Content Harry Potter
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Author Notes:

I mention London Lions t-shirts below - if you'd like a London Lions shirt of your own, go here and order one (or more!). Since I invented the Lions and their logo, and neither Quidditch nor Harry Potter are mentioned anywhere on the shirts, I'm not infringing on JKR's copyrights with these shirts. Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my fab betas, Blakeavich, Starfox, Iris and Asad!

 


Five Years After Harry Graduates from Hogwarts

Harry Potter strolled down a busy street in London, looking in the shop windows for something special for Ginny, his wife of four years. The present wasn’t for any particular occasion — he just wanted to get her something. It was always such fun to surprise her with pretty things. He wanted something unusual — he wasn’t certain what, but it had to be completely wonderful. He’d already searched Diagon Alley and was now checking the Muggle shops. If he didn’t find something soon, he’d Apparate to Hogsmeade and visit Tony Joyero again, but he really wanted something different. But what?

As he passed a shop’s doorway, a woman bustled out, bumping into him and dropping her packages.

"Oh, I’m sorry," Harry said, bending down to help her pick up her purchases. As he handed them to her, their eyes locked. Their faces bore equally shocked expressions.

"Harry? Is it really you?" Aunt Petunia breathed. "It is you, isn’t it? You look wonderful! How are you?" They hadn’t seen each other since Harry had left Number 4 Privet Drive for the last time six years ago.

Taken aback by her seeming friendliness, Harry hesitated before answering. "Um . . . I’m fine, thanks." He handed her the rest of her packages and straightened up, studying her face uneasily.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"Shopping," he said with a shrug.

"I thought you might have moved to Scotland for some reason," Petunia said, shaking her head with a rueful smile. "Do you live near here?"

"In London, yes. I work here," he said, beginning to relax a little. He didn’t know why she was being so friendly, but he wasn’t going to be the one to cause a problem.

"Do you have a few minutes? Can we go for a coffee and have a chat?" Petunia said, glancing around. "There’s a little coffee shop over there."

"Yeah, I eat there every so often," Harry replied. "Yes, we can get a coffee. I have a bit of free time."

"Wonderful!" Petunia enthused.

They crossed the street chatting casually about the weather. When they got to the shop, Harry led Petunia to a booth in the back and sat with his back to the wall, scanning the other patrons of the shop briefly before relaxing.

Petunia noticed what he was doing. "Are you still in danger? I thought you finished off that Voldie-whatsit years ago. Didn’t you?"

"Yes, I did, but I’ve never stopped being careful. There are still dangerous people in the world. How do you know about Voldemort?" he asked curiously.

"I saw wizards in the streets dancing and cheering when I was out shopping one day. When I noticed them, I asked one of them what was going on. He told me Harry Potter had killed the Dark Lord and they were out of danger now, so they were celebrating. I asked him if you were all right and he said you were in the hospital, but we were interrupted and before I could find out how you were. And of course, I had no way to contact anyone in your world, either. A few weeks later, I saw a family standing and staring at our house. I asked them what they were doing. They told me they’d heard this was the house where Harry Potter grew up, and they wanted to show their children that heroes can come from the most humble beginnings, even a Muggle house." She shook her head and chuckled a bit. "I didn’t know quite what to say to that. I asked if you were out of the hospital, and they gave me a copy of your newspaper. It had a long story telling about the battle, your injuries, and saying you’d recently been released from the hospital and were expected to make a full recovery. It praised you to the skies, Harry. I was so proud of you."

Harry was stunned. "You were? Why?"

"Because you did what nobody else could do. You rid the world of that monster. The copy of the paper they gave me listed all the atrocities he’d done over the years. He was a horrible man, wasn’t he?"

A pained expression flashed across Harry’s face, gone as almost as quickly as it appeared. "Yeah," Harry said darkly.

The waitress appeared, smiling warmly at Harry. "Hiya, handsome! The usual?"

"Yeah, black coffee.  Thanks, Marie," Harry said, smiling at her.

"Scone? Biscuit? Toast?" she prompted.

"Just coffee for me. What would you like, Aunt Petunia?" he said politely, a bit annoyed that the waitress was fawning on him and ignoring his aunt.

"Oh, this is your auntie?" Marie said, smiling at Petunia. "Are there any more like him at home? He’s a peach, he is!"

"Um," Petunia said uncertainly.

"Marie, we only have a little while to chat," Harry prompted her.

"Oh, right, ducks! What’ll you have, missus?"

"Coffee will be fine, thank you," Petunia replied. She watched the waitress as the woman’s attention turned back to Harry. Was this a witch who admired Harry because he was a famous hero? Or did Harry have this effect on Muggle women too? He was certainly a handsome young man despite that awful scar. As he gestured while speaking, Petunia noticed something odd about his hand. She waited for the server to leave before asking about it.

"What happened to your hand? It looks burned," she said, nodding toward his right hand.

"That’s a Glamour to hide what’s really there. I try to make it look normal when I’m among Muggles, but they resist the Glamour Charm to the point where my palm looks red," he said with a shrug.

"They? Who? Muggles? Sorry, you’ve lost me," she said in confusion.

He glanced around the shop, then slid his hand toward his aunt, waved it briefly and let it rest palm up for a moment so she could see the griffins and phoenixes branded there. "Them."

Petunia gasped, then swallowed hard. "Is that . . . a tattoo or something?"

"No," he murmured, replacing the Glamour Charm and folding his hands together on the table. "There are griffins and phoenixes carved on my wand’s handle. They branded me when I was doing the spell that destroyed Voldemort."

"It looks painful," she said sympathetically.

"It was for a while. It only bothers me now if I use my full power for something, and I rarely have to do that," he said casually.

"Full power?"

"Think of . . . um . . . a weight lifter picking up the heaviest barbells he can. He has to use his full strength to move them, right?" She nodded. "But in the course of his normal life, he rarely needs to use such strength. The same is true for me. I rarely need to use my full power. When I do, I feel the animals on the wand handle kind of dancing in my palm, and the ones in my palm will vibrate in response to that. It’s a weird feeling, but it doesn’t hurt. I’m used to it now. And when they do that, they give me even more power. These animals are talismans for me, that’s why the wandmaker put them on the handle. Nobody knows why they dance in my hand, or why they branded me."

"Oh," she said, not quite understanding everything he’d said, but grateful that he’d tried to answer her question. She decided to get on more comfortable conversational ground.    She noticed the gold ring on his left hand.  "Are you married now?"

"Yes, I married Ginny Weasley," he said, his face softening in a smile at the mention of her name. "We’ve been married four years now."

"The little redhead?" He nodded. "You look very happy, Harry. I’m glad."

"Thank you," he said. Deciding he might as well be polite since she was trying so hard to be sociable, he asked, "How’ve you been?"

"Oh, I’m fine, just fine," she replied with a smile.

"Here you go, ducks," the waitress said, setting their coffee down carefully. "I brought you a plate of scones, as well. My treat."

"Marie, you didn’t have to do that," Harry began.

"How many handsome young men bring their aunties to a coffee shop?" she said reasonably. "I’m impressed! And I’m hoping you’ll find a brother or cousin or something somewhere to send my way if I’m nice enough to you."

Harry laughed. "Sorry, there’s only me, and all my brothers-in-law are married now. But thanks."

"No worries, ducks. I’m just glad you come in here to brighten my day from time to time," she said, waving breezily as she walked away.

"I suppose you could offer her Dudley," Harry said, grinning at his aunt.

"He’s not her type, if she likes you," Petunia said, sighing. The waitress was pretty and sweet and simply not the kind of girl who interested Dudley.

They were silent for a few moments, then Harry decided he should do the polite thing. "How is Dudley?"

"He’s fine. Working at Grunnings, you know," Petunia said with obvious pride.

"That’s nice. Is he married yet? I suppose I should have asked before suggesting he might suit Marie," he said with a self-deprecating smile

"Oh, no, he’s not married," Petunia replied. "Still living at home."

"Ah," Harry said, not knowing what else there was to say about Dudley. "And Uncle Vernon?" he asked cautiously.

"He’s . . . he’s changed since you talked to him in the hospital, Harry." She glanced around a bit, then leaned toward him and whispered, "Did you put a spell on him?"

