In Bloom

It had been some time since Arcturus had been in the Wizengamot chambers. Although the war had ended close to two months prior, Lord Parkinson had continued to remain as his proxy.

The Lord Black had been making up for lost time with his wife and sons for the most part but had also frequented the continent to assist with the much-needed relief work in the wake of Grindelwald's occupation.

Many others had done the same, the thought of simply returning home whilst the work was ongoing not sitting right with most.

Today, however, he found himself as an honoured guest of wizarding Britain where he and several others were to receive a commendation for their part in the war.

For Arcturus, shaking hands with the Minister whilst being presented with a small piece of metal seemed ridiculous when such an insignificant trinket represented such upheaval, violence, and loss.

Nevertheless, he was proud to be recognised along with those that had become his brothers in a way that none who had not experienced war could understand.

Seated to his left on a dais that had been built for the ceremony was Charlus, and next to him Harry who was doing all he could to not draw any attention to himself.

Arcturus shook his head.

Not a pair of eyes had left the man since he had arrived.

Next to Harry was Petr Sokolov whose expression was guarded as his eyes swept across the public gallery, and the area filled with members of the press.

On Arcturus's right was Yaxley and Gilbert, the latter unable to look more out of place if he tried.

Arcturus imagined the only time he had visited one of the chambers in the depth of the Ministry was when he had been on trial for one of his many misdemeanours over the years.

The men sat in silence, waiting for the Minister to begin the ceremony.

It was surreal being here, and Arcturus was still adjusting to civilian life.

With Melania and his children to keep him grounded, he was not suffering the lingering effects of spending so long in mortal peril, but that didn't mean everything had gone smoothly.

He tried to not focus on his woes, but it was not easy to do so when one in particular occupied his mind so often, something that as much as he wished to, he couldn't simply ignore.

Flashback

Lord Parkinson had been thorough in his overseeing of the Black family affairs in Arcturus's absence. The man had made some intelligent investments on his behalf and ensured the financials had been kept up to date.

He had even gone as far as to document the main talking points and required votes of each Wizengamot session, something Arcturus was grateful for.

Parkinson would be rightly compensated for his invaluable assistance.

Pushing the stack of parchment he had been poring over aside, Arcturus rubbed his eyes and checked the clock in his study.

He had inadvertently worked through lunch, and he took his leave of the room to find his wife.

Whilst he had been away, Melania had remained living with her parents, but now that he was back, their marriage could truly begin as it should be.

Orion and Cygnus each had their own rooms now courtesy of the efforts of Elgar, and until Dorea and Charlus were married, the woman was living with them.

She doted on her nephews and Arcturus had no doubt that she would be a wonderful mother, much like their own before she had been taken from them too soon.

"Why didn't you send for me?" he asked Melania who was playing with Orion in the main living room of the house as he entered.

"Because your attention would have still been on your work," his wife replied, smiling as Arcturus kissed her on the cheek.

Arcturus snorted, unable to deny the accusation.

"Well, I'm done for the day," he declared.

"Good, then you can feed Cygnus."

Arcturus smiled as he retrieved his younger son from his Moses basket and cradled him in his arm.

From his dark hair, pale complexion, and grey eyes, the boy was a Black through and through.

Arcturus chuckled as Cygnus stared up at him curiously, though his eyes closed as he placed the bottle to his lips and the babe suckled at it hungrily.

This was what life should be, not fighting in unfamiliar lands.

For several moments, Arcturus stood in silence, enjoying the mundanity of feeding his son as he rocked him from side to side.

"You're back early," he said with a frown as Dorea entered. "What's wrong?"

The woman looked as though she had seen a ghost.

Somehow, her skin was paler than normal, and her eyes filled with a mixture of shock and worry.

"You'd better come with me to the hospital," Dorea replied. "They found Cassie. She's not in a good way."

Melania took Cygnus and shot him the same look of worry as his sister.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

Arcturus breathed in deeply.

It was a question he couldn't answer in this moment.

"Bad way?" he questioned Dorea.

"They won't let me see her, but she was taken to the Janice Thickey Ward."

Arcturus nodded his understanding.

"Let's go."

Dorea didn't need telling twice and followed him from the room and out of the house where Arcturus took her by the arm and apparated them away.

Without breaking stride, he crossed the street from the alleyway and entered St Mungo's.

