Harry was having the best sleep he had in months. His head buried deep in his pillow, his breathing steady, the world outside didn't matter. His dreams had taken him back to Hogwarts—carefree days of sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, late-night adventures sneaking around the castle with Ron and Hermione, the thrill of Quidditch soaring through the air. For once, even his dreams weren't haunted—they were warm and golden, the kind you never wanted to wake from.
Then the screaming started.
At first, Harry tried to ignore it. He turned his head on the pillow, muttering groggily. But the voice grew louder—sharp, shrill, unmistakable.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER! HOW DARE YOU!"
Harry's eyes flew open. His heart hammered in his chest. He knew that voice. He knew it.
"Hermione?" he croaked, sitting bolt upright in his bed.
The voice thundered on, every syllable stabbing him awake like icy daggers.
"HOW COULD YOU GIVE MY PARENTS' ADDRESS TO APOLLO OF ALL PEOPLE? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?"
Harry blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it. For half a second, he thought—absurdly—that Hermione had come storming all the way from Britain. His head whipped around, searching the room. No Hermione. No bushy brown hair. No angry face glaring at him from the doorway.
Instead, floating in the middle of his room was a scarlet envelope, split wide open like a jagged mouth, bellowing Hermione's voice with magical fury. A howler.
Harry groaned, pressing his hand over his face.
"Oh, bloody hell…"
The howler didn't wait for him. It never did.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT SORT OF POSITION YOU'VE PUT ME IN? WHAT IF HE JUST WALTZED IN AND ANNOUNCED HE'S THE FATHER? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"
Harry swore under his breath. His mind scrambled—How did a howler get in here? His wards should've stopped it. The only way would be if someone had—
A snicker.
Low, mischievous, utterly unrepentant.
Harry lowered his hand, his green eyes narrowing. He turned toward the corner of the room. And there he was.
Little Teddy, two years old, barely tall enough to peek over the edge of Harry's trunk, his hair shifting from turquoise to lime green in delight as he clutched his sides, giggling. His little round cheeks were flushed pink, and his tiny hands clapped together at his own brilliance.
The howler still screamed, Hermione's magical voice practically shaking the walls.
"DON'T THINK YOU CAN JUST SHRUG THIS OFF, HARRY! I EXPECT AN EXPLANATION THE MOMENT I SEE YOU—"
Harry sighed and lazily flicked his wand, silencing it mid-curse. The charred remains of the letter curled into ash and fell to the floor.
Turning back, he raised an eyebrow at Teddy, who was now rolling on his back, laughing in that sweet, high-pitched baby way.
"So," Harry said slowly, his lips twitching against a smile. "That was your doing, was it?"
Teddy sat up straight, still giggling. He puffed out his chest proudly, pointing at the ashes on the floor.
"Loud letter! Boom!"
Harry barked out a laugh, running his hand down his face.
"Merlin help me… you took it from the mailbox, didn't you?"
Teddy nodded furiously, hair flashing bright gold like a victory flag.
"Boom! Da' boom!"
Harry shook his head, torn between exasperation and pride.
"You little rascal. Setting it right by my bed while I was asleep? Classic prank. You're already following your father's footsteps."
Teddy clapped again, clearly delighted that Harry understood.
"Da' silly! Da' jump!" he squealed, mimicking how Harry had sat up in shock.
Harry couldn't help it—he burst out laughing too. He reached over, scooped Teddy up, and ruffled his ever-changing hair.
"I should be furious with you. But honestly… I'm proud. You've got mischief in your blood, kid. Just like your father."
Teddy giggled and wrapped his little arms around Harry's neck, pressing his face into his shoulder. His voice muffled but sweet.
"Da' boom funny."
Harry kissed the top of his head, sighing.
"Yeah, yeah. Funny. Remind me never to underestimate you again."
