Contractual Dispute

He watched the steady rising and falling of her chest, his own filled with warmth despite the manner in which he had woken. Still, in the peace of his own home, sleep eluded him, the quiet only serving to leave him in a state of alertness where rest was not possible.

For the past week since he had returned home with Minerva and Rosa, they had been inundated with visitors, the only people not doing so thus far being Nicholas and Perenelle, who would be visiting in the coming days.

Tiberius had come along with his wife, as had Frank and Augusta.

Poppy had been four times by Harry's last count, and not a day passed that Robert and Isobel hadn't arrived at the house.

The man was besotted with his granddaughter, almost on the brink of tears whenever he laid eyes on her.

Harry understood that feeling. He found it hard to believe that he had a daughter at all until he looked upon her, the visage staring back at him almost identical to the pictures he had seen of Lily Potter.

It wasn't this, however, that elicited such a strong feeling of uninhibited love within him, but the knowledge that Rosa was the coming together of him and Minerva.

He turned to look at the woman who had brought the babe into the world as she slept peacefully, still recovering from her ordeal, and that same love spread throughout him; doubtless and pure as it was.

This was what he was fighting for, what awaited him when the war was over.

Still, he knew he must go back.

As tempting as it was to just shut the world outside away and live in ignorant bliss, Harry could not do that.

He could not abandon his men, not when they too had fought as hard as he, had bled with him, some even giving their lives.

No, he couldn't and wouldn't even consider such a thing.

"Struggling to sleep again?" Minerva whispered, shifting to wrap her arms around his neck.

"I don't think I will ever sleep peacefully," he murmured. "Especially when I have such the perfect distraction," he added, nodding towards the sleeping babe.

"She is perfect," Minerva agreed, "as quiet as you are."

"Let's just hope she doesn't have the same knack for landing herself in trouble as me," Harry snorted.

Minerva smiled against his neck.

"She might be just like me," she pointed out.

"I bloody hope so," Harry huffed gently.

They fell silent for several moments, both simply watching their daughter.

"You left early yesterday morning," Minerva broke the silence.

Harry nodded.

"I needed to meet with my solicitor to make some adjustments to my will. If anything happens to me, you and Rosa will be taken care of."

Minerva shook her head.

"I would rather you came home, Harry."

Harry swallowed deeply.

"So would I," he agreed, "but it is best to leave no doubts if the worst was to happen."

Minerva released a deep breath, her grip tightening around him possessively.

She said nothing further on the matter, but Harry felt a tear roll down his shoulder.

"I have to go back."

"When?" Minerva choked.

"I have arranged with Petr to stay another two weeks to make sure you're healed," he explained.

Minerva nodded her understanding.

"I love you," he blurted, taking her by the hand. "Both of you."

It took a moment for the realisation to settle in for her, unsure if the words had truly been spoken.

When she had been silent for what she believed to be too long, Minerva slid into Harry's lap.

"I love you," she said sincerely, her heart welling with what it was she felt for the man.

They had been little more than children when they had met some six years prior, had grown together to the people they were now, the journey they had shared having been full of both heartache and utter joy in abundance.

Now, it felt somehow complete, that everything they had endured, the triumphs and losses had led them here, and though there were things Minerva wished had never come to pass, if it led her to this moment, she would not change a single thing.

(Break)

Arcturus read and re-read the missive that had been forwarded to him by Lord Parkinson, unable to believe what it was he had been sent. Either Lord Selwyn was had taken complete leave of his senses or the man had grown tired of life.

The Lord Black was silently fuming, his teeth gritted and his hands trembling in rage.

What was Selwyn playing at.

"I'll murder that bastard," he growled as he took his leave of his room to seek out Charlus.

Dorea would marry one of Selwyn's impotent offspring over his dead body, but it would not be him that would die.

That honour would be reserved for Selwyn, and his entire family if necessary to keep Dorea out of their clutches.

He stomped his way through the streets of Bucharest, his anger on becoming more palpable the more he pondered just what Selwyn had done.

The late Lord Black had signed the contract, but he had not been in his right mind for years.