"No! I didn’t do anything but talk to him. You were there, you saw—"

"But you’re a very powerful wizard," she whispered carefully. "I thought you could just, I don’t know, wave your hand or blink or something to cast a spell."

Harry snorted with laughter. "Well, sometimes waving my hand will work, but no, I don’t blink to cast spells. And I didn’t put any spells on Uncle Vernon. So he’s healthy now?"

"Fairly healthy, yes. He simply refuses to exercise, but he’s eating better."

"How has he changed?"

"He’s rarely angry. It’s just amazing," she said with a smile.

Harry snorted again. "That’s probably because I don’t live there anymore."

"No, it’s more than that. I can’t explain it, but he’s . . . he’s softer somehow. He doesn’t take things as badly as he used to." She sipped her coffee, then sat studying her hands a moment. "He saw that newspaper article about you."

Harry didn’t know what to say, so he just watched her, waiting for her to continue.

"He asked me if I’d heard from you, or if I’d heard how you were since the article was published. The paper was about a month or two old by then, you see. I’d put it in a drawer and he found it while looking for something."

"Why does he care how I am?" Harry said, not believing for a minute that Vernon Dursley had any interest in him other than making sure he stayed as far from Privet Drive as possible.

"He knows you saved his life, Harry. He was told repeatedly by the doctors that the condition of the arteries in his heart was remarkable, given the condition of the veins in the rest of his body. You did that, and he knows it. You did a miracle for someone you had no reason to care about. He had a lot of trouble accepting that at first, but he finally came to terms with it."

"Erm," Harry said intelligently. He didn’t know what to say next.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bringing up bad memories.  How have you been? What are you doing now? Where do you work? What does your wife do?" she said.

Harry sat and thought for a long moment. She seemed to be sincerely interested. What was the danger here? What could she do to him? Nothing, really. He took a deep breath and decided to do the polite thing and answer her questions. "Ginny’s a healer. That’s the same as a doctor," he said.

"Oh, like a doctor! Good for her," Petunia said warmly. "And you? What do you do?"

"I’m a professional Quidditch player, Seeker on the London Lions," he said, smiling a bit. "You remember the Quidditch game you saw at the Weasleys’? That kind of thing, only on a much bigger scale and much, much faster!" His eyes twinkled as he spoke about the job that gave him such joy.

"You really love it, don’t you?" Petunia said, tilting her head to study his face. "It shows."

"There’s nothing like flying!" He grinned for a moment, then blushed a bit, surprised at how unguarded he was being with his aunt. He looked at her pensively for a moment, wondering at the oddly normal conversation they were having.

"Have you been on this team since you left school?"

"Yes. I teach flying at Hogwarts, too. That’s just one day a week, but it’s great fun for me. I like teaching." He smiled, thinking of all the excited young faces that greeted him every Tuesday during the school term.

"Are you going to teach full time at some point?"

"I might. I really enjoy it. But I’ll probably be an Auror for a while first." Seeing her puzzled look, he explained, "I finished Auror School a few years ago. They’re Dark wizard catchers . . . erm, sort of like MI-5, I think."

"You’re a spy?" she said in surprise.

"No, not really. It’s more like a policeman who goes after the worst criminals, I guess you could say."

"How can you do that and play Quidditch?"

"I go on assignments for them in the off-season, but I won’t start as a full-time Auror until I stop playing Quidditch," he replied easily. "Most professional Quidditch players last about ten years or so, then move on to other careers."

"Why?"

"Injuries, or just slowing down from age," he replied. "Ron and I — Ron Weasley, remember my best friend? He’s Keeper on our team. He and I went to Auror School together, but we’re hoping to last ten to fifteen years on the team."

"Oh, that’s wonderful!" she said supportively. She didn’t understand everything he was talking about, but he sounded happy, and that pleased her. "So you’ll both be Aurors afterwards?"

"Maybe. Ron’s beginning to think he’d like to work for the Ministry in some other capacity, possibly in the Department of Magical Sports. Or he might like to coach a pro team. I might like to do that too, actually. I’m captain of the team now," he said with pride, "and he and I both were on the English National Team for the World Cup last season. We won — we beat France quite handily."

"Congratulations!" Petunia said, wishing she had more understanding of what he was talking about. "You look so different now," she mused.

"Different how?"

"Well, I honestly forgot about your beard, so I’m not used to it, of course, and I forgot about the grey stripes in it, as well. You look quite distinguished, actually, and I do like your hair long like that," she said. "The biggest difference is, you look . . . peaceful. Happy. Relaxed, I suppose. It’s nice to see you this way."

"I am happy. I love my wife, I love my work, and things are going well for me."

"I’m so glad. Do you live in that house you inherited?"

"We’ve been living there, but we’ll be moving soon. We’re building a house on the land I inherited from my parents. Ron and Hermione bought the land next door and are building there." He smiled, his eyes seeing a not-too-distant happy future. "Our kids can play together. We’re going to build a Quidditch pitch at the back of the property."

"Kids? You have children?" Petunia said in surprise.

"Ginny’s expecting twins," Harry said with obvious pride.

"Oh, Harry! Congratulations," Petunia said with a smile. "And your friends — do they have children yet?"

"Ron and Hermione already have a baby. He’ll be six months older than our twins."

Petunia studied the contented face across from her. "No wonder you look so happy."

"Yeah," he agreed with a blush.

"Harry?" Petunia said hesitantly after another long moment of silence.

"Yes?"

"Could I come to one of your games sometime? I enjoyed watching you and your friends play. A professional game would be quite exciting to see."

Harry studied her, suddenly suspicious. She wasn’t acting at all like the woman who’d tormented him for so long. "Why?"

Petunia was nonplussed. "Why what?"

"Why are you being so friendly? Why do you care what’s happened to me and my friends?" he asked, hating to be distrustful, but with their shared history, he didn’t know how else to behave.

"I learned a lot when you and your godfather and that woman stayed with us. She had a strange name, what was it?" she said, thinking hard.

"Tonks. She’s my godmother now. She married Remus. They have two children," Harry replied. "What kind of things did you learn?"

"Well, all the things she showed us about you, for one thing. And that your people do keep their word. As long as we behaved ourselves, none of you were any trouble at all, really. I didn’t think that at the time, of course, but thinking over it after you were gone, I realized what an idiot I was. I wish I’d been a better hostess. Of course you needed someone to look after you if you’d been hurt, and I don’t know anything about wizard medicine. And I suppose it’s only logical your government would send someone to protect you if they thought we were mistreating you. It took me a long time to sort that out, and you can imagine what a shock it was to me once I realized . . . well . . . ."

"That’s amazing, Aunt Petunia. What a turnaround," Harry said, impressed.

"Yes," she agreed, a bit uncomfortably.

Harry sat quietly, studying the woman across from him. His mother, from all he’d heard about her, was a very kind woman. What would she want him to do about her sister’s request? It didn’t take him long to work that out. "If you want to come to a game, you’re welcome. I’ll give you a pass to the family box. Those are the best seats in the stadium. The Weasley family is huge, so we have the largest box in the stadium as well. There’s always room for one more." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ticket. "Directions to the stadium are on the back. It’s just outside London, near Fulham, actually. Do you have a pen?"

"Yes," she said, reaching into her purse.

"Thanks. It would look funny for me to pull a quill and pot of ink out here," he said with a mischievous grin as he took the pen from her and began to write something on the ticket.

"Harry? Would you mind terribly if Vernon and Dudley came too?"

He sat back in shock. "Erm . . . would they want to?"

"I think so," she said hesitantly.

"They’d be surrounded by Weasleys. I don’t know if Uncle Vernon and Dudley would enjoy that or not," Harry said hesitantly, wondering if he could rein in his twin brothers-in-law and keep them from hexing both his uncle and cousin.

"If they’re as polite to Vernon and Dudley as they were to me before I acted so badly at their home," Petunia said carefully, "I think we’ll get along fine."

Harry tilted his head, studying her again. She truly seemed sincere. "Who are you and what have you done with my aunt?" he teased, a crooked grin on his face.

"Sorry?"