"I want to know where my sister is," he said in a no-nonsense tone to the woman seated behind the desk in the reception area.

"If you take a seat, someone will be with you shortly," the woman replied, not looking up from the note she was writing.

Arcturus's nostrils flared in irritation, and he slammed his hand on the desk making the woman jump.

"I wasn't asking," he growled.

The woman's eyes widened in surprise and Dorea shot her colleague an apologetic look.

"I will send for someone immediately, Lord Black," the receptionist assured him before rushing from her seat to do so.

Arcturus ignored the stares of the other people seated in the waiting area, and the comforting squeeze of his younger sibling.

"Lord Black?" a man in healer robes addressed him as he arrived through a set of double doors. "Please, follow me."

Arcturus did so with Dorea trailing slightly behind.

"My name is Healer Douglas, and I am in charge of the Janice Thickey ward," the healer introduced himself.

"How is my sister?" Arcturus asked.

The healer released a deep sigh as he shook his head.

"She is malnourished and mostly unresponsive," he explained. "She is rambling to herself and is exhibiting sudden bouts of violent anger. We have given her a strong calming drought, but we have not yet managed to diagnose her. That could take some time."

Arcturus nodded his understanding as he was shown into the infamous ward that housed the more difficult magical maladies.

"We have taken the precaution of placing her in a secure room," Healer Douglas informed him. "I will allow you in, but I must insist that you do not antagonise her. We have taken her wand but people in her condition have been known to have quite volatile magic."

"I won't antagonise her," Arcturus promised, though he still couldn't be certain how he would react to seeing her again. "How did she get here?"

"She was found in Austria by a group of cursebreakers and ICW guards working on Grindelwald's prison. She was quite delirious. One of the men recognised her and stunned. It was Monsieur Abreo who had her sent here."

"I see," Arcturus murmured. "Who knows about her presence?"

"I have told no one," the healer replied as he opened the door with a tap of his wand and gestured for Arcturus to enter.

The Lord Black had been prepared to feel an overwhelming rage at the sight of his older sister, but as he looked upon her emaciated frame, and pale skin, he felt only pity.

This wasn't the rambunctious and strong-willed girl he had spent his childhood with, nor was she the passionate, stubborn woman he had seen her become over the past few years.

Whatever Cassiopeia had endured had broken her body, and as her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him confusedly, he realised it had broken her mind also.

"Arcturus?" she whispered.

Arcturus released a deep breath as he nodded.

"You're safe," he assured her. "You're in St Mungo's."

Cassiopeia frowned as she licked her cracked lips.

"Gellert?"

"Is dead," Arcturus answered coldly. "His regime has collapsed, and he is rotting in the ground."

Instead of anger, Cassiopeia burst into tears and hid herself under the duvet.

"No," she sobbed. "He can't be."

For several moments, Arcturus watched her, and his mind shifted to everything he had ever read about the madness that plagued his family from time to time.

It was not something he ever expected to face, but there was no doubt in his mind that Cassiopeia was suffering with it.

"Stupid woman," he muttered.

She had allowed her emotions to get the better of herself to the extent that she lost touch with reality. That coupled with the nature of the Black magic was a recipe for disaster, and what Cassiopeia had become was the product of that.

With a shake of his head, Arcturus left the room.

"You should inform the aurors of her presence," he said to Douglas who had waited for him. "They will likely want her guarded and I would appreciate regular updates of her condition."

"Of course, Lord Black," Douglas complied shooting him a look of uncertainty.

Arcturus did not comment further and made his way towards the exit.

"The aurors, Arcturus?" Dorea asked sharply.

Arcturus nodded.

"She is sick now, and she may never get better, but she wasn't when she chose to follow him," he replied. "She either faces justice the official way, or when Evans finds out she is here, he will seek it himself. What do you think will be better for our family?"

Dorea was upset, but she could find no reason to argue with him.

"Cassie made her choices," Arcturus sighed as he took her arm. "I can't protect her fully from what she did, but I can at least keep her alive. That's the best she can hope for. I'm not willing to do any more than that for her, not after everything she has done."

End Flashback

Arcturus had informed Harry himself of Cassie's condition, and the conversation had gone as well as expected.

The man had agreed that the woman should face the justice system but was adamant that if Arcturus failed to see it done, that Harry would ensure she was no longer a threat.