Not only had Selwyn taken advantage of his father, but he now had the audacity to believe that the transgression would go unpunished, that he would truly emerge from this utter foolishness with his life and house intact.

No, Arcturus would not allow that, even if the man saw the error of his ways before this farce of a contract could be further acted upon.

It was not only the manipulation of his father that infuriated Arcturus, but the unmitigated gall for the man to activate the contract in the first place.

Lord Selwyn would suffer the wrath of the Lord Black, and undoubtedly Charlus who Arcturus spotted leaving his own rooms.

"That look doesn't bode well for someone," the Potter lord snorted.

"Read it," Arcturus urged, handing the man the letter and copy of the contract he'd received.

Charlus's expression darkened, his nostrils flaring.

In all the years that Arcturus had known him, he'd never truly seen Charlus lose his composure, not like he did in this moment.

Still, he read the contract in its entirety before chuckling, though it was not one of amusement.

"He is a stupid bastard," he declared, indicating a small section of text under the 'terms' heading.

Arcturus's own eyes lit up as he read it too, a sinister grin tugging at his lips.

"He couldn't have read this and activated the contract, not unless he is a halfwit."

"This is Selwyn we are discussing," Charlus pointed out.

Arcturus conceded the point with a nod.

"Well, I suppose the only thing to decide is if we are going to pay him off, or fight," he sighed dramatically.

"I choose option two," Charlus declared. "I'll tear his fucking throat out."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"What if I decide I want to do it?"

Charlus shook his head.

"You have a wife and a child on the way. Let me handle this one."

Arcturus admired the man's spirit, but he didn't want to shirk his responsibility.

"I insist," Charlus added with a smile.

Even to Arcturus, it was an unsettling sight, but if Charlus was so readily willing to fight for his sister's hand, who was he to stand in his way?

It mattered not who dealt with Selwyn regarding the contract.

Arcturus would ensure he carved his own pound of flesh from the man, one way or the other.

"He is all yours, for the time being," he replied. "I'll send our reply to Parkinson. I'm sure he will not neglect to tell as many others as he can."

(Break)

"That should just about do it," Gilbert declared as he finished attaching the final door to a cupboard in the kitchen.

"It looks wonderful," Sorina praised gratefully.

Gilbert smiled as he admired his own work.

He never knew he had quite the proclivity towards home improvements, and the satisfaction from having completed the work was incomparable to almost anything else he'd ever done.

The house Sorina had found had not been in the best condition upon purchase, but Gilbert had been here from the very start, ensuring that it was liveable for the woman and her daughter.

He had haggled the price down, and even helped move in what meagre possessions they had left.

Ever since, he had spent the past weeks here, going from room to room to carry out repairs and install new furnishings where needed.

The house itself was only a short walk from the magical district, and were he not here helping the woman, he would have simply been waiting with the other men for instructions on what they would be doing next.

They wouldn't remain in Romania, after all.

Helping Sorina had given him a sense of purpose, but now the work was done.

There was nothing else that required his attention.

"I can't promise my work will last forever," he chuckled, "but it should see you through for now."

"Nonsense," Sorina said dismissively. "Your workmanship is very good."

Gilbert blushed at the praise, something that didn't come to him often.

"Anyway, you have a home now and that's what matters," he replied with a smile. "If there is anything else you need, you know where to find me for the time being."

"For the time being?" Sorina asked with a frown.

Gilbert nodded.

"I don't think we will stay much longer," he sighed. "When Harry is back, he will push to take Bulgaria, and then we will likely head west," he added with a shrug.

"But you are not leaving yet, no?"

"He'll be back in a couple of weeks."

Sorina raised an eyebrow at him.

"Then why are speaking as though you are saying goodbye to me?" she asked.

"Everything is finished," Gilbert pointed out, gesturing around the room.

Sorina shook her head.

"Then the very least I can do is make you dinner, for everything you have done, but it is late now," she sighed dramatically. "I suppose that means you must come back tomorrow."

Gilbert was confused, but he did not miss the smirk that tugged at her lips.

He released a deep breath.

"I'm not a good man to have around," he murmured sadly. "I have spent most of my adult life in one prison or other. I've been a career criminal for as long as I can remember."