"Just kidding. If you want passes for them, too, I’ll be happy to give them to you. You should warn them that they’ll be surrounded by people who care about me — not just the Weasleys, but the fans — and they need to behave or they’ll be in trouble." He gave her a very serious look. "I mean that."

"I understand," she said. "I’ll have a good long talk with them before I allow them to come with me. But I will be there, Harry. I want to see you play professionally."

He smiled. "It’s a lot different than the game you saw before. If you enjoyed that, you’ll be blown away by a professional game. It’s wicked fast." He handed her the tickets. "I’ve written ‘Potter-Weasley Family Box’ on these three tickets. I’ll have Ginny watching for you outside the stadium." He thought a moment. "Well, she’s extremely pregnant, so she may not feel up to that. Hmm. If she can’t do it, Hermione or Mr. or Mrs. Weasley will be waiting for you outside. You know all of them, and I can trust them to take good care of you. The stadium will look like a huge, abandoned aeroplane hanger to you. Remember, that’s just a Muggle-Repelling Charm. It’s actually quite beautiful. It’s the newest Quidditch stadium in the UK. Try to be there at least half an hour early. Ron and I pop up to the box about twenty minutes before the game to see the family, so I’ll see you then, and again after the game. All right?"

"Yes, thank you, Harry."  Petunia studied the passes in her hand, a look of amazement on her face. "These have pictures of you on them!"

He shrugged and blushed a bit. "Yeah, that’s how they know who’s given out the passes. We each get some to give out every week."

"It’s a wonderful picture! And it moves! You’re waving at me!"

"Wizard pictures always move, and paintings usually talk to you — you can have whole conversations with them, mirrors, all kinds of things," he murmured. "It’s fun being a wizard."

"It sounds like it," she said with a smile.

"Well, I need to go. I have to teach a class at the Auror School this afternoon — that’s why I’m in town — and I did want to find something for Ginny first," Harry said as he threw some Muggle money on the table to pay for their coffees and stood up. "It was good to see you again."

"Good to see you too," Petunia said, standing and trying to arrange her parcels.

"Let me help you with those," he said, chuckling as the slippery plastic bags started to slither out of her grasp.

"Oh, thank you! But I don’t want to make you late," she said.

"I’ve still got some time. Did you drive?"

"Yes."

"Where are you parked? I’ll help you get these to the car," he offered.

"Thank you! I’m just around the corner, actually," she said as they reached the door of the shop.

"Bye, ducks!" the waitress called. "Don’t forget to dig up a relative for me!"

"I’ll see what I can do, Marie," Harry said with a grin as he followed his aunt out of the shop.

"Is she . . . one of your kind?" Petunia asked when they were outside.

"No, she’s a Muggle. I’m here a lot because the Auror School is around the corner, and their coffee is terrible. I usually pick up a cup to take with me on days I’m there for meetings or to teach," Harry replied.

"What do you teach?"

"Defensive spells, mostly. Some battle strategies. I’m not as good at those as Ron, but since their baby came, he wants to stay at home more, so I’m teaching the rest of his classes for him. This is the last week of term, and I won’t be teaching next term, since the twins will be here by then." He smiled and blushed, obviously delighted at the thought of having his very own family.

"Will you still teach at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, that’s just takes Tuesday mornings. I have Tuesdays off from the team. It gives me a chance to visit with my grandfather, too."

Petunia stopped and stared at him. "Your WHAT?"

"Oh. I forgot you hadn’t heard. After Voldemort died, Professor Dumbledore told me he’s my great-great-grandfather. He kept the relationship a secret for several generations to protect us. My dad didn’t know, nor did his mum. Her mum was Grandfather’s daughter. Her husband was killed during the war with Grindelwald, and . . . well, it’s complicated, but those are the basics." He shrugged. "We’re building a suite onto our house in Godric’s Hollow for Grandfather to live in once he retires from Hogwarts."

"When is he retiring?" Petunia said, still trying to get her mind around the fact that the powerful wizard who’d made such changes in their lives by dropping baby Harry on their steps was Harry’s great-great-grandfather.

"Not for several years, but we want him to spend holidays with us and so on, so the children will get to know him well," Harry said comfortably. He looked at her, knowing what was on her mind. "And the reason he couldn’t keep me, the reason you were the one who had to take me in, was that it was my mother’s sacrifice that saved me, her blood that protected me, so I had to be with someone of her bloodline for that protection to work. And if he’d revealed he was my grandfather, he and I would have been in even more danger."

"How could you possibly have been in more danger than having the most evil . . . ." She was at a loss for words.

"Anything’s possible, Aunt Petunia," Harry said reasonably. "I mean, look at us. We’re having a pleasant conversation. Who would have believed that six years ago?"

She smiled. "You’re right. Ah, here we are," she said, getting out her keys and opening the boot of her car.

As she did so, five young ladies who’d just emerged from a nearby car hurried over. "Harry Potter? Is it really you? Right here on the street?"

"Hello," he said calmly. Fan girls, he thought with a sigh.

"Could we have your autograph?" one girl asked. She was wearing a London Lions t-shirt with Harry’s number superimposed on the lion’s mane.

"Sure. What do you want me to sign?" he said. "Do you have a pen?"

"Here," the girl said, holding out a felt-tip marker. "Sign my shirt?"

Harry grinned at her cheekiness. "OK. Turn around."

"No, here!" she said, standing boldly before him and arching her back so her t-shirt tightened across her breasts. The other girls giggled and watched with great interest to see what Harry would do.

"I’m an old married man, ladies," Harry said patiently, smiling at each girl in turn. He looked back at the girl waiting to have her shirt signed. "Your backs will have to do." He turned the girl around and wrote his name on the back of her shoulder, then did the same for her friends.

"Thanks! See you at the next game!" the girls called cheerfully as they moved away. They giggled and looked at him over their shoulders from time to time until they were lost in the crowd on the sidewalk.

"Did you know them?" Petunia said as they settled her purchases in the boot.

"Just by sight. I think they’re part of my fan club," he said with a sigh. He looked at her quite seriously. "I didn’t want a fan club, but some people started one — well, several, actually, and the team management wanted me to cooperate with them. To save me time and energy, they managed to talk the clubs into merging, so now there’s only one for me to deal with. I see those girls at the games whenever we play in London. The girl in the Lions t-shirt follows the team from game to game unless we play up in Scotland." He shrugged. "I don’t understand the whole fan thing, but they do bring new people to the games with them, and they keep getting others interested in the team, so that’s all good. It only takes me a little time to be nice to them. And nearly all of them have been very kind to me, and they treat Ginny with great respect, as well."

He closed the boot and started to move away. "I’ll see you on the weekend, then," he said, lifting his hand in farewell.

"Yes, see you then," Petunia promised. She watched him walk away, her mind whirling. She was simply stunned that the tall, well-dressed young man who exuded such self-assurance was her nephew. If someone had told her he’d grow into someone famous enough to have fan clubs, self-confident enough to handle adulation with ease, and kind enough to be polite to old enemies like the aunt who had mistreated him for so long, she would never have believed it. Yet it was true. Amazing.

* * * * *

"You’re kidding!" Fred Weasley said when his sister told him who she needed to meet outside the stadium. He shifted his infant son a bit in his arms. "The bleedin’ Dursleys?"

"Coming to watch Harry play?" George said in equal disbelief.

"Language, Fred," Maeve, Fred’s wife, chided him. "The babies."

"The babies are babies," Fred protested. "They won’t understand."

"Time to start new habits, luv," his wife said mildly.

Fred and George had met Maeve and Caitlyn O’Kelly on a business trip to Ireland, twin red-headed girls who were as stubborn and funny as Fred and George themselves. It was no time at all before there was a double wedding. Both girls being very much like Molly in many ways, babies soon followed, twin boys in both cases, all of them redheads, so identical that they looked like quadruplets. Molly was delighted to be surrounded by so many grandchildren all at once. Fred’s babies were three weeks older than George’s, and Ron and Hermione’s son was the oldest of all of them, four months older than the twins’ twins. Charlie, too, had finally found someone who suited him, a quiet Welsh girl from the region where the Welsh Green dragons bred. Megan was a strong girl who enjoyed the outdoor life Charlie preferred. They’d been married less than a year.

"But the Dursleys!" George said in disbelief. "How could Harry do that?"