Arcturus had taken the warning for what it was and accepted the rigid terms.

"Receiving the Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his efforts throughout the duration of the conflict, Derek Gilbert."

The voice of the Minister pulled Arcturus from his thoughts, and he applauded his friend as he walked warily to the podium where he was presented with his award.

Gilbert waved to the cheering crowd before promptly returning to his seat.

"Also, to receive an Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his unwavering diligence to his men and his duty is our Second in Command to our forces. That man is Mr Reginald Yaxley."

Once more, the crowd broke out into a welcoming applause as Reg approached and accepted his award before offering a bow and returning to his seat.

"Our final recipient of the Order of Merlin, Second Class, for demonstrating outstanding courage and valour in the face of danger is Lord Arcturus Orion Black," the Minister announced.

Arcturus remained stoic as he accepted his honour and nodded respectfully towards the crowd and gathered Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot.

Receiving an Order of Merlin in any form was a privilege, but in the grand scheme of things and everything he and every other man that fought had endured, it meant little.

Arcturus retook his seat and looked at the medal, a frown creasing his brow.

If any had asked if he would have experienced what he had for his name to become nothing more than a footnote of history in years to come, he would have said no.

"Now, we move on to the awards for the Order of Merlin, First Class," Minister Fawley spoke once more. "Our first recipient is not one of our own, but he fought beside our men and proved himself to be a most loyal ally when he and his people were needed most. Russia could have simply closed off their borders, but they chose to answer the call, and as such, this man demonstrated excellent leadership and consistent bravery whilst leading his men from the front. Today, we welcome him to Britain to receive our most prestigious award in gratitude for all he has done. I present to the Commander of the Russian forces and Second in Command of the collective army that fought off Grindelwald, Petr Sokolov."

The Russian stood in his red robes and shook Fawley's hand firmly as he accepted his medal, the crowd cheering for him as much as they had their own.

Petr's exploits during the war were well documented, and he had earned the respect of the people that would usually be wary of him.

There was no sign of caution, and the Russian even cracked a smile as he waved before returning to his seat next to Harry.

"The final recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, is a man who became the Commander of our forces and served us all so proudly until the very end. Upon the death of his father, he did not cower nor hide, but he stepped up when he was needed," Fawley spoke when the crowd had fallen silent. "He has proven to be an excellent Commander and is responsible for ridding the world of the infamous and equally dangerous, Hans Gaulitier. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Lord Charlus Potter."

The applause that followed the announcement was quite deafening and Charlus retrieved his award as humbly as any who knew him would expect.

He had lost much during the war, but he had persevered and represented the morals of his family with honour.

Arcturus was proud to call all of those he'd served with brother, but soon enough, Charlus would truly become just that.

(Break)

Life had become no less busy for Charlus since the fighting had ceased. He'd returned to Britain and to the duties of the Lord of his family, had been back and forth to the continent to assist where he could, and had begun his wedding preparations with Dorea.

They were hoping the ceremony would take place shortly after the coming Christmas, a day that whenever it happened, Charlus couldn't wait for.

His mother had chosen to continue living in the Caribbean for the time being, a decision that Charlus was not pleased with, but he understood.

Having spent much of his time in Britain in the home he had grown in with his parents, the absence of his father was glaring.

With going to war and trying to hold everything together, he hadn't truly had time to acknowledge the day to day without the man, and Charlus was not ashamed to admit that he was lost.

William Potter had taught him well, had shown him how to fulfil all of his lordly responsibilities, but still, Charlus did not feel ready.

Thus far, he had taken each day as it came, and that was all he felt he could do.

Today, however, was not so much about being Lord Potter as it was about being the Commander of the British forces, and as his name was called and the applause rang out, he stood as a war veteran, a man who had survived a conflict where many others had fallen.

As he passed Harry, he shot him a look of gratitude.

Along with Arcturus, Reg, and Gilbert, the five of them had been there for each other when they had needed it most.

To Charlus, Harry was the reason the war had been won. Without him, he knew not what they would have done, but he was certain they would still be fighting, still grinding for a victory against Grindelwald.

Accepting his award, he felt a sense of pride fill him, but he would give every ounce of it up to have his father back.

Charlus swallowed deeply as he made his way back to his seat, taking comfort in the squeeze of the shoulder Harry gave him.