"But you are here fighting in a war for the freedom of others," Sorina returned.

"I didn't volunteer for it, not at first."

"At first?"

Gilbert nodded.

"I was given a choice of prison for eighteen months or coming to fight on the continent. I'm tired of prison, so I chose this. I received a letter from the British Ministry three months ago informing me that my penance had been paid and that I could return home."

"But you didn't?"

"I didn't," Gilbert snorted. "I spend most of my days terrified that I'm going to die out here, but I cannot leave. The men here have become my brothers."

Sorina rolled her eyes at him.

"And you cannot see that you are a good man?" she questioned irritably. "Would a rotten one have stayed?"

Gilbert shrugged.

"Why did you? Other than the others you fight with, for what is it you fight?"

Gilbert snorted as he pondered the question.

"The people that are suffering," he answered honestly. "I see too many people like you and Iulia that have had their lives torn apart by Grindelwald."

"That makes you a good man, Derek," Sorina said softly.

"Maybe," Gilbert murmured.

They fell silent for a moment and Sorina shot him a teasing grin.

"And how many people like me have you met, Derek?"

"None," Gilbert answered immediately.

Sorina's teasing expression softened.

"I am grateful for everything you have done," she said sincerely, "even more so for what you have done for Iulia. In the two years since her father was killed, I have not been able to make her smile. Neither of us have had much to smile about. Iulia smiles when you are around, Derek, and so do I. Don't you think it should be me who decides if you are a good man?"

Gilbert did not even put a half-hearted attempt into arguing with the woman. He didn't want to, nor did he believe he would win.

Sorina was as stubborn as anyone he had ever met, and he conceded the point she had made with a nod.

"What time should I be here tomorrow?" he asked with sigh, unable to prevent the smile that formed.

(Break)

Dorea's heart sunk as she read the missive she'd received from her brother containing the contract her father had signed with Lord Selwyn. Despite Arcturus's assurances that he and Charlus were handling the situation, it felt as though her world was crashing down around her.

Why would her father sign such an agreement with the man?

He had never spoken highly of Lord Selwyn, nor any other that carried the name.

It made no sense to Dorea, and the part of the contract that Arcturus had highlighted for her benefit did little to assuage her concerns.

Her brother wouldn't even dream of paying Lord Selwyn off.

No, he would without doubt choose the second option, and though she didn't doubt his ability to emerge victorious from any duel, Selwyn could prove to be cunning or simply cheat.

Judging by his behaviour in having her father sign the contract in his vulnerable state, she would put nothing past him.

Worry not, myself and Charlus will deal with the matter.

They had been the final words written by her brother's hand, and as much faith as she had in them both, Dorea would not relax until to contract had been voided.

She sunk into a chair by the fire.

Just when, for the first time in many years, things seemed to be coming together favourably, something else had come along to intrude upon her happiness.

If she saw Selwyn before, or even after the matter had been resolved, Dorea could not promise herself that she would keep her temper in check.

How dare he attempt such a thing?

She was in no doubt that it had been done purposely when he had learned of the contract between herself and Charlus, a thought that only provoked her anger further.

(Break)

"Oh, she is so beautiful," Perenelle cooed, rocking Rosa in her arms. "You must be so proud."

"We are." Minerva replied with a smile. "She's wonderful."

"She reminds me a little of our Elaine," Perenelle mused aloud. "She was a redhead too."

"You had children?" Harry asked.

"Four," Nicholas answered fondly. "The last of them passed on some four centuries ago. If it weren't for the vivid memories that we revisit often, I would not remember what they looked like."

"They didn't want to live off the elixir?"

The alchemist shook his head.

"Elaine did for some time, but she missed her husband dearly after he died," he explained. "Our two sons and other daughter did not wish to follow in our footsteps."

Harry released a deep breath.

"Sorry, Nic."

The Frenchman waved him off.

"It was all so long ago now," he sighed. "Living forever isn't for everyone. Perhaps it isn't really for anyone," he added with a frown.

"Look, she's smiling," Perenelle giggled.

"No, she's not smiling," Minerva pointed out as she took the babe from the woman. "That just means that…"

Perenelle wrinkled her nose.