"He says his aunt has changed, and she told him his uncle had changed as well," Ginny told them. "Nothing was said about Dudley being any different, but I’m sure he’ll behave himself if he’s sitting in the same box as you two," she told her twin brothers with a grin. "Just behave, for Harry’s sake, all right? You know the cameras will be on this box since the crowd knows we’re his and Ron’s family. Let’s keep things as pleasant as possible, all right?"

"We can’t hex them even a little bit?" Fred pleaded. "Dudley’s such a git!"

"Fred Weasley!" Maeve snapped. "Language!" Molly, sitting behind them, chuckled and then smiled at her daughter-in-law with great approval.

"Sorry, dear," he said, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, nuzzling his other son’s downy head where it rested on her shoulder.

"It’s time for me to go wait for her," Ginny said, looking at her watch and starting to heave her awkwardly pregnant body out of her seat.

"I’ll go," Arthur said. "You need to stay off your feet."

"Thanks, Dad," Ginny replied gratefully as she sank back into her carefully cushioned seat. Her entire family was coddling her during her pregnancy. As petite as she was, carrying twins was quite uncomfortable for her.

* * * * *

Arthur Weasley stood outside the stadium, rocking on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing his best Muggle attire — striped trousers, a Lions t-shirt and a brown leather bomber jacket. He saw a car pull up and park in the row and three very uneasy-looking people get out.

"Mrs. Dursley, Mr. Dursley, how nice to see you again. Arthur Weasley, perhaps you remember me?" Arthur said politely, greeting them with his hand extended.

"Yes, so nice to see you again," Petunia said carefully. She shook the man’s hand a bit nervously, then prodded Vernon to do the same. "You remember our son, Dudley?"

"Yes, Dudley, how are you?" Arthur said, offering his hand. Dudley drew back in fear. "Now, that will simply not do, young man," Arthur chided him sharply. "You’re going to be sitting in the best seats in the stadium. People will be watching us, and there will be photographers taking pictures of us all the time, catching our reactions to the game because we’re Ron’s and Harry’s family, and they’re the stars of the team. You need to put a good face on it if you’re going to be in the family box." He held his hand out again and Dudley finally shook it. "That’s better. Harry is giving you an opportunity few Muggles ever have. Please don’t make him regret it." Arthur had planned to be as polite as possible to these Muggles, but they already had him worried. He was as protective of Harry as he was of his own children, and he would not allow these people to spoil the day for any of his family.

"They play a sport in there?" Vernon said, eyeing the decrepit old hanger in front of him warily.

"Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cast the charm that will allow you to see it properly," Arthur said as he pulled out his wand. He frowned at Vernon and Dudley when they flinched at the sight of it and waited for them to get hold of themselves before casting the spell on the Dursleys so they could see the stadium as it was in reality. When the spell was done, he grinned at the Muggles’ expressions. He knew they’d seen a manky old building before, and that now, the gorgeous stadium was revealed to them. "Beautiful, isn’t it?"

"Oh, my," Petunia breathed, looking up at the immense structure. "It is beautiful!" White cloth arced elegantly over the seats to protect spectators from the sun. Colourful flags few from numerous poles around the walls. Each entryway was flanked by paintings of a gold lion rampant on a scarlet field, with "London Lions" arched above the door itself.

"I’m so looking forward to the game," Petunia said as they followed Arthur toward the door. She hoped Vernon and Dudley would lighten up soon. They’d both agreed to come. They’d sounded interested in the game, at least a little. She’d done the best she could to prepare them. She crossed her fingers, then smiled at herself for doing something so childish.

Arthur noticed her crossed fingers. He leaned toward her. "It works, you know."

"What?" she said, startled.

"Crossing your fingers," he said, laying his finger next to his nose and winking at her. "Let’s go in, shall we?"

After everyone greeted the new arrivals and they all settled in their seats, Ginny made her way to the Dursleys seats and offered them an open cardboard box.

"Hello, Ginny. It’s nice to see you again. What’s this?" Petunia asked, smiling at the extremely pregnant young woman.

"Nice to see you, too. This box has rosettes to show you support the Lions. Harry sent them up. He also made sure we have pennants, banners, flags, hats, whatever you want. Help yourself." She smiled and set the box down. "I hope you enjoy the game. Thanks for coming. It means a lot to Harry." She placed a supportive hand on her stomach. "Settle down," she sighed, giving her hugely swollen stomach a maternal glare.

"When are you due?" Petunia said politely. "Congratulations, by the way. Harry said they’re twins. How exciting for you!"

"Yes, I can hardly wait," Ginny replied, her eyes warm and happy. "I’m due in a couple of weeks. These two seem to want to dance today. I’d better sit down again. Please excuse me." She smiled graciously, then went back to her seat in the front row beside Hermione.

Cheers broke out in various places around the stadium.

"What’s happening?" Petunia asked Molly Weasley, who had just sat down beside her.

"Ron and Harry have come into the box, and people have seen them," Molly said, waving at her son and son-in-law, who were down at the front kissing their wives. The two young men were already in uniform. They straightened and waved both hands at the crowd, who cheered much more loudly now that their attention was being returned by their heroes.

Ron came striding up the stairs, his son in his arms. "Hi, Mum, Dad!" His eyes slid across his parents to the Muggles beside them. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. Dudley. Harry said you’d be here today. I hope you enjoy the game. Thanks for coming."

"Thank you," Petunia said graciously.

She elbowed Vernon, who nodded and said, "Yes, it should be interesting."

"Dad, have you explained the game to Uncle Vernon and Dudley yet?" Harry asked as he joined Ron near the senior Weasleys.

"I was just beginning to. We have plenty of time. We’ll make certain they understand what they’re seeing, don’t worry," Arthur assured him.

"Great!" He turned to the Dursleys and smiled hesitantly. "Uncle Vernon. Dudley. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," Vernon said a bit stiffly.

"Fine," Dudley said, then clamped his mouth shut.

Harry saw this and grinned. "I’ve made the twins promise to behave today. Fred and George, that is. There are so many twins now, I suppose I need to specify which ones," he said with a laugh as he grinned at his mischievous brothers-in-law a few seats down. "You’ll be all right, don’t worry. I’m glad you made it."

"Thank you for the tickets," Uncle Vernon said with a small, uneasy smile. "I understand these are the best seats?"

"Absolutely," Ron said, "Harry’s Team Captain and he gets the best seats because of that. Our whole family gets the benefit of it."

George looked from Vernon’s nervous face to the Weasley/Potter family, which filled the box quite well. The only non-redheads were Harry, Hermione and the Dursleys. "If you don’t feel as if you fit in, we can give you red hair just for the length of the match," he offered, grinning.

"George," Harry warned, but his eyes were laughing. "You promised."

"And so he did," his wife, Caitlyn, agreed. "He’ll behave."

"Have you met everyone?" Harry asked the Dursleys politely. Seeing their blank faces, he made the introductions, explaining who was married to whom, and which of the babies being passed around belonged with which parents.

"Harry!" a man’s voice called from the side of the family box. "How are you, mate?"

"Dan! Good to see you. How’s the band doing?" Harry said, going to greet Dan Jacobs, leader of the band, Toads in the Loo, who had become a good friend of Harry’s.

"Blooming, mate, just blooming. The new album’s gone double-crystal. Thanks for the commentary you wrote for it! Your name always helps us sell albums."

"Hey, you know I love your music! I was happy to help out," Harry said, grinning at his friend. "And your music sells itself, I don’t have a thing to do with it."

"Whatever you say, mate," Dan said, "just as long as you keep doing liner notes for us!"

"No problem."

"How’s Ginny?" Dan asked, leaning around Harry to wave to her. "Looks as if she’s about to burst!"

"Yeah, the babies are due in a couple of weeks."

"You’re one lucky bloke, you do know that?" Dan said, punching Harry lightly in the shoulder.

"Yes, I do," Harry replied, glancing over his shoulder at his wife. He turned back to shake hands with Dan. "Enjoy the game!"

"I intend to! Win it for me, will you? I’ve got quite a few galleons on it!"

"I’ll do my best," Harry assured him, grinning.

"Harry!" Ginny called suddenly. "It’s time!"