"Finally, there is one other that we must honour," Minister Fawley said.

The crowd began whispering excited amongst themselves as many craned their necks to get a better look at Harry.

"Already, this man has received the Order of Merlin, First Class, for his outstanding contribution to the war effort from the very beginning, and now, we truly get to show our appreciation. Today, we present a peerage to a man who led the combined ICW forces during the war, and to the man who defeated Grindelwald in what we have learned was a duel for the ages. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, Commander in Chief, Baron Harry Evans."

The applause for Harry was thunderous with not a single person in the Wizengamot chambers staying in their seat.

The man himself stood, his mere presence felt from the simple gesture, his eyes cool, but barely concealing the continuous fire within.

For a moment, Charlus forgot that this was the same boy he had shared a dorm with, the same orphan he had brought home for Christmas, the same man who had comforted him after the death of his father.

Harry had become an enigma to most, but not to Charlus.

Although he was quite a mysterious figure that instilled a sense of awe within all, he was still Harry; the father, the friend, and one of the kindest men Charlus had the pleasure of knowing.

"Being made a Baron of our land is the most prestigious title a wizard can receive, and I'm sure there are none that would disagree that Commander Evans deserves it," Fawley continued. "As a Baron, he is granted a seat on the Wizengamot and is named as a protector of Great Britain," he finished, pinning the medal to Harry's robes next to the several others the man had been graced with.

After a nod from the Minister, Harry stood behind the podium and waited for the latest wave of applause to die down before he addressed the room.

"I'd like to start by saying that it truly is my privilege to receive this honour today, but I would be remiss in my duties if I did not mention the sacrifices made by every man who chose to fight for what is right," Harry began solemnly. "Many lost their lives, and those that survived will never forget what it was we saw and endured during the years of fighting. Whether you were there or not, you should never forget."

The crowd murmured amongst themselves at the sombre address.

"The fallen will be honoured as a reminder of the sacrifices made, as will those that made it home, and although the war is over, it doesn't mean that we will forever be left in peace. Others will come to try their hand at subjugating us to their whims, but so long as there is air in my lungs and I can grasp my wand, I will stand between them and their desires. You have my promise."

The crowd cheered once more at the ominous words given by Harry, taking his words at face value, but Charlus could not help but think there was more to what Harry was saying than merely a humble promise.

It mattered not.

For now, the fighting was done and each of them had a future to look forward to.

If that future presented a cause in which they would need to rally behind, then so be it.

Charlus would worry about that when the need arose.

(Break)

The remainder of the summer had been nerve-wracking for Tom to say the least. After his venture to Little Hangelton had ended the way it had, he had kept his head down, though he was certain that the aurors would be looking for him.

The first few days after the incident had been filled with trepidation, and he took to listening to the muggle news on the radio for any mention of what had occurred.

There was nothing, and the more days that passed, the more he relaxed.

At first, he couldn't believe he had gotten away with it, but with the muggle war still ongoing, the death of a family in a small village was hardly of national interest, not when the case itself was seemingly solved so easily.

The gardener that caught him would be blamed, and none would look too closely into the matter when he was found with the murder weapon still in hand.

As such, Tom did not hesitate to board the Hogwarts Express and return to the castle for his final year of schooling.

The news that the wizarding war had come to an end so suddenly was quite surprising, but it was the knowledge that Harry Evans had killed Grindelwald that disappointed the teen.

It was an irksome revelation, though something that would only make his killing of the man all the more pleasurable.

Evans may have bested Grindelwald, but he would not have the same success with Tom.

When he was ready, Evans would feel the full wrath of the heir of Slytherin, and any accolade and glory he had obtained would be all but forgotten.

Tom would ensure the world only remembered Evans as the man that was ended by Tom Marvolo Riddle.

He grimaced at the thought of his name, the disgust he felt of sharing it with such a pathetic muggle sickening and filling him with shame.

It was something he had pondered for the past few years, but the time had come now for him to create his own name and carve his own destiny off the back of it.

"Tom, are you paying attention?"

The voice of Dumbledore pulled Tom from his thoughts, and he shot the man a glare as he nodded.

Dumbledore met his gaze unwaveringly, not even trying to hide the ever-present disappointment he showed in him.

