostly likely it had been hard for him to find and keep a job. Sirius planned to offer to let him live in Grimmauld Place. He noticed that perhaps he had matured more than he thought he had in the years in Azkaban. Remus had noticed too and commented on it. They finished their reunion with a good meal together in the freshly cleaned kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

Two days later, whilst they cleaned, Sirius found a locket in a drawer in the drawing room, where he had been throwing out rubbish right and left (to Kreacher’s great discomfort.)

--Break--

Minerva brought out the chess set that she and Albus always played with. It was her favourite game and she quite enjoyed winning. Albus was good at many things, but not chess, and perhaps not working with children anymore. Yes, he was teaching some of the Defence classes now, with Severus filling in for the remainder, and quite competently, too, but she saw his heart was not in it. He had been so preoccupied for years with Voldemort, and now that perhaps it was going to be completely over soon, he was at loss as to what to do next. He was not interested in improving the school for the better, to make it accessible, to modernize it.

Her plan was to gently suggest that he retire. Albus would be welcome to remain at Hogwarts as Headmaster Emeritus, and if he really wanted something to do, he could teach Transfiguration in her stead. If not, she would hire a new professor for Transfiguration, in addition to a competent professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Perhaps two professors, if the money could be found. She also wished to add several courses of study that Hermione had discussed with her. Instructors for these courses would also need to be added. Albus just looked at her blandly when she had mentioned a few of these ideas in the last several months.

Albus Dumbledore knocked softly at Minerva’s door a short time later. Minerva invited him in and offered him tea. As they seated themselves around the chess board, Minerva gathered her courage to ask,

“Albus, have you considered retirement?”

“My dear Minerva, yes, I have considered retirement, and as soon as the horcruxes have been dealt with, I do plan to retire, and you will become Headmistress,” Albus said with a relaxed look on his face. “It is already agreed upon by the Board of Governors.”

“Ah, that is a relief to know, Albus,” Minerva said with a smile. Better than planned. “You may remain at Hogwarts if you like, to live, and teach if you so feel the desire.”

“Dear Minerva, I was hoping you would allow me to stay, and I will take the offer. However, I also plan to do a bit more travelling provided I feel up to it, so no, I will not take up a regular teaching schedule. Perhaps I can be available for students for a bit of tutoring on occasion,” Albus said, his eyes twinkling at the prospect of the future. Minerva observed a look of real excitement over the future come briefly across Albus’ face.

“Very well, that will be fine,” Minerva said. “Has the Board made a decision about whom the Deputy position may be filled?” She placed her nearly empty teacup aside and turned to the chess board. Although this was a conversation of great import, she still intended to win at chess. Albus chuckled and began to consider his first move.

“That is up to you, Minerva,” he replied, “when you come into the position. I assume it will be around the end of this term, as I suspect that Harry and his friends will find the remaining horcruxes.”

Minerva smiled as she already knew whom it would be, but she asked anyway.

“Who expects to become the next Deputy Head?”

Albus chuckled lightly at this question. “Filius was interested several years ago, but in recent years he has mentioned to me that he would rather start a proper Dueling Club. If you don’t select him as Deputy, then I assume you will assist him in this endeavour.”

“I do plan to make several changes in Hogwarts, Albus, as you well know,” she replied, with a pleasant yet challenging expression on her face. “I will add this to my list.”

“I assure you I will not stand in your way. I recognize that changes need to be made, but I am too old, and I have been too preoccupied for many years. I fought you on this, and for that I apologize. I will need to speak to Sirius Black and apologize as well.”

“Yes, Albus, please do,” Minerva said, and took her turn. She was already on her way to winning. “Meanwhile, what do you think about Severus for the Deputy position?”

“Minerva, he would be an excellent choice. He is young, and you will be able to convince him to follow your lead. He is extremely intelligent, as you well know,” Albus said, his eyes twinkling again, as he took his turn at chess. “You might, perhaps, put him in charge of assisting Filius with Dueling Club.”

“Indeed, I may,” she replied. She had much to think about now that it appeared her plans would come to fruition!

- Break -

Draco woke up on his first day of Easter holidays with a plan already in his head. The night before, after he had arrived home to the Manor, his father announced that he was going to be away on business in a few days’ time. Draco held back a snort, because though he loved his father, he would not miss him in the least. As it was, he rarely saw his father. His mother preferred to spend time with him, which he appreciated a bit more now that he had been away from her at Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, Draco was always welcome in the Manor Library. He was quite well-read when it came to wizarding literature, but after meeting Harry and Hermione, he was unwilling to claim to be well-read anymore. There were a few non-wizarding books in a corner of the library that were apparently well-known in the Muggle world, but his father claimed that the writers of the books were most likely wizards, so they had a place in their library. He would begin with reading those titles, and then ask his mother as she occasionally read non-wizarding titles that she charmed, so his father would not notice that it was a muggle book. Perhaps he would owl Hermione, but he did not wish for his father to discover quite yet that he was friends with Half-Bloods against his direct instructions.

So, on this day, with his father in the house, Draco wandered nonchalantly into the library ostensibly to find a book to help with his studies. His father was nowhere to be seen, but mostly likely he was in his study preparing for the business meetings. He wandered about a bit, scanning the titles, so that if his father happened upon him, he would not appear suspicious. His eyes swept over the book spines, and after a bit, wandered closer to the books on dark magic. It logically seemed that should be a place where something belonging to the Dark Lord would be located.

He did not see anything immediately that popped out as something suspicious, and he could not yet don his dragon hide gloves and search through the books until his father was out of the country. Instead, he walked over to the shelves of books that he meant to start reading. He might as well pick one out to read.

Draco slowly looked through the books, trying to decide which he should attempt to read first. He was shuffling around amongst aged copies of books by Charles Dickens, trying to decide which one to read, when he noticed a small nook behind the bookshelves. There was a singular book without a title on the binding. He looked around, no one had discovered his presence in the library just yet, although he was certain the house elves knew of his location. As much as he wished to reach in and pull out this mystery book immediately, he had to wait.

When his father was away, he would don the gloves, find out if wards were guarding this space, and then take it away to Snape and Dumbledore. Meanwhile, he would read a book by Dickens, who may or may not have been a wizard.

--Break--

Sirius stood in front of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place, thinking about the address where Harry lived with his new family. It was time to go, and behind him, waiting his turn, Remus cleared his throat.

“Shall I go first?” Remus asked calmly, although his scarred face looked pleasantly excited at the prospect of seeing Harry for the first time since he was a baby. Sirius shook his head.

“I’ll go. You have the address?”

“Right here,” Remus said, patting his pocket. “I have it memorized, too.”

“Alright,” Sirius said anxiously. He grabbed the floo powder and named the address clearly. Very quickly, he saw he was standing in a modern kitchen in front of a very old fireplace hearth. It was not dissimilar to his own. He had begun updating the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. In front of him, two children sat at the table.

“Sirius, you’re here!” Harry said happily, rising from the table. “This is my sister, Hermione. Is Mr. Lupin coming?”

“He should be along any moment,” Sirius said, reaching out to hug Harry. After he and Hermione shook hands, the fireplace roared to life and out came Remus Lupin. He stepped out quietly, brushing off his brown jumper before addressing Harry.

“Harry, I haven’t seen you since you were this big,” Remus said as he measured out a very small size with his hands while he smiled.

“I’ve seen photos,” Harry said with a grin. “You were about the same size.”

“Ah, already joking with me,” Remus said, smiling back at Harry. “This must be your sister?”

“Yes, she is Hermione, and she is the top of our year at Hogwarts,” Harry said, proud of his sister, and had little desire to move up from third place.

“Pleased to meet you, milady,” Remus said, bowing briefly to Hermione. She laughed.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Hermione said, holding her head high. “Welcome to both of you. Would you care for something to drink? Mum will be right down. Dad will be home from work shortly. Our Aunt Tina is coming, as well.”