"What?" he cried, leaping down the steps and across the length of the box to her. "It’s time?"

"For the match, silly! You need to go!"

He relaxed visibly. "Whew! You had me worried there!" He bent down and kissed her soundly, sparking cheers all over the stadium. "All right, see you lot later!" he said, waving to the rest of the family and the stadium in general, and then following Ron down the stairs to the locker room.

* * * * *

Vernon and Dudley sat with their jaws dropped, as they had for the last two hours. They couldn’t believe they were watching men and women zooming around at well over a hundred miles per hour — sometimes over two hundred miles per hour, if Arthur Weasley was to be believed — and on brooms! And despite being on brooms, they were playing quite a rough-and-tumble game! Those "bludgeons," or whatever they were called, knocked people nearly off their brooms with regularity, yet the game didn’t stop. The players stuck like another coat of varnish to their brooms and played despite injuries that would have felled someone in a rugby game. The Dursley men were impressed in spite of themselves.

And Harry — what could they say about Harry? They’d seen him cruise high overhead for long periods, then suddenly dart among players or dive straight toward the ground, always managing to pull up within a hair’s breadth of disaster. Petunia screamed every time he did this, but Vernon and Dudley just held their breath, shocked that anyone would willingly get on a stick, go a hundred feet in the air and then point the stick straight down and race toward earth at two hundred miles an hour! And then to pull out of the dive as neatly as he did! Astounding!

Harry had been feinting during those dives, but when he finally saw the Snitch, all pretence was gone and he tore after it, going much faster, flying with even more abandon than he had before. When he caught it and spiralled upward with the small golden ball clutched in his upraised fist, the roar of the crowd was deafening. The Dursleys found themselves swept up in the emotion of the throng and stood up, cheering and waving their pennants as wildly as anyone else. Petunia even joined the chant of "HAR-RY! HAR-RY! HAR-RY! HAR-RY!" that filled the stands.

The teams landed and shook hands, then left the field. Harry and Ron were nearly off the field on their way to the locker room when Ginny cried out and collapsed in her seat. Despite all the noise, Harry heard her, attuned as his senses always were to her. He looked up at the stands and saw her writhing in her seat, holding her stomach, Hermione bent over her solicitously.

"Ginny!" he cried, then leapt onto his broom and flew up to the family box. He jumped off of his broom and knelt beside her. "What’s wrong? Are you OK?" Ron landed just behind him.

"I’m in labour," she said, a sheen of sweat on her face.

"It’s time?" he said, aghast. She nodded.

"She’s been having contractions every so often throughout the game," Hermione said, "She’s a healer — she should have known! But she said you needed her here for luck and refused to leave."

"And so I do, you silly girl, but we need to get you to the hospital now," he said, love shining in his eyes. "Are you up to flashing?"

"Yes, please," she said miserably. "I’d like that."

"OK," he said. He glanced up at the rest of the family. "I have to take Ginny to the hospital. She’s having our babies! See you there!" With that, he changed into a phoenix, grasped her robes in his talons and flashed out of sight.

"What just happened?" Vernon said in confusion. "Where did that bird come from?"

"Ginny’s in labour," Molly said, obviously worried. "The bird was Harry. He took her to the hospital. The babies are two weeks early. Come on, Arthur, let’s go."

"We’ll take Richard," Maeve told Hermione, handing the baby in her own arms to her husband. "You go on, she’ll need you."

"Thanks!" Hermione said, passing the baby and his diaper bag over to her sister-in-law.

"Give her our best, and kiss those babies for us!" Caitlyn said. "We’ll go to Harry’s house and keep the children there. You lot go on."

"We’ll help you get them to Harry’s," George told his wife, "and then we’ll go to the hospital. Maybe by then, the messy part will be over!"

"Messy part, my eye!" his wife said tartly. He rewarded her with a cheeky grin and a repentant kiss.

As the Weasley twins and their wives packed up baby things so they could leave, the Dursleys stood where they’d been left, looking a bit lost. Vernon turned to his wife. "The bird was Harry?" She simply nodded as she watched the activity around them.

"Um — how are you getting to the hospital?" Petunia asked Molly as the other woman finished gathering up her things. Petunia knew not many wizards had cars. "We can drive you if you like."

"That’s all right, dear, we can Apparate," Molly said with a watery smile. "Oh, my baby’s having babies! I simply can’t stand it!"

"Thank you for the offer," Arthur said kindly. "Erm . . . would you like to come? You’re Harry’s family, after all."

"Could we?" Petunia said hopefully. "We wouldn’t want to be in the way."

"With so many of us, three more won’t make much difference. And Remus, Tonks and Albus will want to come soon too, I’m sure," Arthur said. "Come along, I’ll ride with you so you can get into the hospital. Molly, you go with the boys. I’ll tell Tonks to drop off her children at Harry’s house with the others."

* * * * *

A few hours later, a weary but delighted Harry stepped into the Waiting Room. "Identical boys," he said happily. "Loads of black hair. Ginny swears their eyes are going to be green, but I can’t tell. She says they look like me."

"Poor little tykes," Fred jibed, making his brothers laugh and his mother scowl at him.

"How’s Ginny?" Molly asked.

"She’s very tired. She had a rough go for a while, but she’s going to be fine. The healers were very pleased with everything," Harry said.

"Identical twin boys!" George chortled. "More twins for us to corrupt!"

"But people will know which twins to blame when these two get, shall we say ‘creative,’ since they aren’t redheads," Fred pointed out.

George grinned wickedly. "Ah, there is that. Perhaps we can dye their hair."

"You’ll have to fight their mother over that one," Harry warned them, laughing as he spoke. "She seems rather pleased that they aren’t redheads." He noticed the Dursleys sitting quietly in the corner. "I didn’t know you came. Thanks!"

"The Weasleys invited us," Petunia said, a bit unnerved by some of the strange maladies they’d seen on people passing by: a woman with something shaped like a bird trying repeatedly to emerge from her forehead, a child floating near the ceiling, her mother chasing after her trying to pull her down, a man who couldn’t stop doing cartwheels, many others. The receptionist who’d told them where to wait had "Sneak" in purple pustules across her face, badly hidden by heavy makeup. Petunia wondered what the story was behind that affliction. The sight of that young woman had made Hermione and Ron smile for some reason.

"It was nice of you to come, and to wait so long. The babies are nursing now, but you’ll all be able to see them in a few minutes." He moved across the room and hugged his grandfather, godfather and godmother. "Thanks for coming! Where are the kids?" he asked Tonks.

"At your house. The twins are taking care of them," Tonks replied, kissing him on the cheek. "Twin boys, Harry! I’m so happy for you!"

"Thanks!" he said, his face glowing with joy. He turned back to the senior Weasleys. "Mum, would you and Dad like to come in now? Ginny said she’d like to see you."

"Oh, yes!" Molly said, leaping to her feet. She and Arthur followed Harry through the swinging doors and down the corridor to Ginny’s room. Ginny was busy learning how to nurse two babies at once. A twin in each arm, she looked exhausted but radiant.

"Oh, Ginny, they’re beautiful!" Molly enthused, tears coursing down her face.

"Well done, dear," Arthur said, smiling fondly at his daughter.

"They look like Harry!" Ginny said with delight. "Aren’t they gorgeous?"

As the women chatted, Arthur asked Harry, "Have you held one of them yet?"

"Yes. I was afraid I’d break him! I’m glad the twins and Ron and Hermione already had babies so I had a bit of experience with them," Harry said, smiling broadly.

"Sweetie, could you take Siri?" Ginny said a few minutes later.

"Sure," Harry said, taking a baby from her arms, then handing it to Molly.

"Siri?" Molly said, looking up from the precious bundle in her arms.

"He’s the younger one. Sirius Albus Potter. And this one is James Arthur Potter," Ginny said, handing the infant to Harry, who deposited him in Arthur’s arms. "We’ll call them Jamie and Siri."

"What wonderful names!" Molly said, tears streaming down her joy-filled face as she kissed her new grandson for the first time.

"James Arthur?" Arthur said, his face glowing with delighted surprise. "You named him after me?"

"Of course!" Ginny said, smiling.

Molly was busy examining her newest grandson. "Oh, he has tons of black hair, just like his father."