The hum of the airplane engines was steady and low, almost like the whisper of a lullaby. Harry leaned back in his seat, gazing out at the streaks of white clouds rolling past the window. It had been more than two and a half years since he had last set foot in Britain. Two and a half years since he had made the choice to leave behind everything familiar—his friends, the castle that had raised him, and the scars of a war he never asked to fight. America had become his sanctuary, a place where he could live for himself, and more importantly, live for Teddy.
But the ties of the past were never truly severed. Today proved that.
Teddy sat in the seat beside him, small legs kicking impatiently, a stuffed kneazle toy clutched in his hands. His hair, always unruly, shifted colors from turquoise to sandy brown as his excitement bubbled over. He leaned forward, peering out the window.
"'Re we there yet, Daddy?" Teddy asked, his words tumbling over themselves in the way only a two-year-old's could.
Harry smiled and ruffled his godson's hair. "Not yet, little man. Still a bit more flying. Remember, we have to go across the whole ocean first."
Teddy frowned in the exaggerated way only toddlers managed, his bottom lip sticking out. "Big 'cean too long."
Andromeda gave a small laugh from her seat across the aisle. The years had been kind and unkind to her all at once. Her back was straighter, her eyes clearer, but the grief that had carved itself into her soul during the war still lingered, softened only by the presence of her grandson.
"Patience, Teddy," she said warmly. "It's worth the wait. We're going to see your Mummy and Daddy's resting place."
Teddy blinked up at her, confused. "Mummy? Daddy? Like storybook?"
Harry's chest tightened. At Teddy's age, "parents" were still just words he repeated, ideas he clutched at without truly understanding. He reached out and squeezed Andromeda's hand briefly, a silent thank-you for saying what Harry himself found difficult.
"Yes, storybook," Harry said gently. "We'll go say hello. They'd be very proud of you."
The rest of the flight passed in a blur of small interruptions—Teddy insisting he needed a biscuit, Teddy demanding to sit on Harry's lap, Teddy falling asleep halfway through a picture book Athena had given him. But beneath it all was the silent weight pressing on Harry's heart.
When the plane finally touched down, the grey skies of Britain greeted them. It smelled of damp earth and rain even inside the airport, so different from the crisp air of America. Harry carried Teddy, who was half-asleep on his shoulder, while Andromeda clutched their bags. They moved quietly, deliberately, avoiding eyes and attention.
Their destination was not a bustling city nor a warm welcome. It was a cemetery.
The graveyard lay quiet, only the rustling of leaves breaking the silence. Harry's boots sank slightly into the wet ground as he walked, Teddy balanced against his hip, wide-eyed but quiet now. Andromeda's steps slowed as they reached the row of stones.
There it was.
James Potter. Lily Potter.
Side by side, names carved into weathered stone.
And just beyond them, another marker, simple but steadfast: Sirius Black.
Harry swallowed hard. He remembered digging through Sirius's belongings—his clothes, his old Gryffindor scarf, even that ridiculous set of motorbike goggles. He had placed them inside the coffin, sealing away the remnants of a life that had been cut short in battle.
Teddy wriggled in his arms. "Down, Daddy."
Harry set him down gently, watching as Teddy toddled forward, his tiny hand brushing against Lily's grave. He looked up at Harry, eyes wide and confused.
"They sleep?" Teddy whispered.
Harry knelt down beside him, voice thick. "Yes, Teddy. They're… sleeping. They can't wake up, but they can still hear us."
Teddy frowned, his little hand patting the stone as if trying to wake it. "Hi, Granpa. Hi, Gramma. I Teddy."
Andromeda pressed a hand to her mouth, tears streaming silently down her face. Harry felt something break inside him at the sight, but he forced a smile for Teddy's sake.
"You did good," Harry said softly, brushing Teddy's hair. "They know who you are now."
When they moved to Sirius's grave, Teddy tilted his head. "Siri?"
Harry laughed through the lump in his throat. "Yes. Sirius. He was my godfather, just like I'm yours. He loved you very much, even though you were just a baby when he left us."
Teddy, in his innocent way, picked up a small flower from the ground and set it on the grave. "For Siri. Pretty."
Harry felt his vision blur.