“I see there is tea already,” Sirius said. “Some good Persian tea, perhaps?” Remus agreed.

“Shall we go into the lounge?” Harry asked when Hermione signalled to him that he ought to ask and that she would bring the tea itself.

“Alright,” Sirius said happily. He and Remus could see that the two kids were trying their hardest to be polite for company. They were both proud of Harry, although Remus felt bad, particularly, because he was not able to raise Harry as he would have liked.

As they settled down, both Sirius and Remus looked eagerly at Harry, who was seated once again in his favourite chair. His green eyes were extra bright as he gazed back at them. “Mr. Lupin, are you going to say that I look like both of my parents? Everyone else does.”

Remus laugh aloud, something he had not done in many years. “Of course, how can I not? And please, call me Remus.”

“Remus, what is so secret about you? I was told you could not have taken me in when I was a baby,” Harry asked, getting straight to the point. Remus did not hear any malice in the boy’s voice, just pure curiosity.

“I am a werewolf, Harry,” Remus said, mixed feelings showing on his scarred face. He had been one since he was a child, and now had to explain this to the 11-year-old son of his best friends. “I turn into a werewolf once a month on the full moon, but I don’t hurt or bite anyone else. I take wolfsbane to keep my human mind.”

“Oh, yes, we read about wolfsbane!” Harry exclaimed. “Hermione and I have been reading ahead.” He then added more solemnly, “I read about my parents and myself in books before starting at Hogwarts. Perhaps we can talk more about that later?”

“Of course!” Remus and Sirius said together, both sadness and excitement their expressions.

Hermione and their mum entered the room with tea and biscuits. Tara introduced herself to Sirius and Remus, and then set about pouring the tea. Hermione offered the Persian biscuits to the two gentlemen, and Sirius took a few with a grin.

“Nan-e Berenji! I haven’t had these in years,” he nearly shouted in his elation. He had not eaten well in Azkaban and hadn’t even realized that he had been craving them. “How did you know?”

Tara answered, laughing. “Harry joon told me that you two discussed Persian food, and my maman and baba often had them on hand for celebrations. So, I taught Harry how to make them earlier today. Today was my day off from work at hospital since I worked Sunday.” She passed steaming cups of tea to Remus and Sirius.

“We have made kabob and rice, too, but Aunt Tina is bringing the kashk-e bademjan,” Harry said. “She makes it the best and promises to teach me her recipe in summer.”

To be continued.

Chapter Text

“Harry, Hermione, Ms. Shayani,” Sirius said. “Before your family members arrive, I must tell you what I found in my family home earlier.”

“The horcrux?” Hermione gasped, her hand coming to her mouth. Sirius grinned.

“Yeah, and it’s safely with the others at Hogwarts now. Minerva made sure of it, as I cannot completely trust Dumbledore anymore,” he said.

“I rather understand that” Harry commented, without going into more detail. None of them needed more detail, not even Remus, as Sirius had explained to him what Harry had gone through.

“That is three in total so far,” Hermione said, in thought. “Two more according to Snape. Draco will be successful, I’m quite sure. The final horcrux should be in Hogwarts.”

“Have you found the Room of Requirement yet?” Remus asked softly and took a bite of his biscuit. In his opinion, these biscuits could use a bit of chocolate. He decided he would introduce Harry to chocolate digestives, if he didn’t already know of them.

“What’s that?” Harry asked. “We’ve not heard of it!”

“Not many know of it,” Remus said still in a soft calm voice, when he was in truth quite anxious inside. He, too, wanted to make up for lost time with Harry, and was feeling perfectly fine being an uncle as originally intended rather than a parent. He knew Sirius felt very badly, but there was nothing they could do to change the past. “It’s a room on the seventh floor of the castle, and it is hidden from view. It may be an interesting place to look for the horcrux.” He continued, describing how to gain access to the room. Harry had a good understanding and Hermione had written down exact directions.

Shortly thereafter, Tim arrived home, and Tina was there less than a minute later. Tim headed into the lounge to meet Harry’s godfather and uncle. Tina took a detour into the kitchen to place her freshly made noon and kashk-e bademjan on the table.

After introductions and greetings, they settled back to talk of more general matters. Sirius was quite shocked to discover that one could have latent magic, and then to be able to develop it as an adult. Taraneh laughed merrily at his reaction. Tina, when questioned, was content to share that she did not mind, not having magic. Tim decided it was time to talk music when the conversation slowed down.

“Sirius,” he said, to get the other man’s attention. “I hear you like music. Muggle music?”

“Yeah, I loved it once I started listening to it. James was really into it, and insisted I had to listen to his favourites. I really liked The Beatles and Pink Floyd. I assume John Lennon is still dead unless he was a wizard with a horcrux or two? Are Pink Floyd still together? The last album of theirs I heard before Azkaban was The Wall. I thought about it a lot while inside.”

“‘No dark sarcasm in the classroom’?” Harry quoted in question, thrilled his father liked these artists, too. He had not known this. Sirius barked out a laugh.

“More like ‘I have seen the writing on the wall’,” he replied. “But, yeah, I used to love the dark sarcasm line.”

“You need to listen to newer music, too” Harry said, feeling well educated. “Perhaps Dad could loan you some.”

“Yes, I reckon I could,” Tim agreed as he stood to go over to the shelves of music in a variety of formats. Most of the newer albums were on CD. Sirius was fascinated by the new technology and wondered if he could charm a cd player to work in his house if he purchased one. Grimmauld had a lot of old magic in it that could potentially interfere.

By the time that dinner was ready, Sirius had listened to U2, because when he heard the Shayani-Grangers were going to a concert, he immediately wanted to know what sort of music they would hear.

“Hey, Rem, you want to go? I’ll try to get tickets for us,” Sirius shouted, running a hand through his hair in his eagerness.

“Yes, Sirius, but it’s only six weeks from now. Perhaps they are sold out,” Remus said in his quiet manner.

“Ah, but we have magic! We’ll get in some way,” Sirius said confidently. Remus shook his head, and proceeded to the dining area off the kitchen, Sirius on his heels.

Taraneh issued instructions as to the seating of everyone. Sirius moaned when Tim carried the serving platter to the table, as it was loaded with saffron/dill rice and joujeh (chicken) kabob. A few moments later, he loudly complimented Tina on her mouth-watering kashk-e bademjan. Harry decided to himself, as everyone eagerly devoured the food he had helped make, that this was going to work out after all.

_ Break_

His father was away, and his mother had gone shopping with her sister (the nicer one, not the crazy one.) Draco was left to his own devices to do as he wished, within reason. There were always the house elves if he needed something.

Today he was prepared to retrieve the book he believed to be the horcrux.

He donned the dragon skin gloves and picked up the specially warded sack in which he was to place the book with his left hand. He took his wand up in his right hand and walked deliberately to the section of books where the hidden nook was located. After gently edging the books in front to the sides, he then cast the spells Dumbledore had taught him that would show if there were wards or traps present. Surprisingly, there was only one ward. It was simply an old Notice-Me-Not charm. For whatever reason, the charm had no longer been very effective, and Draco could obviously see it. There was also something else, very dark, which made Draco shiver. This had to be the Horcrux, right?

He carefully reached forward and had the book in his gloved hand in moments. He quickly dropped it in the sack and sealed it as tight as he could so the wards on the bag would be most effective. Holding the sack at arms’ length, he hurried over to a desk where he had left the charmed parchment Professor Snape had given him for this purpose. Laying the sack next to the parchment, Draco wrote carefully that he had retrieved it, and asked what he should do next. He added that he was home alone except for the house elves.

A response came through the parchment that if he could get the sack to the floo, Snape would take it from him. Draco had no idea if that was very secure or not but decided to trust one of his favourite teachers, nonetheless. He just wanted this book out of his house, and perhaps replace it with a different book, just so there was an illusion of the book in the nook.