"And the same cowlicks that won’t let Harry’s hair lie down," Ginny said with a fond smile.

"Poor blokes," Harry said, chuckling.

"I love your hair!" Ginny said, laughing at him.

"You don’t have to live with it!" he countered.

"Oh, yes, I do!" she retorted, then yawned hugely.

"You’re tired, baby," he said, relenting. "We can go back to poking fun at my hair — and now our boys’ hair — when you’ve rested a bit."

"Our boys," she murmured, reaching for Harry’s hand and smiling at the picture her parents made as they cuddled their newest grandchildren.

* * * * *

Eleven years after Jamie and Siri’s arrival

After twelve years as the best Seeker England had ever seen, Harry was now in his fourth year as the coach of the London Lions. He’d decided coaching was in his family’s best interest after suffering a serious injury that landed him in the hospital for several days. The sight of Ginny’s exhausted face after dealing with their children alone for so long, as well as worrying herself sick about him, was enough to make him decide to stop taking chances with his health. And honestly, all the injuries he’d suffered throughout his life, whether from Quidditch, battle, or ambushes when Voldemort was trying to kill him, were beginning to slow him down a bit anyway, now that he was in his thirties. He and Ron had played for England in three World Cup games during their Quidditch careers, winning handily every time. They’d both been active Aurors in the off-season, and had taught at the Auror School as well, Harry teaching defensive spells and advanced flying techniques, Ron teaching battle strategies. They’d backed off of their Auror duties as their families grew, finally retiring from the Auror ranks to play Quidditch full time when the strain of worrying about them and caring for all those children alone so often showed on their wives’ uncomplaining faces.

Ron now worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ginny had finished Healer School and worked as a healer for a couple of years before starting their family. Hermione had finished Oxford Wizarding University and had become a writer, writing new school books as well as revising many textbooks and "Hogwarts: A History." She was also writing fiction books for the Muggle market, telling wizarding stories as if they were fairy tales.

Harry continued to teach flying at Hogwarts on Tuesdays, as well, a part-time job that gave him a great deal of pleasure. As he locked the broom cupboard after his last class of the day, Harry saw his grandfather approaching.

"Hi," Harry said cheerfully.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said with warm affection in his voice. "Ready for the school term to be over?"

"Yes," he replied. There were only a few more weeks before the summer holidays began. "I’m looking forward to spending more time with my family over the summer. This will be Jamie and Siri’s last summer before starting Hogwarts, so I want to spend as much time with them as possible. I can’t imagine not seeing them until Christmas."

"Except on Tuesdays," Dumbledore said with a smile as he and Harry turned toward the castle.

"Yes, except on Tuesdays," Harry agreed.

"I wanted to talk to you about that," Dumbledore said, stopping and looking at Harry seriously.

"What is it?" Harry said, a bit unnerved by his grandfather’s suddenly earnest demeanour.

"I’m going to retire, Harry. I’m slowing down, getting too old to manage things here anymore. And I, too, would like to spend more time with my family." He smiled at the younger man. Harry and his children were nearly all the family Dumbledore had left now. His brother, Aberforth, had died a few years ago. The only other relative he had left was Minerva McGonagall, a distant cousin.

Harry grinned. "I told you when we built the house in Godric’s Hollow that the extension on the back was yours whenever you wanted it. I meant that. It’s yours. We’d love for you to live with us, not just visit."

"Oh, dear boy, I don’t want to put you and Ginny out that way," Dumbledore began.

"If you don’t want to live with us, that’s your choice, but it wouldn’t be putting us out. We would be thrilled to have you there all the time. You know we all love you."

Dumbledore blinked hard, fighting back tears. "You are too kind, Harry, really. Thank you. If you and Ginny are serious—"

"Absolutely."

"Then I’d be honoured to live there. Thank you," the old wizard said sincerely. He pulled Harry into a hug and held him for a long moment, then released him. "That wasn’t why I told you I was retiring, actually, but what a lovely thing for you and Ginny to do."

"It’s our pleasure, Grandfather," Harry said sincerely.

"Well," Dumbledore said, clearing his throat, "what I really wanted to speak with you about was a change in your position here. Minerva will be the headmistress. I would like you to teach Transfiguration. You can continue to teach the flying classes as well, if you’d like."

"Transfiguration? Me?" Harry said in surprise. "But—"

"Who better? You’re an outstanding teacher, as well as a multiple Animagus. Your grades in Transfiguration were fine. I know you’re best at Defence against the Dark Arts, but Remus—"

"I won’t take Remus’s job," Harry said firmly. "That’s his as long as he wants it."

"You will be a fine Transfiguration teacher, Harry. Will you consider it? You won’t need to live here. You can still flash home every evening. And you’ll be here with Jamie and Siri — you’ll be their teacher." He held this thought out like a carrot before a horse, tempting his grandson.

"You know all the right buttons to push, don’t you?" Harry laughed.

"I do my best," the old man agreed, chuckling. "Will you do it? Of course, we can’t pay you as well as the Lions do."

"You know that doesn’t matter to me," Harry replied with a grin. "I’ll need to talk it over with Ginny. She’d be glad to have me home on weekends, anyway. Coaching the Lions keeps me pretty busy, and with games at the weekends—"

"I do understand. Let me know your decision as soon as you can, all right?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "When do you want to move in with us?"

"Sometime during the summer, I think," his grandfather replied. "I’ll need to tidy things up here a bit before handing the job over to Minerva."

"All right. We’re looking forward to having you there," Harry said, giving his grandfather’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. He cringed inwardly when he noticed how frail the old man’s shoulder felt under his hand. His grandfather must be around 170 now, which was old even for a wizard. Harry was glad that Dumbledore would spend his remaining years with his family. It would be good for all of them.

* * * * *

"I’m home!" Harry called as he entered his big, rambling house in Godric’s Hollow. He grinned as a sea of children converged on him.

"Dad! Dad!" "Daddy’s home!" "Guess what I did today!" "Pick me up, Daddy!" his children called. Soon Harry was carrying his five-year-old twin girls, Lily and Molly Elizabeth, known as "Beth," with his seven-year-old boys, John and Brian, each riding one of his feet, and his nine-year-old son, Dan, bouncing around him as he made his way through the house. When Ginny met him in the living room, he bent over as much as he could with young ones in his arms to kiss her.

"Have a good day?" she asked as she began detaching children from him.

"Yeah, great!" he replied. He always enjoyed his days at Hogwarts. "How about you?"

"Well, I found we needed a better locking spell on the broom shed," she said with a rueful grin. "The girls had your old Excalibur out and nearly got it flying!"

"They’re only five!"

"Never underestimate the power of a determined redhead," she said with a smile.

"I learned that lesson years ago," he chuckled as he watched his green-eyed daughters pick up their kittens and settle in their little rocking chairs, holding the kitties like babies. "They seem to be OK."

"Yes, they’re fine. So’s your old broom."

"I hate to think what could have happened if they’d managed to get that broom flying," he said, his stomach clenching nervously at the thought. The Excalibur had been his first professional Quidditch broom and still went over two hundred miles per hour, but it shuddered badly at times now.

"Me, too. I had a good talk with them and gave them chores to do as punishment. But it’s time you put them on real brooms instead of the baby brooms, I think. They need to learn how to be safe with real power under them."

"I’ll start them off this weekend. You don’t want them to have a flying lesson on the same day they got in trouble for flying without permission, do you?" he teased.

"You know I don’t," she said, poking him in the ribs.

"Ow, you’ve wounded me, woman!" he said, grabbing her and pulling her down on the couch.

"Family pileup!" Dan cried, his blue eyes dancing. Suddenly Harry and Ginny were covered in a laughing, squirming pile of children. Harry rolled the entire mass onto the floor, cushioning their fall with an Arresto Momentum, then began a tickling session with as many kids as he could reach. Those out of his reach soon got close enough to get in the fun.

"Where are Jamie and Siri?" Harry asked when he caught his breath.