"You never forget the smell," Nicholas chuckled amusedly.

"I'll take her," Harry offered, relieving Minerva of their soiled daughter.

"I will come with you," Nicholas declared. "There are things we must discuss."

Harry nodded and led the man from the parlour, up the stairs and towards the nursery.

"You've created a wonderful home, Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"This is all Minerva's work. I've barely been here."

Nicholas nodded his understanding.

"But you will be," he offered encouragingly.

"I will be," Harry agreed.

They spoke little whilst Harry attended to Rosa, Nicholas watching amusedly as he fumbled through the process of changing her nappy and Harry scowling at the man.

It was all still so new to him, but he was getting better.

At least now he was able to do so without putting his hands in anything unpleasant.

"There, that's better," he declared, vanishing the dirty garment, and cradling his daughter.

"Fatherhood suits you," Nicholas chuckled. "When will you be going back?"

Harry released a deep breath.

"Too soon as far as I'm concerned."

Nicholas gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I don't suppose my news will bring you much joy then," he replied irritably. "My investigation into who this Weber is has led to nothing. According to some of my contacts who have heard of him, the man is a ghost, whispered about but never seen."

"I figured as much," Harry snorted. "We have managed to trace his finances to the Swiss branch of Gringotts and have someone watching it, but until he shows up, we can only wait and hope he does."

"A slippery man indeed," Nicholas grumbled. "I don't believe Albus had better luck?"

Harry shook his head.

"Only rumours and speculation," Harry explained. "For now, my attention is in Bulgaria. It's Grindelwald's final stronghold in the east and we should be able to take it soon. I have someone on the inside keeping me updated to developments there."

"And then you will circle back west?"

"That is the plan, but we both know that they can change."

Nicholas nodded and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Have faith, Harry," he urged. "Now, I think we should get this little one back to Perenelle. She does love babies, and I suspect little Rosa has already wormed her way into my wife's heart, just as you did."

Harry chuckled as they left the nursery.

"I think I've already moved down the list of Perenelle's favourite people. It took less than a minute in this one's company for that."

Nicholas laughed heartily as he held out his arms, his patience to get a better look at the babe having finally worn out.

"Being a father is the most special feeling," he murmured. "It changes you in many ways."

"How did it change you?" Harry asked curiously.

"It made me realise that despite being immortal, time is precious. For me, a decade can vanish in the blink of an eye, and in only a handful of them, my children had grown and passed on. A harsh lesson, but one I have not forgotten."

It was not often that Nicholas succumbed to bouts of sadness, but he felt it now, though the sight of Harry's daughter in his arms brought back those long-forgotten paternal feelings.

He felt them for Harry, and for Albus also, but neither had been babes when he had met them.

In a sense, Rosa was his grandchild, and for the first time in several centuries, he felt the warmth that only a child one held dear could bring.

(Break)

The response he had been dreading had come much quicker than anticipated, and Lord Selwyn could not help but believe that his plan had already backfired quite spectacularly.

He had thought that Gellert would have been pleased with his ingenuity, proud that he had taken the initiative, but the man had been dismissive, and even irritated by his actions.

So much for loyalty.

Lord Selwyn had been a loyal man, keeping the Dark Lord abreast of all the happenings within the Wizengamot, and any other developments he felt were poignant, but it appeared that his efforts were not as greatly received as they should be, that his efforts warranted no loyalty in return.

Black had, seemingly without hesitation, chosen the option to fight, and now the Lord Selwyn needed to find himself a champion.

He certainly would not be the one to stand before either the notorious lord or Potter for that matter.

Lord Selwyn had no intention of dying.

Why couldn't Black just accept the marriage contract, or attempt to buy his way out of it?

No, the man would appear to be weak if he had opted for the latter, something he could ill-afford.

Still, there was one beacon of hope to cling to, and that was what brought Lord Selwyn to Bulgaria, into the type of establishment he would never deign to visit back home.

It was here that he spotted the man he sought, seated at a table with a cigar hanging from his mouth and a hand of cards as he gambled.

He seemed to pay no mind to the scantily clad women dancing for the amusement of the men, something Lord Selwyn was pleased with.

It would not do for the man to be distracted.