Draco looked out into the corridor. He saw no trace of house elves, and quietly began his trek to the floo near the main entry, the sack hidden under his robes, although he still held it away from himself as much as was possible.

“Hope everyone appreciates what I’m doing,” he mumbled under his breath as he knelt in front the floo. He quietly called for Snape, and his teacher’s hands reached through the flames to take the sack.

The moment it was gone, Draco jumped up, and ran to his bedroom. He quickly peeled off the gloves, and his clothing, and took a very long shower.

--Break_

“We have the diary,” Severus said plainly as he entered Dumbledore’s office. Minerva was already there, relaxed back in a chair. Well, as relaxed she could ever be.

“Very, very good,” Albus said. “Lemon drop?”

“Thank you, no,” Severus replied as he always did. He moved to put Tom Riddle’s diary in the specially warded location where all the horcruxes were being kept. He and Minerva both had access to them now. If all went well, he would never have to be a spy again. It was a tiny hope he held in his heart, small, but there. He would never share this aloud to anyone, though, as he would rather eat the bowl full of lemon monstrosities than speak this aloud. He was also aware that even if the Dark Lord never came back to life again as planned there were still changes to be made at the Ministry, and Death Eaters still free to wander the earth.

“We have one more to find, then,” Minerva said.

“It has to be here in the castle,” Severus said, taking the seat next to her.

“Harry wrote a letter last night,” she said. “He said, ‘The werewolf suggested the room of requirement.’ It seems he has spoken with Remus Lupin. I wonder how he knows of the Room of Requirement.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Severus mumbled. Dumbledore chuckled.

“I told him, dear boy,” he said in an amused voice. “He went there as a student at times when he had to change, and the weather outdoors was inclement. Not every full moon but select months.”

“Why did I not think of that?” Minerva murmured. “Something I must keep in mind as Headmistress.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled rather suddenly. “Severus, what do think about serving as the next Deputy Headmaster?”

Severus wanted to let his mouth hang open in surprise, but instead kept it firmly closed, to hide his surprise. Dumbledore let out a short laugh.

“Is something wrong, Professor?” Severus asked faintly. “Are you planning to leave, or – or?” He could not finish his sentence and looked over to Minerva. She had a small smile on her countenance.

“Severus, I am perfectly fine. Quite old, to be sure, but I think it is time to pass on the mantle of Head of Hogwarts to Minerva. She and her young protégé, Ms. Granger, have many plans in mind, and we feel you are the perfect choice for Deputy. Meanwhile, you shall see me about as I plan to live here in Hogwarts at Minerva’s invitation. I plan to do some travelling, although portions of the year, I will remain busy as the head of the Wizengamot. In fact, I will have more time to make some changes there, as well.” Dumbledore looked very much at peace with this decision. Severus was honestly shocked as he had always thought Headmasters served until the day they died.

“Think about it, Severus,” Minerva said. “You have until the end of June to make a decision.”

“I will think about it, indeed,” he replied. “Do you really want me as Deputy? Sometimes I am not always the best to deal with the students. What about visiting the muggleborns? I am quite sure I do not make a good first impression.”

“I happen to adore visiting the potential muggleborn students, Severus. This summer we will go together, and I trust we will not be in such surprise as I had discovering Harry’s whereabouts and circumstances. It will be straightforward, I’m sure,” Minerva said confidently.

“I am leaving Hogwarts in good hands,” Dumbledore said. “Now, let us return to the other topic at hand. Do we attempt to find the Room of Hidden Things? I have found need of the Room of Requirement only once before. All other attempts on my part have failed.”

“I have been able to access it twice,” Minerva said. “Perhaps the children would have better fortune in getting it to open to them, because children tend to focus better on what they specifically need sometimes. Their minds are not as cluttered as those of adults.”

“My mind is not cluttered,” Severus griped, almost good-naturedly. “However, I was able to get the Room open a few times as a student. It provided me with some much-needed peace and quiet.” Dumbledore and Minerva looked at him in surprise. He shrugged.

“I was reading about Hogwarts and the rumour of its existence fascinated me. I found it one day,” he said and added his agreement that the children should search for the rooms once they returned to school.

--Break—

Harry and Hermione ended their school holiday with their parents, Sirius, and Remus. The plan had been to go into London with Sirius to see his house, and how he had gotten both a record player and a CD player to work successfully. In late morning, they would leave Harry and Hermione on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters for their return to Hogwarts. However, once Tim had mentioned His Majesty’s Voice, a well-known music store, Sirius insisted they must come with him to visit it (and help him with muggle money).

One day over their holiday, Harry went with Sirius and Remus to Diagon Alley. Harry had learned much about James and Lilly over a meal in a small private room at one of the restaurants. He felt guilty that his parents died to protect him, but Sirius and Remus assured him that they best way he could thank them and honour them was to live his life. He shared his idea of going to into healing and medicine someday, and both of his honorary uncles were surprised but pleased by this. By the time they took their leave from Diagon Alley, Harry understood why they had a private room at the restaurant. Wizards and witches were recognizing Harry more, and particularly because they noticed Sirius Black, who was once known as a murderer. His name had now been cleared, but it seemed as though not everyone knew!

Another day, Harry and Hermione spent a few hours with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Harry, after speaking with his Mind Healer about it, decided that perhaps he could go Number Four Privet Drive briefly to try to find some peace. After Petunia had picked them up from their house, she drove them to Privet Drive. Harry, once he felt he could speak without crying, showed Hermione his cupboard. Now it was a proper cupboard under the stairs. His old mattress was gone, too. He just stared inside, and then went into the kitchen where he used to do the cooking. Hermione remained, staring into the cupboard in stunned disbelief. This is where her brother and best friend had slept for almost ten years! And he nearly died here! Tears streamed down her face as her mind pictured Harry in this space.

“Dear, please come to the table for tea,” Aunt Petunia murmured in her ear. Hermione nodded quickly in agreement, swiping away at her tears. Petunia handed her a clean handkerchief. Hermione had never been so emotional until the past month, and she rather hoped it did not linger. She considered herself a strong young woman, and too much of this would not do.

“I am sorry, Mione, I did not mean to upset you,” Harry said with a shaky voice from his seat at the table. Being included willingly at the dining table was a momentous occasion, as well.

“I’ll be fine,” Hermione replied honestly. She would be, after a bit. “How are you?”,

“Alright. I won’t be showing you the back garden,” Harry said, suddenly turning quite pale. “This is as far as I can go in this house.”

“Harry, that’s fine,” Hermione said. She quietly finished crying and greeted Dudley as he sat at the table. Dudley looked even slimmer than he had at Christmas, she observed. He politely greeted them both as Petunia brought in a tray of food, followed shortly by the tea service.

“Is there anything else you would like to do this afternoon, Harry?” Aunt Petunia asked after they were all served. She noticed that Harry seemed to be picking at his food. Harry glanced up at this, and a small smile spread to his lips, and almost to his eyes.

“Yeah, Aunt Petunia. I’d like to take Hermione to the play park,” he said. “I liked the swings, most of all.”

“Oh, yes, we can all go! Can both of you walk to the park?” Petunia asked. Hermione and Harry nodded in the affirmative.

So plans were made, and they continued to chat, Harry becoming visibly more at ease, although both Petunia and Hermione saw he acted jumpy sometimes. Harry admitted later that he kept expecting to see and hear Uncle Vernon, just around the corner.

-Break-

On the Hogwarts Express (except Harry agreed with Hermione that if it were really ‘express’, then it would be modelled after the London Underground trains, and not a steam engine from another century), Neville was happy, and practically threw himself at Harry.

“I did it! I spoke with Grandmother, and she said that your mum can send her an owl with an invitation. She would like to talk to your mum, but most likely she will let me visit in summer!”