"Yes, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded stiffly and continued his lecture, and Tom took a moment to imagine what it would be like to kill the man.

The same sense of excitement he felt as he had controlled the gardener during the murder of his family rose within his once more, and the teen smiled, an expression that shifted as he met the stare of Professor Evans.

His lip curled in distaste at the sight of her.

She had married the man that had tried to kill him, birthed his bastard daughter, and had been a thorn in Tom's side since he arrived at the castle.

The woman was Dumbledore's stooge, his protégé that was like him in so many ways, but more importantly, she was the wife of the man he had come to despise above all others.

Evans had besmirched Salazar's chamber, had stolen his family magic, and had styled himself as The Serpent.

Those thoughts alone made Tom's jaw tighten.

Soon enough, he would rectify one of those transgressions, but until then, he would have to be satisfied with the knowledge of what the future held.

Evans.

Every road would lead to the man, and all it would take was a little patience.

Tom had things he needed to achieve before he truly turned his attention to his foe, but when the day finally came, he would not hesitate to exact his revenge.

(Break)

Pierre Abreo had respected Harry's wishes to be allowed a respite from attending the ICW meetings for several weeks, and even insisted that he delegated the task of overseeing the relief efforts on the continent so that he may catch up on lost time with Minerva and Rosa.

That respite, however, had come into question upon the ICW receiving the surrenders of Austria and Hungary, respectively.

The ensuing gathering had been tense, and Harry witnessed just how contentious the body could be.

As he had expected, the meeting was called to discuss what would become of the two countries moving forward, their places within the ICW itself, and what sanctions would be imposed upon them for their part in Grindelwald's uprising.

The affair had quickly become rather ugly with many calling for harsh punishments to be administered to act as a deterrent to each nation.

Not all were in agreement with this approach, the most vocal having been the Russian minister.

Sokolov had been furious that the ICW wished to impose crippling economic sanctions on the two countries and had pointed out that it would be only the people that suffered.

Most members of the ICW didn't seem to care, each country seemingly wanting to carve a pound of flesh for themselves.

It disgusted Harry to see men and women he had come to respect acting like vultures, willing to pick a corpse clean.

He too had been vocally furious at the suggestion and had reminded them why the muggles were currently at war after Germany had received a similar treatment only decades prior.

His anger had sobered many, but there were still those who would not be mollified.

Harry had voiced his disgust and disappointment a final time before taking his leave from the chamber and returning home.

That had been almost a month ago, and he had heard nothing on the matter since, not from Abreo, nor announced in the media.

Such silence either meant that the ICW would act as they pleased but do so quietly, or discussions were still being held.

Harry knew not, but he had received a request this morning to attend a meeting with the Supreme Mugwump, and though he was tempted to ignore it, he had decided to be present.

If he could prevent anything untoward happening on the continent, he would.

He didn't believe that Hungary and Austria should simply be let off the hook, but he did not wish to see them suffer unjustly and provoke further hostility in the future.

Upon entering the ICW building, he was shown to Abreo's office where, much to his surprise, he was greeted not only by the Frenchman, but also the Russian Minister.

"Thank you for joining us, Commander Evans," Abreo said, a strained smile cresting his lips.

His years in power had not been kind to him.

His hair had greyed considerably, and the lines in his face had deepened, giving him the appearance of a much older man than Harry knew him to be.

"Evans," Sokolov acknowledged with a stiff nod.

"I gather that you asked me here to discuss something important?" Harry returned.

His tone was cordial enough, but he would be lying if he did not still feel some resentment after the last meeting he had attended.

"Indeed," Abreo confirmed. "We have asked you here to offer you another opportunity to work with us."

"I'm not interested in the Department of Justice," Harry sighed irritably.

Abreo held up a hand to silence him.

"No, we got the message, Commander. The Department of Justice is something we must address another time. I'm sure you heard that Nurmengard was recently liberated?"

Harry nodded.

The news had been broken in Britain the previous week.

"Those housed within will require extensive treatment to overcome their experience, but we are confident they can be helped. Fox will be given a full pension and sent home, but we will discuss the future of the department when necessary. No, what we wish to discuss with you is a new position, one where you will not only be employed by the ICW, but by the Russian Ministry of Magic too."

"What position?" Harry asked with a frown.