"They were playing in Ron’s back garden the last time I saw them," Ginny said, without concern. Harry had placed strong wards around both properties and their home Quidditch pitch so that no one could enter without the adults giving them permission, and the children couldn’t wander off the property either. Harry and Ron were both famous and wealthy enough that they felt the need for extra protections for their families. He’d also gotten permission to teach their children some elementary defensive spells they could do with the small training wands he’d had Mr. Ollivander make for them. The wands were spelled to only do those defensive charms Harry had asked Mr. Ollivander to put in them. Harry and Ron had also taught their children how to fly as soon as they were coordinated enough. Each of them carried a Shrinking Charmed broom in their pockets at all times, so they’d be as safe as possible wherever they went. The brooms were spelled to enlarge with a simple password, but only when given by either the broom’s owner or one of their parents.

Just then the family heard a commotion outside.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did NOT!"

"Did too!"

"Did NOT!"

By this time, Harry and Ginny were standing in the doorway, their children peeping around them to see what was going on. Jamie and Siri were trudging toward the house, Siri red-faced with fury, Jamie looking quite guilty. Siri had rhubarb growing out of his ears.

"What happened?" Harry said, giving his boys a stern parental stare.

"I didn’t mean to do it," Jamie began.

"Did too!" Siri growled. Sometimes Harry thought Sirius Black had come back to life in his namesake. Siri had a laugh like a bark and growled when he was angry, just like Sirius.

"What did you do, Jamie?" Harry said patiently.

Jamie reached into his pocket, his head hanging low and a look of guilt on his face as he pulled out his dad’s first wand.

"Where did you find that?" Ginny snapped, grabbing the wand from the boy’s limp fingers.

"We were poking around in the barn and found it in an old box," Jamie replied miserably.

"Jamie thought he could do spells because he’s been reading Aunt Hermione’s books!" Siri said indignantly.

"Aunt Hermione would be the first to tell you that reading spells doesn’t necessarily teach you how to do them," Harry chided him. He was having trouble not smiling at Siri’s plight. He looked quite funny with rhubarb coming out of his ears.

"Oh, for Merlin’s sake," Ginny said, waving the wand and ridding her second son of the offending vegetables. "When are you two going to learn that magic isn’t a game?"

"When we go to Hogwarts," they intoned together.

Ginny had to stifle a laugh at their serious reply. She caught Harry’s eye and saw that he, too, was on the verge of giggles. She forced herself into strict parental mode. "Jamie, you will clean the stables by yourself for the next three days as punishment. Siri, you were involved too, weren’t you? You didn’t tell Jamie to put it back, did you?" The boy shook his head miserably. "Fine. Then you can de-gnome the garden by yourself for the next three days."

"Three days?" Siri said in horror. "But I didn’t do anything! I’m the victim here!"

"And if you’d either talked your brother into putting the wand back, or told your mother or me that he had it, you wouldn’t have been walking around with rhubarb coming out of your ears, would you?" Harry said reasonably. "I think you’re equally guilty."

"But — but — but —" Siri protested.

"Children, are all of you paying attention?" Ginny said, looking at the rest of her brood. She got solemn nods all around. "If you see one of your brothers or sisters doing something like this, you need to get him or her to stop, or come tell your dad or me. Is that clear? Magic isn’t something to play with. You can really hurt each other if you cast spells incorrectly."

"That’s true," Harry agreed, having been the victim of many miscast spells.

"Now go on and do your chores. We’ll have dinner in an hour," Ginny said, sending her children out of the house. "Jamie, Siri, get started on those jobs."

"Yes, Mum," the two oldest boys chorused.

Each child had his or her own jobs to do on their small farm. Some weeded the garden, some fed the chickens or gathered eggs, others fed the dogs, cats and horses. The children scattered to do their evening chores, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the house.

"Ah, alone at last," Harry teased, nibbling on Ginny’s neck.

"Not for long!" she said, giggling as he gently tickled her, then plucked at her buttons, loosening the top one and peeping inside her shirt as if there was a wondrous treasure hidden there, an impish gleam in his eyes as he planned his next move. She was delighted that Harry, without the threat of Voldemort hanging over him, had become a playful, funny man, always ready for some mischief. She rarely saw the serious side of him anymore, and his flaming rages were a thing of the past.

"You have a reprieve for now, m’lady," he said, kissing the end of her nose delicately, "but we have an appointment later." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, making her laugh, and carefully re-did the button he’d undone. "I love your laugh. Actually, I love all of you," he said, holding her close.

"Lucky me," she said, relaxing against him. "I love you too."

"Good thing," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t."

"You’d court me and get me to love you all over again," she said with tremendous confidence, leaning back in his arms to look up at him.

"Yes, I would," he agreed pulling her into his embrace again. He just held her quietly for a few minutes, savouring the feeling of his lovely wife in his arms. Finally, he released her, and said, "We need to talk."

"What’s wrong?" she said, instantly on guard.

"Nothing," he said with a smile. "Grandfather’s retiring and that’s going to cause some changes in our life."

"Did he agree to come and live with us?"  She loved Dumbledore as much as Harry did, and the children adored him.

"Yes, he did. He was very touched that I asked him," Harry replied. He went on to tell her about the job offer.

"Transfiguration? You’ll be brilliant at that!"

"It will mean seeing the boys every day," he said with a smile. "I’d like that. But what do you think? Is it all right with you?"

"To have you home on weekends, and for you to be able to keep an eye on our kids and nephews? You silly man, why did you even need to ask?"

"Because it wouldn’t be fair to agree without talking with you."    

"Take the job, Harry," Ginny encouraged him. "You were an excellent teacher at the Auror School, and you’ve got plenty of experience teaching children from being the flying instructor at Hogwarts all these years. You’ll do a wonderful job."

He smiled. "Thanks. I was hoping you’d say that."

* * * * *

The next week, Dumbledore visited Harry, Ginny and their family in Godric’s Hollow. Ron, Hermione and their three boys joined the Potter clan for dinner. All three boys looked like Ron, although Will, the middle son, had brown eyes like his mother and his Aunt Ginny.

As everyone relaxed in the living room after a wonderful dinner, Ron smiled and said, "I had some news today."

"You’ve had that ‘I have news’ expression all evening," Ginny chided him, chuckling at his blush. "I wondered when you’d get around to telling us what it was."

Despite his reddened ears, Ron smiled with quiet pride. "I’ve been named head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It will be in the paper tomorrow."

"Congratulations!" "Well done!" "Good for you!" Ginny, Harry and Dumbledore said, as Hermione beamed.

"That’s a well-deserved promotion," Harry said, reaching over to clap his best mate on the back. "What you’ve done there already has been amazing. I can’t wait to see what you do as head of the department!"

"Thanks," Ron said, blushing even more. "I have a lot of ideas. I’ll want to talk them over with you sometime, Harry."

"Yeah, sure!" Harry agreed. They discussed Ron’s promotion a bit more, then Ginny asked Hermione how her new book was coming along.

"It’s finished actually," she said with a smile. She turned to Dumbledore, who all the Weasley children now called "Grandfather" like the Potter children. "It’s the first of that new series of text books. Actually, I have most of the others nearly completed as well. I work on each of them as ideas come to me, so they’re all fairly well along. I’m hoping to release them as a complete set. My publisher’s quite excited about it."

"Wonderful!" the old wizard said. "I can’t wait to read them."

"I have the manuscript for the first one here, if you’d like to hear some of it," she offered. With everyone’s encouragement, she pulled a huge roll of parchment from her bag. "The title is ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone,’" she said, glancing at Harry a bit uneasily.

"I thought you said you were writing some new text books," Harry said suspiciously.

"I am. They’ll be added to the cirriculum in History of Magic," she replied. "Professor Binns has been trying to tell your stories from memory, so I decided to write them down, one per year for all your years at Hogwarts. Now he’ll have to get the facts straight."

"You’re kidding, right?" Harry said, frowning.

"No, I’m not." Hermione looked at Harry warily.

"She’s got a Muggle publisher interested in them as kids’ books, too," Ron said with obvious pride. He seemed to have missed Harry’s displeasure with the news.

"Ron’s read through them," she said hurriedly, hoping Harry wouldn’t blow up about this. He’d been even-tempered for so many years, she’d nearly forgotten about his rages, but she could see he wasn’t at all happy right now. "He thinks they’re fine. Honestly, they won’t embarrass you, Harry. I wouldn’t do that to you."