“I get to visit, too, mate!” Ron said as he dashed into their compartment last minute as the train began moving.

“Awesome!” Harry exclaimed. He had heard the word in a movie they had watched over the holiday, and rather loved it.

“I agree with Harry,” Hermione said. “Neville, congratulations on overcoming your fear of your grandmother!”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Neville said, blushing a bit. He was rather proud of himself.

“Now, I think we should get to business now,” Hermione said, becoming the strong young woman she was. She raised her wand and put silencing charm on their compartment. “This is so no one will eavesdrop, of course. We know where the last Horcrux likely is located, and I think I know what it must be.”

Chapter Text

“Let’s find the room first,” Hermione said in her take charge way, as the children met very early the next morning near where the Room of Requirement door should be located. Harry and Ron had gotten up somewhat reluctantly this morning, willing to wait until a bit later. However, they had agreed early morning was the ideal time because it had been discovered that Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, slept in most mornings, being so tired from patrolling the halls of Hogwarts most nights. Neville had roused them quietly, to not wake Dean and Seamus. Hermione and Draco had roused themselves.

Hermione directed Harry, based on the directions from Remus, and on his third attempt a door opened.

He peaked in cautiously. The Room of Requirement was the Room of Lost Things! It was exactly what they needed to find. He waved the others in. After several gasps, they began to roam through the large space. There were old things, and lost things. Most likely old lost things, Harry was sure. Neville found his Remembrall near the door, which he had last seen before Christmas. He thought his memory was improving anyway, although he put it in a pocket of his robes. Hermione found piles of all sorts of books.

“Look, Harry! Look at all these books. After this, we’ve got to get back into this room, just to look over the books! This is incredible!”

“Look at all the Quidditch stuff,” Ron said, his mouth hanging open, staring into a far corner of the room in disbelief. “How do you lose Quidditch stuff?”

“There are potions here,” Draco said as he was drawn to an old cabinet. “They look old. Do not touch them. They’re most likely unstable.” He looked very satisfied with his finds even as he issued the warning.

Meanwhile, Harry seemed to be the only one searching for Ravenclaw’s diadem.

“Guys, come on then. We need to find the Horcrux, then we can look at everything else!” Harry called out, trying to get them all going. They all looked over at him and nodded, and they began looking carefully in earnest, trying not to disturb things too badly. Hermione knew a spell for clearing away dust, so she made the dust disappear as she searched. Harry was pleased as too much dust seemed to set off his asthma.

They all knew what they were on the hunt for, as Hermione had found a picture of a diadem in a book, but no one had seen Ravenclaw’s diadem in many, many years. It was rumoured to no longer exist. However, Harry agreed that it must be the diadem as Slytherin’s locket was one of the Horcruxes as was Hufflepuff’s cup (one that Dumbledore had recently retrieved, although he would not say where he found it.) The Sword of Gryffindor would be used to destroy the remainder of the Horcruxes. It made logical sense for the diadem to be the final Horcrux.

It was Neville who found the diadem, more than an hour later. He had been poking around in a small nook where there were lost plants. He liked herbology the most of his classes, and these were very sad-looking plants. Neville suspected they were muggle in nature but charmed to remain green and alive many years before. If the charm were to be lifted, they would crumble to dust. As he touched the leaves of one plant carefully, he noticed something shiny catch his eye from below the leaves.

“I think this is it!” he shouted to the rest of the room. The others picked their way through the cluttered room to join him with the odd plants that none of them, not even Harry or Hermione, could name. There, they all saw the mildly shiny diadem.

“Great job, mate,” Harry murmured to Neville, and Neville grinned because now he really felt a part of the group. The five friends looked warily at each other after that, wondering what to do next.

“I have my dragon skin gloves,” Draco finally announced, pulling them from a pocket in his robes. He put them on and lifted the diadem from around the base of the plant.

“I have a sack,” Hermione said, shocking Harry when she pulled the charmed item from her robes. When had she had time to procure one of these? She held it open and allowed Draco to drop it inside. She closed the sack immediately as soon as it had hit the bottom.

“What do we do now?” Ron asked rather nervously. “Look at the old Quidditch stuff?”

“I think we take it to Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape,” Harry said, feeling anxious in a way he had not felt in some time.

“Of course,” Draco said, removing his gloves, folding them gently, and pushing them back in his robe pocket.

“We’ll try to get in again sometime, Ron, so we can all look at our favourite things,” Hermione said and patted his hand with the hand that was not holding the charmed sack at arm’s length away from them.

“I want to try to bring these plants back to life, after I identify them,” Neville said.

“I’ll go out first,” Draco said. “I need to keep up my cover for a bit longer.” They nodded in understanding and watched their friend exit the room. After a few more minutes, the four of them slowly left the room behind, hoping that they would be able to enter it again soon.

Harry hoped Minerva would be in her office when they arrived. It was still so early it was not even time for breakfast yet, but he wanted all the anxiety about this to be eliminated as soon as possible. It was so close!

He would just have to get through the destruction of the Horcruxes.

____________________

Where would they do this that was safe from the rest of the school?

After they had gathered in Professor McGonagall’s office, sans Draco, Professor Snape had been summoned. He agreed, too, that the diadem was indeed a Horcrux. The discussion turned to the ideal location for the destruction of the Horcruxes. Both professors had ideas about where this should be done that they had discussed with Dumbledore, and they seemed good ideas, Hermione agreed, but she had a different idea.

“Since we can get into the Room of Requirement, let’s try to access a room that will be safe and protected, and will have everything we might need for the destruction,” she stated, calm and reasonable in her manner. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading, of course, and last evening I read about what is and is not able to be done in the Room of Requirement. I believe we can make it what we require.”

“Well, it would be the safest location inside of Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said, agreeing readily with the child. The locations they had been debating had been located outside Hogwarts, but there was always danger of discovery.

“I would prefer to stay inside Hogwarts myself,” Harry said, the anxiety that had been building up inside now making him tremble slightly. “It’s safer in here,” he whispered. He sat limply in a chair near the desk. His friends gathered around him, giving some words of assurance.

Professor Snape looked at the group, noticing Draco’s absence, and assumed Draco was at breakfast protecting his cover. It would seem the Gryffindor students needed breakfast as well, as Ron’s stomach rumbled. Snape looked at Professor McGonagall, and she called through the Floo to the kitchens to send up breakfast for them all.

“I will agree that if one of you can get the Room to open an appropriate space,” Snape said, “then it will be the ideal location. I am quite sure Professor Dumbledore will agree. This begs the question, then, about when we shall carry this out.”

Before anyone could answer, a large platter of food appeared on Professor McGonagall’s small tea table. The table was just large enough to hold the platter.

Ron and Neville prepared plates for themselves, and Hermione decided, glancing at Harry, that she ought to fix a small plate for Harry. He would eat if she told him to eat, but he was more anxious than she had seen him since last summer. So, she placed a bit of scrambled eggs, a piece of toast, grapes, and a chocolate scone for a treat, on his plate, and handed it to him with a napkin and utensils. He looked up at her and asked silently if he had to eat. She nodded in the affirmative, and then went to get herself some food so she could sit down for a moment.

“I want Mum to be here,” Harry said after a few bites and a swig of pumpkin juice. “Let’s check with her schedule.”

“It needs to be a time that Professors Snape and Dumbledore and myself are available as well. I suggest Saturday morning,” Professor McGonagall said. She took a quick look at Harry, to see what he thought of the idea of waiting and getting prepared. As she expected, he did not quite like the idea, and then he remembered that Sirius might like to be here for this.