"Gaulitier," he greeted the man as he took an empty seat next to him.

The large German merely grunted in response, shooting Selwyn a look of irritation.

"Fuck off," he growled.

Selwyn swallowed deeply, but he wouldn't be deterred.

"I have something to discuss with you, something I think you would be quite interested in."

Gaulitier said nothing as he laid his cards, slamming his fist on the table in anger when one of his companions produced a better hand.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

Selwyn swallowed deeply.

"A word, in private."

Gaulitier's nostrils flared.

"Well, there's no point sticking around here," he grumbled, draining a glass of whiskey before throwing it at one of the dancing women who screamed.

Gaulitier laughed as he slapped Selwyn on the back.

"Come on then, I could do with the fresh air."

Selwyn relaxed considerably as Hans led the way out of the bar and into the streets.

"Well, you didn't come here to drink or find a whore," the German growled.

"I didn't," Selwyn agreed. "I came to make a proposition."

Hans looked at him interestedly and gestured for him to continue.

"I have found myself in a spot of bother with the Blacks, and likely the Potters," Selwyn explained. "I find myself in need of a champion to represent me in a duel against one of them."

Gaulitier's eyes lit up.

"Black you say?"

"Or Potter."

Hans chuckled, though he said nothing for a few moments and Selwyn could almost see his mind working.

"What's in it for me?"

"What would you like?"

Hans hummed whilst he scratched his chin.

"I choose the venue, and you will pay me one hundred galleons."

"Done," Selwyn agreed immediately offering his hand.

"Oh, this will be fun," Hans declared as he accepted the proffered limb, his eyes alight with excitement. "Not a word to Gellert," he added firmly.

Selwyn smiled.

"I was going to suggest the same thing," he replied. "He will not like that I came to you."

Hans shook his head.

"He will not," he agreed, "but this war has become very boring. It could certainly use some livening up. Schedule it for a couple of weeks' time. I will be ready then," he added as he walked back towards the bar.

"What about the venue?" Selwyn questioned.

Hans paused, offering what many would deem to be a sickening smile.

"On the border between here and Romania, of course. Why travel any further than necessary? We will have all the witnesses we could ever want. Who knows, maybe it will prove to be exactly what this war needs?"

With that, Gaulitier was gone, and Selwyn swallowed deeply, the final words of the man unsettling him.

Hans was planning something, and Lord Selwyn, though initially relieved, now questioned if he had done the right thing in approaching him.

Still, it was too late now, and all the man could do was hope that the situation was resolved favourably.

Neither Black nor Potter would give him a moment's peace, and the thought of the two Lords hounding him for the remainder of his days was a most unwelcome one.

The thought alone sent quite the shiver down his spine.

(Break)

Eleanor pondered what she had heard whilst clinging to Gaulitier, a particularly dangerous place to be, but one that had seemingly paid dividends, though she was missing some vital information.

Gaulitier had agreed to duel either Black or Potter on behalf of Selwyn and had chosen the border between Bulgaria and Romania to do so.

She couldn't be certain why, but him doing so could not be coincidental.

Often, Gaulitier could be heard bemoaning that the war had become stale, that it needed some zest injected into it, but what was he planning?

Something was not right, and it made the woman feel uneasy.

Anything involving the German elicited that feeling and hearing him so pensive and then gleeful during his conversation with Selwyn was unsettling.

No, she could not simply sit on this information.

If it involved Charlus Potter in any way, Harry would want to know about it, and though Eleanor did not wish to disturb him whilst he was home with his new-born daughter, this seemed to be of the utmost importance.

Scuttling her way out of the bar, she took refuge behind some discarded kegs before transforming and apparating home to send her missive.

When she was done, she poured herself a glass of wine.

The revelation that Harry was expecting a baby had been unexpected, and when she had learned of it, Eleanor had been a little envious, she still was if she was being honest with herself, but ultimately, she was happy for Harry.

Perhaps in another life something more than friendship would have formed between them, but it was not meant to be this time around.

Still, Eleanor was happy to have met him, despite the turbulent life she had endured since.

In truth, he brought her the excitement she had always sought, and though there had been times she had been terrified and wanted nothing more than to return home, she wouldn't change a thing.