"Harry, you are an important part of our history," Ginny said, putting a gentle hand on his arm. "Children need to learn the truth about those times."

"What are the other titles?" Dumbledore asked Hermione with an encouraging smile.

"‘Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets,’ ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,’ ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,’ ‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,’ ‘Harry Potter and the Refiner’s Fire,’ and ‘Harry Potter and the Time of Destiny,’" she replied, glancing at Harry apprehensively.

"‘The Time of Destiny’?" Harry said, his scowl deepening. "Isn’t that a bit . . . pretentious?"

Hermione huffed a bit, impatient with his apparent thickness. "What part of that title isn’t true?" she said tartly. "It was your destiny to deal with Voldemort. That’s where I got the title."

"Erm, Hermione?" Ginny said hesitantly, glancing at all the young faces around them. "How, um, detailed are those last two books?"

"I put everything in," Hermione said, frowning in confusion at her sister-in-law. "Why?"

"Not the bits about . . . well, you know," Ginny breathed, her eyes wide with horror. "Surely not."

"Oh!" Hermione said, understanding at once. "I, erm, glossed over those bits. I’m writing them for children, not the adult market."

"OK, good," Ginny said, relaxing again.

"You’re sure about that?" Harry insisted, frowning at his best friend. "There are some things . . . ." His voice trailed off as he saw the laughter in Ron’s and Hermione’s eyes.

"We feel the same way, don’t worry," Ron said. "I talked to her about it — and then I read the manuscript, as well. No worries."

"What are you talking about?" Brian asked innocently.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. Ginny leaned forward to answer her son’s question. "You know how sometimes you do things you don’t want us to know about?" The little boy nodded. "Well, there are some things your dad, Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron and I did in school that we don’t really want everyone to know about either. So those things shouldn’t be included in the books. OK?"

"Wow! Like what?" John, Brian’s twin asked excitedly.

"None of your business, young man," Ginny said, doing her best not to blush. Ron, Hermione and Harry all chuckled and did their best to fight the rising colour in their faces. "You just need to remember that we were young once, too."

"You were?" Beth said, looking quite surprised at such a revelation.

"Yes, they were," Dumbledore said, hugging her for a moment. "Even I was young once, long, long ago, and there are a great many things I did then that I haven’t even told your father." He chuckled and shared an amused look with Harry.

Jamie looked at Siri and their best friend, Ron’s eleven-year-old, Richard. "Boy, they must be hiding some good stuff! Look at them blush!" he murmured. The other boys giggled.

Hermione shook back her curls and smiled at Harry. "Ron’s right. I cleaned it up. Don’t worry."

"Aunt Hermione, what’s the name of this book?" John said, trying to get back to what sounded like a fun thing to do.

"‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone,’" she replied.

"What’s a Philosopher’s Stone?" Dan said.

"You’ll learn that in the story," she replied. "May I read it to them?" she asked Harry.

Harry sighed and sat back on the couch with his arms folded across his chest. Jamie, Siri and Richard were staring at Harry with fascination. He could just see the same thing happening hundreds of times over with the many students at Hogwarts.

"Dad?" Jamie said quietly. "We’d like to hear the story. May we?" Siri nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, Dad, please let Aunt Hermione read her story," Dan agreed, scooting over to sit next to his older brothers. Ron and Hermione’s nine-year-old, Will, sat on the floor next to Dan, gazing raptly at his Uncle Harry. Cliff, the Weasleys’ five-year-old, squeezed between Harry’s sons John and Brian. Lily and Beth scrambled up into their grandfather’s lap, settled in comfortably and looked at Hermione expectantly.

Harry sighed again. "Go ahead, Hermione. You seem to have an eager audience."

She began the tale, surprising Harry with the amount of detail she remembered from so many years ago. She was using everyone’s real names, too — his, Dumbledore’s, McGonagall’s, Hagrid’s, the Dursleys—

"Hermione, you’ve used all of our real names," Harry said abruptly.

"Yes, I did. They’re history books, Harry, so I have to use the real names and the true information. I can’t make things up for these books."

"What about the ones for the Muggle market?" he said. "Some Muggles may remember me, you know, and the Dursleys—"

"These books have been cleared through Madam Bones herself," Hermione explained. "There will be a Confundus Charm on them so the names will read differently for Muggles than for wizards. ‘Dursley’ will read as ‘Douglas,’ ‘Privet Drive’ will read as ‘Province Drive,’ the Asher family will be the Arnolds, ‘Harry Potter’ will be ‘Hal Pipping’ — that kind of thing."

"‘Hal Pipping’?" Harry said with a grimace. "That’s an awful name!"

"I can change it. This is the original manuscript. The spell is already on it, but I can still change the names. What would you like?"

"I don’t know. Erm . . . why not ‘James Evans’?" Harry suggested.

"I mention James in the seventh year book when I tell about your visit to the giants," she explained.

"Giants?" Dan squeaked. "Dad, you never told us about visiting giants! Real giants? Bigger than Hagrid?"

"Yes, twice as big as Hagrid," Harry assured him. "I’ll tell you about it later, all right? I need to finish this talk with Aunt Hermione right now."

"All right," Dan said, putting his arms around his bent legs and watching his father avidly, apparently willing to wait however long it took to hear the giant story.

Harry smiled at his son, then turned back to Hermione. "How about, erm, James Harrison? Harry James? No, that’s too close to reality. Um . . ."

"Why don’t you let Hermione deal with it, love?" Ginny suggested. "She’s the writer, after all."

"But ‘Hal Pipping’?" Harry cried in obvious disgust.

Ideas for names for Harry’s character were tossed around until the children protested.

"Dad! We want to hear the rest of the story! Please, can Aunt Hermione read some more?" Brian said.

"Go ahead, Hermione," Harry grumbled, leaning back on the couch and bracing himself for what was to come.

As Hermione began reading again, her words wove a magic spell around all of them. The children listed wide-eyed and eager to hear what happened next. Ginny and Ron reacted with grins or grimaces to the various incidents, depending on what was happening. Dumbledore laughed aloud from time to time, sometimes muttering, "So that’s what really happened," with amusement.

Harry stayed braced for the worst, watching everyone’s reactions carefully. Finally he relaxed and began to enjoy the tale himself.

When Hermione reached a good stopping point at the end of a chapter, she marked her place with a piece of paper and closed the book. "It’s getting late, so I suppose I should stop there."

"No!" "What happened next?" "Why did—?" the children complained.

"Sorry, you lot, but it’s late and you need to go to bed soon," she said, delighted by their eager, happy faces. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah!" they cried.

"Good! Thanks for letting me read it to you," Hermione said, smiling warmly at them.

"Will you read us more tomorrow?" "Please, Aunt Hermione!" "We want more!" came the protests from the young ones.

Hermione was laughing now. "All right, I’ll read more to you tomorrow." She glanced shyly at Harry.  "Well?"

He reached across the couch to her and took her hand. "It’s wonderful, Hermione. Really."

"You don’t mind?"

"I mind, but there’s not much point in that, is there? If someone’s going to tell the story, it should be you. You were there for nearly everything, and Ron and I told you about what you didn’t witness yourself," he replied. "Good luck with it. You’re going to be famous in both the wizarding and Muggle world."

"Thanks," she breathed, a delighted grin on her face. "I use a pseudonym for the Muggle editions of my books, since they’re supposed to be fiction. If the author’s name was the same as one of the characters, people might suspect it was real, so ‘Hermione Granger-Weasley’ will only be famous as an author in the wizarding world."

"And we can say we knew you when you were a bushy-haired know-it-all," Ron teased, tugging on his wife’s neatly styled hair. She’d finally found a hair product that tamed her curls into shining waves without a great deal of effort.

She made a face at him and smacked him gently on the leg.

"I think Professor Binns’ classes will be much more entertaining when using your books, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "Good work."

"Thanks," she said, blushing prettily.


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Author Notes:

Watch for Part 2 of the Epilogue next week! And for those who've read my story, "A Very Harry Christmas" and wondered where it fits in this timeline, that story fits just before the section with the "Eleven Years after Jamie and Siri's arrival" header. If you haven't read the Christmas story and want to, you can read it here.