“I don’t think I can wait much longer,” Harry said, placing his half-eaten plate of food on the desk. “Professor, couldn’t we do this sooner? Today or tomorrow?” The act of killing the Horcruxes was making him feel very uneasy, and extremely anxious, even though he understood why it needed to be done. He even felt he understood why he himself must do it, and it was no joke. He must rid the world of Voldemort once and for all, and he had help from his friends and from the professors. Minerva had told them some months ago that the adults should truly be taking care of this, but apparently, according to Snape, it would be the easiest and most effective if Harry destroyed them. Dumbledore seemed to support this based on the prophecy. Harry had hashed this out again with Hermione over their spring holiday. It all needed to be over so he – indeed, all of the wizarding community – would be safe again, and free to enjoy the remainder of his very busy school years ahead (busy, because after all, he was planning to learn all of the ‘muggle’ curriculum as well!)

“Can you ask Sirius to come, also?”

Professor McGonagall turned and leaned into her Floo to call their mum, to see if she was available to speak with them. She sent what she said was a Patronus out to Sirius, letting him know to floo to her office. She sent messages to Dumbledore and Draco, to let them know to come to her office as soon as breakfast in the Great Hall was over.

Snape sighed and took a seat after helping himself to more scrambled eggs, secretly one of his favourite foods. He supposed he could cancel his morning classes if need be, he thought, eyes on Harry. Harry was shaking, nearly imperceptibly, but he saw it clearly.

“Mr. Potter, I have a Calming Draught,” he said as he pulled it from one of his robe pockets. He often kept his pockets stocked, just in the case a student needed such help. “It will help immensely.”

Harry, knowing that Professor Snape would never give him something bad, drank it immediately, almost spilling it over himself with the tremors in his hands. He felt it circulate through his body, and two minutes later he was much calmer, and could hold his hands still. In fact, he felt he could eat again, so he picked up his plate and utensils.

Hermione watched all this while Ron ate a second helping and groaned. Neville glanced nervously at Ron for having the audacity to do this in front of the teachers, but Ron grinned back at him, and looked at Professor Snape, and said,

“I apologize for my rudeness, sir.”

“Apology accepted, Mr. Weasley” Snape said. “Although, after this is over, I believe I will have you and Mr. Longbottom come to me for tutoring once a week. You are both improving, but you could still use some assistance.”

“You’ll help us, sir?” Neville asked in disbelief. He had honestly thought Professor Snape would never like him or offer to help him.

“Mr. Longbottom, Professor Sprout tells me you are an excellent student in Herbology and learning Potions well will only help you improve your skills. Of course, neither of you will be permitted to share what we do together. You will say that you had to scrub cauldrons, naturally.”

“Yes, sir,” Neville said.

“Naturally, sir,” Ron said with a grin.

“Your mum is coming through,” Professor McGonagall finally said, backing out of the Floo. A moment later, Taraneh was there and hugging Harry and Hermione. Snape wanted to groan now, but he held his council, acknowledging that he was a little bit envious of Harry, because he himself never got a chance with a second mother.

Harry was so incredibly happy to see his mum. He had just seen her yesterday morning before their trip back to Hogwarts on the train, but it suddenly felt like ages ago. This helped to calm him down even more. He was suddenly feeling rather more confident about the destruction of the Horcruxes.

“Are we doing this now?” he asked her. She glanced at the professors and nodded.

“I don’t need to be at hospital until mid-afternoon, and if the professors have the time, then yes. Joon, I know you want to complete this task,” Taraneh said softly in his ear. “And I’d rather not need to worry about you, your sister, and your friends quite so much anymore. I want you to feel safe. Eeman, coochooloo.”

“Eeman-i,” Harry murmured.

The floo flared to life again, and Sirius stepped out. He looked very serious, as the occasion called for. His long hair was neatly pulled back this time, Harry noticed. The previous week, it had been wild.

“Hello, everyone! Harry, Taraneh, Hermione, seems like I just saw you! And these must be your friends?” Harry introduced his friends. Sirius shook hands solemnly with Ron, told Neville that he met him when he was a baby, and stared at Draco when he arrived.

“You’re my little cousin,” Sirius stated. “Harry told me that he knew you.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black,” Draco said, drawing on his upbringing. He held out a hand, which Sirius took and shook heartily.

“Call me Sirius, Cousin Draco. You are going against your father, and indeed, against most of the Black family as well. I applaud your efforts. We’ll get to know each other later,” Sirius said.

As he finished speaking, the office door opened to admit Professor Dumbledore.

“Mum? Have you met Professor Dumbledore yet?” Hermione asked, glancing at her mother.

“No, I have not, even though I have been coming into and out of this office for months! I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Professor, although you are someone Harry is still not particularly fond of, as you got him into the Dursley situation, sir.”

“I sincerely regret that now, my dear lady. At the time, I did think it was the correct thing to do,” Dumbledore said, rather taken aback. Minerva tried to hide a smile.

“While I do question your judgement, sir, I also feel it is in Harry’s best interest to end this this matter today so he, and we, can all move on,” Taraneh said. Everyone in the room, Dumbledore excepted, wanted to cheer her on. Instead they all looked to Dumbledore for his agreement, which he reluctantly gave. He had tried to use Legilimency on her, which she had blocked quite naturally, unaware she had done so.

“Please allow Severus and I rearrange our morning schedules,” Minerva said. (Somehow, she had become Minerva again, Harry realized suddenly.)

“No need. I already announced your classes as cancelled this morning in the Great Hall,” Dumbledore said. “Severus, please accompany me to my office to collect the other items.” Snape nodded.

“Well.” Minerva looked at Harry, who sat on the edge of his seat, flanked by Taraneh and Sirius. “Are we all ready to go to the Room of Requirement?” They all looked at each other with wide eyes, and stood up, ready to follow their professor.

___Break___

Thirty minutes later, the ten participants were gathered in a relatively sparse room, although the walls looked as if they were surrounded by forest. Minerva had tested the wards on the room the moment Harry had been able to open the door. She was quite impressed that her young student had been able to do such a thing, for the second time in the same morning! He had managed to require a room that would provide for safety for both they and the remainder of the castle. It was ideal. Harry was quite proud of himself, although he tucked those thoughts away for the time being. He needed to focus on what came next.

There was a small wooden chopping block sitting in the centre of the room. Apparently, that was what was required to destroy the objects with the sword and the venom. There was a table to the side of the room where Harry saw Dumbledore and Snape placing the items carefully on the table while wearing gloves. He wondered if he should wear gloves as well, and apparently looked concerned, because Draco brought his gloves over to Harry. Harry took them gratefully and placed them on his hands before eyeing the Sword of Gryffindor. Would he be able to lift the sword? Would his balance be enough?

He watched as Snape ever so carefully coated the tip of the sword with venom, which appeared to be slightly sticky in nature. Snape brought it to Harry and placed it in his hands. It was much lighter than Harry had imagined, but he also wondered if it was the Room of Requirement making it so, just for him.

Everyone else stood back as Dumbledore brought the first Horcrux to the chopping block. It was a ring. How am I to do this? Harry was slightly panicked, but then from the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione gesturing something. She was miming putting the sword tip straight down through the middle of the ring. Ah, maybe that would work!

He pulled up the sword by the handle, and drove the tip down to the wood, through the ring. There was a brief burning scent and a but of smoke as the venom burned and suddenly cracked the ring into pieces, allowing a small stone to fall out. A faint scream echoed in the room for a moment, and then silence.

Harry took a very deep breath. One was done; five more objects to go. He glanced over at Hermione and his friends, and they tried to give him some nervous reassurance.

“Mr. Potter, I believe you may keep that stone,” Professor Snape said, looking to Dumbledore for confirmation. “It’s safe to touch now.” Professor Dumbledore nodded with a slight smile. Harry picked it up and placed it in a pocket for safekeeping. He would ask Sirius about it later.