For once, she was getting the adventure she wanted whilst doing something worthwhile.

Eleanor had Harry to thank for that, and she knew he appreciated her efforts, though it was unlikely he would feel the same about Gaulitier and whatever his latest ploy may be.

(Break)

Once more Tom found himself residing in the orphanage for the summer months though he did not find himself within the walls often. During the day, he would leave, wandering the streets of London, reading wherever he could find a quiet spot to do so, and doing his utmost to ignore the devastation the German bombs had wrought.

Much to his relief, none had been dropped for some time, but the destruction served as a reminder that if they did, he was vulnerable.

Even the great Harry Evans had almost been killed by muggle artillery. That had been well-documented.

No, Tom was not Harry Evans, he would never be killed in such a crude manner.

Still, he couldn't ignore the vulnerability he felt, how mortal danger could befall him here, and how defenceless he was against such things.

The thought made him shudder, and as much as he tried to reassure himself that it would not happen, he could not shake the feeling.

He despised it, more than he despised Dumbledore and even Evans.

It plagued him, ever-present on the edge of his consciousness, and it instilled a sense of paranoia within the teen.

How could he combat such a thing? How could he ensure that were his body to be destroyed, he could somehow live on?

The human vessel was weak, too fallible for Tom's liking, too prone to injury and disease.

There were steps that could be taken to strengthen it, but his body would one day fail him.

Even with all the incredible magic at his disposal, it was inevitable, the ravages of time and wear an insurmountable foe.

Creating a Philosopher's Stone would solve the issue of illness and natural deterioration, but he could still be killed in a duel, or even by being hit by a bus were he to be so careless.

No, such a thing would be too time consuming to create for himself.

Tom did not wish to spend decades replicating the feat of Nicholas Flamel. He needed a more accessible option, one that made the human body but a commodity to his existence.

It was something he would need to ponder, though he vaguely remembered reading something in one of the library books he had borrowed that may be worth exploring.

He had merely glanced at the text in question in passing, but he was certain it had mentioned something about the soul being the essence of life and how it could be used to preserve it even if the body failed.

Horcruxes?

He believed that was the term he had come across, but he would need to find the book when he returned to Hogwarts.

Tom shook his head as he reached Charing Cross and made his way through The Leaky Cauldron, breathing a sigh of relief as he entered the wizarding world once more.

Here, he did not feel so vulnerable, and it was with good reason he had visited.

With his homework already completed and his reading material almost exhausted, he needed to find something to occupy his time for the rest of the summer.

Without preamble, he turned into Knockturn Alley, ignoring the various unsavoury characters that dwelled here in favour of entering his favourite shop.

There was always something of interest in Borgin and Burke's, the latter of the named owners having taken quite the shine to him during his last visit when Tom had purchased the diary.

"Mr Burke!" he greeted the man enthusiastically.

The man smiled warmly.

"Young Tom," he replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Perhaps you have your eye on another of our trinkets?"

"If only I could afford such luxuries," Tom sighed. "I was hoping that you may have some odd jobs for me to do over the summer?"

His own expression sickened him.

Tom was not one to pander to others or simper, but Burke relished it, so Tom played along.

The man hummed thoughtfully.

"Have you finished all of your schoolwork?" he asked pointedly.

"I have," Tom assured him. "I've even begun reading for next year."

Burke nodded approvingly.

Tom was considerably beyond his fifth-year material, but he wasn't going to tell Burke that. He needed to play the part of the needy, clueless, but bright orphan.

"Well, our storeroom could use organising," Burke mused aloud. "Neither of us have kept up with that for some years."

"How is Mr Borgin?" Tom asked interestedly.

"As pleasant as ever," Burke snorted.

Tom did not like the other owner, and the feeling was evidently mutual. When he had been last, the man had made some rather scathing remarks about Tom's heritage when he'd asked him to inscribe the diary.

"The shop wouldn't be what it is without Mr Borgin's charm."

Burke unleashed a wheeze of laughter.

"You're not wrong, Tom," he replied. "Yes, if you would like to earn a few sickles a week, your help would be much appreciated. Mind, you must promise to be careful and not touch anything you're unsure of," he warned. "Most of the items should be labelled, and anything immediately dangerous will be boxed."