Andromeda stepped forward then, kneeling before the stone marked Nymphadora Tonks Lupin. Remus Lupin. Her hands trembled as she touched their names. Her daughter. Her son-in-law. The family she lost.
"My Dora," she whispered brokenly. "My little girl."
Teddy, not fully understanding, toddled up beside her and touched the stone too. "Mummy," he said simply, and then, looking to the other, "Daddy."
Harry stood back, letting them have that moment. His own heart was heavy, but as he looked around—at Andromeda kneeling, at Teddy tracing the letters with his chubby fingers—he realized this was what mattered. Not the pain of loss, but the connection that still lived on.
They stayed there until the sky began to darken, the air cooling around them. And when they finally left, Harry carried Teddy in his arms again, the little boy's head resting against his shoulder.
"Daddy?" Teddy mumbled sleepily.
"Yes, Teddy?"
"D'you think… Mummy, Daddy, Siri… watch me?"
Harry pressed a kiss to his hair, his voice low but certain. "Always, Teddy. Always."
And as they walked out of the graveyard, Harry felt, for the first time in years, not just the weight of the past but also its quiet blessing.
The air in Grimmauld Place felt thick with memory when Harry, Andromeda, and Teddy stepped inside. The familiar creak of the old floorboards welcomed them, though the house had changed in subtle ways since Harry last set foot here. The gloom of the Black family home still lingered in its bones, but the oppressive darkness was tempered now. The carpets had been beaten clean, the wood polished until it gleamed, and the ancient draperies replaced with simpler but warmer hangings. Harry noticed immediately that it didn't feel quite as suffocating as it once had.
The echo of small feet broke through his thoughts. Teddy darted into the hallway, his wide eyes taking everything in.
"Daddy! Look!" Teddy tugged on his sleeve, pointing at the mounted heads of the Black family's elves that still lined the corridor. "They're creepy—but Kreacher's here, right?"
Before Harry could answer, a familiar, raspy voice came from the shadows.
"Master Harry," Kreacher croaked, stepping into the light. His wrinkled face broke into something that was not quite a smile but as close as he ever came. His eyes softened when they fell on Teddy. "And young master Teddy. Kreacher thought… Kreacher thought he would not see you again so soon."
"Kreechaaaaa!" Teddy squealed, racing forward. He threw his little arms around the elf, who stiffened in surprise but then patted Teddy awkwardly on the back.
"Kreacher missed you," the elf admitted in a whisper. "The boy was always polite… unlike some," he added, giving Harry a pointed look.
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice to see you too, Kreacher."
Andromeda stepped forward more gracefully, her eyes shining with a sadness Harry understood all too well. She had buried too many people she loved. "You've done a fine job, Kreacher," she said softly, brushing her hand over the polished banister. "The house looks… alive again."
Kreacher's chest swelled, and for a moment, Harry thought he looked almost proud. "Kreacher keeps Master Black's house ready. Always ready. It is Kreacher's duty."
"Then you've done well," Harry said sincerely. He glanced around again. The rooms gleamed with a cleanliness that had never been present during the Order's days here. Even the portrait of Mrs. Black, notorious for her screaming tirades, seemed strangely silent tonight. Perhaps Kreacher had done something to mute her forever.
Teddy, meanwhile, was bouncing with excitement. "Kreacher, remember you made hot cocoa? With cinnamon?"
Kreacher nodded solemnly. "Of course. Kreacher remembers."
"You do it again? Please?" Teddy clasped his little hands together, eyes shining.
The elf grumbled but disappeared with a crack, and Teddy giggled. "He like me best!"
Harry ruffled his hair. "Don't let it go to your head. He'll spoil you rotten if you're not careful."
Andromeda laughed softly, her voice tinged with weariness. "Better spoiled than ignored. That boy deserves all the love he can get."
Harry met her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of everything they had lost—Remus, Tonks, Sirius, his parents—pressed down on him. He swallowed and forced a small smile.
"Then we'll make sure he gets it," Harry said firmly.
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