One by one, each item was placed on the chopping block. The book was by far the easiest to stab with venom blood, although the scream emitted was rather ear-piercing compared to a few of the others. Others seemed to go somewhat quietly. Between each item, Professor Snape stepped forward to brush additional venom onto the tip of the sword. Harry felt the calming presence of his family and friends, which helped him to keep as calm as possible.

Hufflepuff’s cup, its former location unknown and Dumbledore unwilling to share where he found it, was the final horcrux before the last piece of Voldemort that had been living in Quirrell’s body. Harry was exhausted now, and even though the sword felt light, the depth of what he was doing suddenly became heavy. Last year at this time, he was in a Muggle hospital with no idea what the future held. He’d had no reason to imagine this! And except for killing the Horcruxes and stopping the return of an evil wizard, this life was rather grand. It was certainly exciting!

He brought the sword down on in the centre of the cup, and the scream emitted caused Harry to drop the sword with a clatter. He clapped his hands to his ears as did everyone else in the room. It lasted a full ten seconds before Snape cast a silencing spell. They all panted with relief as they released their ears.

“Well,” Professor McGonagall said from beside Harry’s Mum and Sirius. Evidently, that was all she could say at moment. Sirius looked stunned, although there was no evidence of a stunning spell.

“Indeed,” Snape said and picked up the sword from Harry’s feet, added more venom and passed it to Harry. Dumbledore removed the shattered remains of the cup. Harry looked at the other children, his friends, rather afraid. If the cup screamed that badly, would the piece of Voldemort’s soul that had so recently ‘lived’ scream even louder? Hermione seemed to know what he was thinking, and nodded her head in agreement, that it would be even louder.

“Excuse me, professors, but may we have a volume buffering spell first? Just in precaution?” Hermione pleaded.

“Oh, yes, my dear,” Dumbledore mumbled, and cast a charm silently.

Harry was impressed because it now felt and sounded like he was surrounded by fog, but the room remained a clear forest. Focusing on his task at hand, he raised the sword to destroy the last portion of Voldemort’s soul.

His arms trembled a bit, but he felt steady otherwise. He took in a deep breath, held it a moment, and then brought the sword down as hard and quick as he possibly could, this last time. He, and their magical world, would be free from Voldemort’s terror.

Dark wispy smoke spiralled away as a glass-breaking scream rattled the room and its occupants. Fortunately for them all, the charm made the sound dwindle to faint within a second. They all listened until it was gone and there was simply silence.

Harry felt his legs (even his prosthetic leg) turning into jelly, and then his mum’s arms were around him.

“Let’s take you to hospital wing, Harry joon,” she crooned. Hermione was trying to hug him, and the other three boys were congratulating him. Sirius still looked Stunned. Snape wandered over to stand by him half in anger, and half in amusement.

“It’s over,” he sneered while he covertly scanned Sirius for any stunning spells. As he finished, Sirius shook himself.

“Yeah?” Sirius asked. He shook his head again. “It’s really all over? Finally?” He stared at Snape in disbelief and then reached out and hugged Snape across the shoulders. Snape now felt stunned as well. Sirius, his old bully, was hugging him.

“Thank you for helping Harry, and I’m sorry for bullying you,” Sirius said gruffly, gratefully, quickly, and let Snape go. They both smoothed their robes and then shook hands briefly. Snape would accept this apology for now, long overdue from their own school years.

Professor Dumbledore walked over to Professor McGonagall and gave her a welcome hug.

“Well, Minerva, thank you for helping me to see other ways to solve this task without going to war again,” Dumbledore said. “Thanks to you, as well, Severus, for your help. Children, I award fifty house points to each of you, and Harry, for your bravery and accuracy with the Sword, I award you 100 points. Severus, will you please show us your Dark Mark?”

Snape glared at Dumbledore as if asking ‘must I?’ Dumbledore chuckled.

“Of course. I would like to see if my theory has proven correct,” Dumbledore said. Everyone except Harry and Taraneh turned to look at Snape, and with a little noise of irritation, he pulled up his robe sleeve.

The Dark Mark was faded, but not entirely gone. It was like a ghost of itself. Faint. Hardly visible. Dumbledore smile rather gleefully at Snape.

“I did not think this would ever happen,” Snape said, not sounding like himself at all, staring at his arm.

“I wonder if my father’s Mark has faded, too,” Draco said. Hermione, Ron, and Neville looked at him in disbelief.

“What? My father was a Death Eater, also. He doesn’t let his Mark show in polite company, but I’ve seen it. I never wanted to get one, so it is one reason I wanted to help destroy Voldemort for good. But my father can’t ever know.”

“We promise not to share, right, everyone?” Hermione touched Draco’s shoulder briefly to lend her support. Ron and Neville agreed, although Ron particularly was surprised because he thought Draco would want to take all the credit and fame, despite having gotten to know Draco better over the term.

“As a matter of fact, I will place a charm on us all that we will remember what happened today, but we will find it very difficult to talk about the specifics to others beyond those of us in this room,” Dumbledore pronounced.

Harry had very little idea what was happening around him. He felt extremely tired and was already half-asleep. Much later, Hermione would share her memory with Harry of the handshakes and what Dumbledore said, as he had only a vague recollection of events until he awoke a few hours later in the hospital wing surrounded by his family, friends, and teachers. There was nothing specifically wrong with him, but the exhaustion from the morning’s events.

As no other patients occupied the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey was quite willing to allow a small lunch party to celebrate this success. The House Elves sent up Treacle Tart a la mode (with chocolate ice cream) just for Harry, in celebration, at Professor McGonagall’s request. The others found the combination entirely too sweet, although Ron did not dislike it. Harry just laughed, and then insisted that Snape try some of it so that he could finally begin working on effective pain potions that tasted good. Everyone laughed at Snape’s disgusted expression as the flavours together flowed over his tongue, and as he spit it out. Sirius fell to and rolled over the floor in laughter, and Harry joined him. Moments later, Ron, Draco, and Neville gave in and were rolling on the floor as well, each one giggling. This made Harry laugh harder, as he had not imagined that someone with Draco’s upbringing would giggle!

Hermione managed to look uncertain while all the time laughing, because it just was not sensible, and she had no idea why she was laughing, except that she felt relieved. Her mother nudged her shoulder and gave a look that gave her permission to join the boys on the floor. She slowly sat on the floor, and then Harry egged her on to try rolling, so she did. And it felt so good to feel silly for once.

Taraneh, Minerva, Madam Pomfrey, and Albus watched on in pure enjoyment, while Snape muttered words under his breath. When the other adults glanced at him, he finally could not hold it in any longer, and burst out with a snort of laughter, years overdue.

Harry noticed this and laughed in relief. It was over now. A year before he had been in hospital with no idea what his life might look like in the future, and now he had found out he was a wizard, gained more family and friends than he had ever thought possible, and helped defeat the evil wizard who had murdered his biological parents.

Life was close to perfect.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24 –Epilogue: Letters and Notes

01 May 1992

Dear Harry,

Like my new owl? His name is Bono, and he delivered my letter. Remus thinks I am mad for naming him that. Ah, whatever. I have tickets for the U2 concert, and we get to go with you! Do not ask me how. Feel free to talk to me about anything! Except that.

I look forward to coming to Hogwarts in two weeks for your next Quidditch match. See you soon!

Happy Mayday,
Sirius

02 May 1992

Dear Sirius,

Your new owl is great, but my Hedwig is better! Please feed her well before she flies back. She deserves it. Thanks.

I have not lost Gryffindor a match since I became Seeker, and I do not plan to lose this time. Gryffindor must win the Quidditch cup this year, and now that I have time to concentrate on things like Quidditch, I should get even better at it. I know you worried about my flying for a bit during Easter hols, but seriously, Sirius, I am well-protected. Minerva casts all sorts of charms to keep me safe. It is easier now that my leg listens to what I tell it. Last term was a bit rockier, but my adoptive parents approved, although I do not really know why because Quidditch is rather a dangerous sport. Hermione said that, but I do rather agree with her. However, I am not going to stop playing! I love flying too much.