Tom nodded his understanding.

"When would you like me to start?"

Burke offered him a smile.

"There is no time like the present."

Tom returned the gesture and rolled up his sleeves.

If the fool and his partner were so foolish that they hadn't kept an accurate account of what they held, perhaps he may find a few items to liberate for himself.

At the very least, he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts penniless.

(Break)

On its own, the message he'd received from Charlus explaining what had transpired with Lord Selwyn was of little consequence. Harry was aware that disputes with contracts were often settled with a duel or through financial compensation, so he hadn't really thought much of it.

He had merely sent a reply urging the man to tread carefully.

However, this coupled with the latest report from Eleanor was troubling.

With Gaulitier having agreed to serve as Selwyn's champion, the stakes had become higher, and the fight itself a much more dangerous prospect.

Harry had no doubt that Charlus could defeat the man, but Hans Gaulitier had not remained as one of the ICW's most wanted men for as long as he had without reason.

Gaulitier was a dangerous man who had killed several hit-wizards over the years and should not be taken lightly.

Nor could he be trusted to not adopt underhanded means to emerge victorious.

That itself depended on his intent to fight honourably, and why would he?

It would not be his contract he was breaching, so the consequences would not be his to bear.

No, this didn't sit right with Harry, and he would need to plan his own course of action accordingly to counter any possible unpleasantness that may result.

He released a deep sigh.

He would first need to discuss it with Charlus as a matter of urgency.

From there, he would decide his own approach to the problem, and should he be able to turn the situation to his favour, perhaps a desirable outcome could come from this mess.

Until he had pondered it, however, he intended to enjoy a few more days with his daughter.

Entering the bedroom he shared with Minerva, he smiled at the sight of the woman dozing lightly with the babe resting on her chest.

Rosa was awake, her eyes shifting to him as he came into her field of vision.

"Come here then," he whispered as he picked the girl up, cradling her in his arms and simply staring at her.

She yawned as she settled, and Harry smiled.

Rosa was a content child, only fussing if she was hungry or needed to be changed.

That would likely change as she got older, but that was not something Harry could bring himself to think about.

He had missed her birth, and he knew he would miss many more things in the coming months and maybe years.

It broke his heart knowing this, but he did not wish to dwell on it in this moment, not whilst he was here.

"I could get used to seeing that," Minerva's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Me too," Harry agreed. "This parenting thing isn't so hard."

Minerva rolled her eyes at him as she grinned.

"She's not a teenager yet, Harry," she pointed out. "Just remember how I was when we first met."

Harry grinned amusedly.

"Half naked and practicing transfiguration?"

Minerva didn't blush at the memory anymore, but she quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

"Maybe she will be inspired the same way I am."

Harry chuckled.

"I've not seen you practice like that since."

"I was smart enough to find a locked room," Minerva explained. "You had to make do with helping me with my transformations."

"Make do," Harry muttered. "You were quite insistent. I didn't have much choice."

"You didn't complain," Minerva pointed out.

Harry snorted.

"That's true," he conceded. "I wouldn't have dared."

Minerva tutted.

"You act as though you were never given a choice. Am I so bad?"

Harry shook his head and sat on the bed next to her.

"No," he replied sincerely. "We wouldn't be here now if you weren't the way you are. I wouldn't change any of it."

"You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that," Minerva replied. "It's not always been easy, especially for you."

"What do you mean?"

"You knew me as an old woman before you came here," Minerva reminded him.

"I did, but I don't really remember her anymore. You're not the same. There are similarities, but I don't see that woman. To me, you're Minerva, the woman I fell in love with."

Minerva hummed as she shuffled towards him and kissed him on the cheek.

"And the mother of your daughter."

"That too," Harry agreed, "and my wife if you'd like to be."

Minerva froze for a moment before she buried her face into his neck.

It was something Harry had been pondering for some time now, but he hadn't wanted Minerva to think he was doing it only because she had been pregnant.

He needed her to know that he'd wanted this with or without their daughter.

"I would like that more than anything," she whispered.