See you at the match! Then we can look forward to the concert.

Harry

04 May 1992

To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Board of Governors,
from the office of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, do hereby tender my resignation as Headmaster of Hogwarts School effective 25 June 1992, to commence with my well-earned retirement. As agreed at the last Board of Governors' meeting, Minerva McGonagall shall immediately assume the role as Headmistress of Hogwarts.

I have been invited to remain a part of the school, as Headmaster Emeritus, a role I shall joyfully accept. This was also voted in the affirmative Monday last by the Board.

This shall begin a new and much needed era in the life of Hogwarts, and I do look forward to observing and supporting the upcoming changes.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

05 May 1992

Dear Mum and Dad,

Mum, how do you have the time to study and pass us up in Potions? Professor Snape said you have moved into second year studies already. I think he is quite proud that you are not a "dunderhead." I reckon I should be proud of you, too, because now I realize that you have already finished school and went to medical school. You took chemistry classes! They are rather alike, and I should have seen this before.

Do you know that Professor Dumbledore is retiring next month? Minerva will become the new Headmistress and I am to assist her with coming up with ideas to improve our education here at Hogwarts. I am already making lists. You know how I like to write up lists. She said we will most likely NOT be able to do everything immediately, but we can work towards things over a few years. I want to propose an elevator of some sort so that Hogwarts is more accessible, better Muggle studies, and some that teach subjects we would have at muggle schools, like maths and writing. I think Wizarding studies and customs would be very useful, too, for some of us. Generally, I like to follow the rules, and it would be nice to know more of the rules and customs better than I have already read about.

I am so happy the whole Horcrux search is over. Now we can get to work and properly study. I need to review everything for the exams!

Dad, I hope you do not feel left out of Hogwarts. Everything is so fascinating. Come with Sirius and Remus to Harry's Quidditch match but make it a surprise for Harry. What do you think?

Love,

Hermione

06 May 1992

Dear Hermione Darya joon,

Yes, Minerva sent me a note about it. I have agreed that you may assist with the reforms. If you need more ideas, let me know. Yes, I know I have passed you up with Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms. As you pointed out, I have already had my complete 'muggle' schooling, so I do think this makes me move faster. I know, bachejoon, that you are self-driven at a young age, but I was not so self-driven when it came to studying when I was your age. I had to learn how to study effectively as I grew up. I know now what works best for me, and it allows me to work faster. It is also a useful skill to have when you are almost forty years old and work in a full-time career. It is also perfectly acceptable to take a break every now and then.

Your dad will attend the Quidditch match with Sirius and Remus as he thinks it a wonderful idea. Unfortunately, I must work that day.

Love,

Mum

06 May 1992

Dearest Mione,

Yes, Sirius is agreeable to Apparating me to Hogwarts for the match. He said it might make me feel sick. I want to try this anyhow, because perhaps your mother will learn to Apparate someday. Shall we sit with you in the stands? Sirius said he and Remus were both in Gryffindor as well. Sirius will provide me with robes so that I will fit in. I like your mother's robes. She has some dark royal blue ones that look brilliant on her. Harry's Aunt Petunia says hello and will welcome you any time into her home. She will write a letter to Harry herself soon.

I do hope you both are brushing your teeth thoroughly!

Your old dad,

Dad

10 May 1992

Dear Hermione and Harry,

Guess what?

I am engaged to be married to Kian!

I cannot believe it. I thought I would always be single, but last night he took me to a very nice Italian restaurant, got down on one knee, and asked the question. I said yes, because we had already talked a bit about marriage, but until last autumn, I thought I would be single. I had not met anyone before that I had any desire to be with. I will show you my engagement ring when you are at home for the concert.

Perhaps someday you will have some little cousins. First, we will have the wedding, and perhaps I might be able to get Maman here for the occasion.

Your mum informed me that you both were involved in something in the magical world that, if it were to continue, would have led to war someday. However, the problems were solved, and now there should not be a war after all. I am happy for you that whatever it was is over and that you are fine. Harry, it appears that you have adjusted quite well to your 'new' life, and from what your mum said, you can really let go and live your life now. (Harry, you were my favourite hospital patient, besides you, Mione joon. Honestly. Not playing favourites!)

All the best,

Khaleh Tina

Ps- Perhaps I ought to have written this letter in Persian so you both can practice, assuming you have time in your busy schedules!

12 May 1992

Dear Hogwarts Students,

As Headmaster Dumbledore has announced, he will be stepping down as Headmaster of Hogwarts School, and assume the role of Professor Emeritus. As of 25 June 1992, I shall serve as your next Headmistress. As it will be the last day of term, I shall announce the name of my replacement for Deputy. There will be a well-vetted replacement teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts announced as well. As rumour has gone about for many years that the position was cursed, this is quite possible, but we feel that now some matters have been solved, this curse no long exists, if even it did previously.

Please both enjoy and study the remainder of the term. There remains time to earn points for your Houses.

Letters will also be owled to each family regarding this matter.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

15 May 1992

Mother,

How are you? I am well, and hope you are the same.

I write to inquire about staying with our cousin, Sirius Black, for a week perhaps over summer holidays. We need not worry about Father becoming a Death Eater again. Have you noticed his Mark has faded? Professor Snape's is nearly gone.

Sirius has written to me twice since I met him. He lives in the Black family home in London. He said he never got along well with his family, but he remembers some things fondly about you when he was very young. He is Harry Potter's godfather. He is trying to make up for lost time with Harry, but he has said he would like to get to know me, too. He will write you a letter.

I am friends with Harry. Father wanted me to befriend Harry to make some alliances later. However, I like being friends with Harry just for myself, and he is fun to be around. I am getting on with his other friends. Father has no reason to make alliances now. I cannot tell you more as I cannot speak or write any details, except that Voldemort is completely gone. There is no portion of him left to come around again.

Your son,

Draco

17 May 1992

Dad,

It was such a surprise to see you at the match! I am glad you are making friends with Sirius and Remus. You are handsome in robes, but I don't recommend you wear them to your office. I am also happy that you did not think my Quidditch position is too dangerous, even though yes, it is a rough game. We won!

See you again soon! It's nearly concert time!

Love,

Harry

18 May 1992

Dear Khaleh Tina,

Congratulations on your upcoming marriage. I would have written sooner, but I have been busy studying and reading ahead. I do have exams, soon. What kind of wedding will you have? Traditional English or Persian? Let me know this summer if you need any assistance from me. I so look forward to it.

We will see you both for the concert. Mum says we shall take the Underground as it will be easier than driving. The venue is not far from Royal Albert Hall, of course, but I have not been Earl Court before. Since the concert is on a Sunday, Mum and Minerva have given us permission to miss classes the following morning. I suppose I shall be tired, but I do so hate to miss out on class. Harry says we'll be alright, but I am not quite sure. He is correct, though, we are both ahead on our magical studies, and we will make up the classwork. It just worries me a bit.

See you soon,

Hermione

PS: Harry says congratulations, and that he will always be your favourite patient. He is very cheeky, you know. I will always be your favourite niece.

18 May 1992

My dearest Draco,

I am well. Thank you for asking. I do hope you are keeping up with your studies.

To answer your question, yes, your father's Mark is nearly invisible now. Your father has noticed this, and I expected him to be angry over it. He was always so committed to Voldemort, and I had to stand behind him in support. As you may already be aware, personally, I never did support Voldemort. However, your father is changing. It is like a spell is wearing off, and perhaps it is. I never did get a solid answer about what the dark lord did to your father all those years ago. I think it may have been a long lasting Imperious, but perhaps we shall never know.

To shorten the story, you father is open to the idea of getting back in touch with my side of the family. We will meet with Sirius soon, if he is willing, and then make our decision about you making a visit. I will also get in touch with touch with my sisters. I assume your Aunt Bellatrix will remain in Azkaban. I have heard that she is wailing because her Mark is faded, and that she was really in love with the dark lord and not her husband. I will speak to her briefly, if afforded the opportunity, if only for closure.

Your Aunt Andromeda, well, that will take some time, perhaps, to make up with her. She was excluded from the Black family for marrying a muggle-born wizard. However, most of the Black ancestors are now deceased, and Sirius was never for pureblood status. I do hope we can make up with one another.

Love,

Mother

25 May 1992

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Sirius and Remus,

I write to you both in this letter as I am aware that Remus is living in your home now, Sirius. I have a proposal for you both to take into consideration. However, nothing will become official until I am formally in the Headmistress position.

Hogwarts needs a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, as I am sure you know by now. I would like to offer it to both of you, and I can help you figure out how you may wish how to teach the classes together as ultimately, it would be best for the students to have two instructors. There are some changes to the curriculum that I wish to make this summer, but we will have time to discuss this further.

I will also be searching for a History professor (just imagine, Binns has made a deal with Albus that he will 'retire' and move on when Albus retires officially) and a Transfiguration master so that I may stay with my Headmistress duties. As I recall, neither of you were particularly skilled at Transfiguration. If you know of any likely candidates, please send them my way.

Ms. Granger is the responsible young student who recommended you both for the new team Defence positions. She is quite impressed with you both.

Please do let me know your thoughts on this matter.

Sincerely,

Minerva

26 May 1992

Minerva,

I have every intention on taking you up on your offer. I need to get out of Grimmauld Place already! (My mother died only last year, but her portrait is unbearable.)

I assume we will have rooms at Hogwarts. I will bring my muggle stereo equipment, and I will trust you to do what you must so that it will work within Hogwarts. Remus will write himself, but his worry is about his transformations. Will this be an issue? I will naturally cover for him with classes during those times.

I may start a club, with your permission. A music appreciation club of sorts, I think. Harry would enjoy it.

Does this mean I may call you Minnie, now that I will be on your staff?

Your favourite old student,

Sirius

26 May 1992

Sirius,

Thank you for your reply. I shall be in touch further during summer.

I shall think on the club idea. I do intend to start more clubs that will interest the students.

No, you may not call me Minnie, Sirius Black! Minerva will do as it is what the other teachers call me.

To clarify, you were one of my favourite old students.

- Minerva

26 May 1992

Dear Minerva,

I will accept your offer as a Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. It is a position I feel I will excel in. However, if you do not find a History professor in time, I could fill in there. I would most likely make it more interesting than Binns, but DADA is closer to my passion. It will be nice to teach it with Sirius because he can cover for me. Perhaps we will work this into the lesson plans. Thank Hermione for me if you will. I have been most impressed by her thus far.

- Remus

Ps: I assume I am much less silly in this note than Sirius was in his. That is why we must work together. I will not presume to call you Minnie.

29 May 1992
Dear Hermione and Harry,

I will be in Minerva's office tomorrow morning at 10 am to take you through to home. Your father can barely concentrate at work today and sounded as if he were about to pop when he rang earlier. I have my normal work schedule today, but I am not on call tonight, and then I have three days off!

Boos,

Mum

01 June 1992

Dad -

Thank you! That was the best concert ever! Even though it is the only one like it I have ever been to, but I will always compare future concerts to this one. I still cannot believe they played all my favourite songs of theirs, not just the new album! I must hurry to class but, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Harry

(14 June 1992)
Harry, I saw you and the boys just fooling around in the Common Room. Exams, Harry. You should all join me and study. -Hermione

(14 June 1992)
Hermione, we are all studied out. Draco even came to hang about for a bit. We know our material, even Ron and Neville since they have had help with Potions. We are taking a break. Join us, Hermione. – Harry

(14 June 1992)
All right, I will join you although you sound like a character in a book or film who is up to no good.
- Mione

30 June 1992
Harry and Hermione, just one month until I can go to your house! I am very happy because Grandmother has never allowed me to do anything like this before. Will your mother go over Potions with me, and teach me some chemistry? Do electronics still work in your house? Do you think I will like Persian food? The house elves at home do not make very interesting food. Perhaps we can try pizza? Thank you for the invitation. I will arrive after Grandmother and I have my birthday meal together since my birthday is the day before yours, Harry. – Neville

01 July 1992
Neville, you asked several questions and I will attempt to answer them all. Our mum would love to work on Potions and chemistry with you. Electronics do work, so far. We will watch a few films while you're here. We'll have pizza, for sure. Sometimes I wish the elves at Hogwarts would make it. Let's get Hermione to mention it to McGonagall! Hermione is busy corresponding about ideas to bring Hogwarts up to date. She will have to take a break from it when we go to America in a week and a half. Persian food is excellent, and I do think you will like it. As for our birthdays, don't worry! We will celebrate together. I don't remember if you like chocolate cake or not, but please do let me know. See you soon! - Harry

04 July 1992
Harry, did I ever tell you my family had a pet rat? He seemed old so I did not bring him to school. Mum took care of him while I was at school. He died around the same time we found and destroyed the Horcruxes. Tell Hermione because she will think it is interesting. See you in a few weeks! I need to find out all about muggle things because Dad loves muggle objects. You should meet my parents. They will love you. Neville wrote and said you assured him that he would like the food at your home. You know how much I like food, so I can't wait!
-Ron

14 July 1992

Dear Sirius and Remus,

I am writing to you from Chicago. You should visit the States! It is fascinating to see another city in another country. There are five Great Lakes in North America, and Lake Michigan is quite large. It is beautiful. It stormed last evening before dark, and I saw a double-rainbow over the lake! It was amazing. Hermione took a picture so we can show you.

We are staying in the hotel near Mum's conference location. There is a pool, and Dad is attempting to teach me to swim. My arms are still quite strong, it seems, so I can pull myself through the water. I worried about drowning without my leg on, but I have discovered that I can float, too. Have you ever learned to swim?

Not far from the hotel there is a park near the lakeshore, and the fountain is Buckingham Fountain. We have the castle in England, but here they have a large fountain. Hermione was excited to see it, as she had read about it in the guidebook. We will visit Sears Tower and go up to the top when Mum is not busy with the conference. It is one of the tallest buildings in the world.

We are mostly doing things the muggle way here. Hermione and I are permitted to do small amounts of magic. Dad just laughs when we try to make the traffic lights change just by touching our wands in our pockets. I got it to work once, I think, when it took a long time for the crossing sign to change for us.

Mum wants to try a Persian restaurant here, to see if it is any different. There is one named Reza's on the north side of Chicago. We are in downtown Chicago at the hotel, which is quite posh. We will take the train or a bus. We do not know if Chicago has a magical alley or not, however. Mum thinks we should take a break from most magic and just enjoy being in a new place. I think it would be nice if we could floo to the restaurant or something. Mum got tickets to a musical later in the week. It is for The Secret Garden. Mione and I have book read the book. Mione has the soundtrack. I think we will enjoy it.

Hermione is working out what we should go see tomorrow while Mum is busy. She wants to visit the public library here to see what it is like. She also thinks we ought to go to the art museum, and to the shopping area on Michigan Avenue (everything is named Michigan here, but that is the state on the other side of the lake, and this state is Illinois. The S is silent.) I would like to visit FAO Schwartz. It is a large toy store. Dad and I both want to go to a music store. He has also promised that we can try Chicago pizza. Ron would love that!

I hope my letter was not too long. It is so much fun to get to travel to a new place. I never thought I would get such a chance!

Your godson,
Harry

PS: Is Draco staying with you yet? I do not remember because I am still a bit jet-lagged from the plane. Mum does not know any spells that could help. Are there any? Make sure Draco comes to my birthday party. He was not certain if he could come. Thanks – H.