"We would like you to function as an emissary between Russia, and the ICW," Sokolov broke in. "It has become clear to us that even though we were able to co-exist during the war, that our values are still so very different. Abreo and I have discussed it, and we do not wish to find ourselves at odds with one another. We believe that with you acting as a mediator between us, we can avoid any unpleasantness."

Harry looked between the two men questioningly.

"Russia has no wish to become a member, and we would be unwilling to accept them given our glaring differences," Abreo explained. "However, we wish to remain on good terms, and would look to create a new agreement between us and them, for the benefit of both."

"And you want me to do what exactly?" Harry asked. "If you decide you're going to disagree on everything, there's nothing I can do."

"On the contrary," Abreo disagreed, "there is much that you can do. You are highly respected amongst the Russians and the members of the ICW. If you were willing to, you would be the most valuable asset we have to create and maintain a prospective agreement between us. You would be required to meet with the ICW as you are already accustomed to, and with the Russian Minister to conduct talks on each of our behalf."

"It could avoid much unpleasantness in the future," Sokolov added. "Already, your intervention has seen that the ICW are willing to slacken their intended sanctions on Austria and Hungary, and we are close to agreement with what shall be done with them. Without you, Evans, I would have been ignored and the ICW would have gone ahead with their initial wishes. In turn, I would have been inclined to refuse to remove my men from the border of Hungary until they saw sense."

Harry released a deep breath at the proclamation, and the reason for the tension between the two men became apparent.

Although Harry agreed with the Russian in this instance, it did show him just how volatile the relationship between them and the ICW was.

Another war could have broken out had both sides not seen sense, and that was something that must be avoided.

With a sigh, Harry nodded.

"I'll do it," he agreed, "but there are some concessions that I must insist on."

The Russian and Frenchman both relaxed at his declaration, and the latter nodded eagerly.

"Then let us discuss your terms, Commander Evans," he suggested. "We are both quite keen for you to take up the position."

(Break)

He had tried his best to get past what had happened here, but try as he might, he couldn't and Albus knew for the truth to sink in so that he may live his life in peace, he had to come.

The ground that thousands of men had stomped across only months before was showing signs of life. A thick, lush grass had begun to grow underfoot, but the damage that marred the land was not so easily hidden.

Where Harry and Gellert had fought, there was no new life, only ugly scars that cut deeply into the ground, and Albus could only imagine the violence that had taken place to leave the land so barren.

Releasing a deep breath, he walked across it, surveying each crater, split and crack, determining what had happened, shivering as even now, the remnants of magic that had been cast here still lingered.

Each new spell that made itself known to him painted only a worse picture than he'd already had in his mind, but he had faced it, and he could begin mourning properly.

He did not miss the man that Gellert had become, nor did he pine for the friend he had once been, but it was difficult not to lament on what they had once shared and what better decisions could have led to.

Turning back the way he came, he paused in the centre of the field, frowning as he crouched down and brushed aside the upper most level of soil.

Beneath, he found the beginnings of a sapling, not a simple blade of grass, but a familiar plant that his mother once grew in their garden when he was a boy.

He remembered this one because she'd always warned him, Abe, and Ariana to be careful of the thorns as it grew larger.

"Roses," he murmured to himself, a slight smile cresting his lips as he swept aside more dirt nearby to reveal another sapling.

By the time he was done, he realised there were dozens of them, ready to grow and bloom to bring some beauty to the ugliness that had unfolded here.

It did not remedy the feel of loss within Albus, but if even here, where the most unpleasant of things had occurred, life could go on, then all was not lost.

Whether it was merely a coincidence or divine intervention that brought the flowers here, it gave Albus hope that life could indeed be found after death.

(Break)

It had taken several hours of negotiations, ironing out the details of his post, but an accord had finally been reached between Harry, Abreo, and Sokolov. For the most part, Harry would work from Britain, attending meetings only when required so that he could continue to care for Rosa whilst Minerva was at Hogwarts.

She returned home daily, but that wasn't something the Russian and Frenchman needed to know.

Harry had been away for too long and having missed much of the first two years of Rosa's life, he refused to miss any more.

His salary would be paid equally by the ICW and the Russian Ministry so that he was not beholden to either of them when it came to performing his duties, and he would return to ICW meetings with the same level of authority as the other representatives.

He had been reluctant to agree with this, but as both Abreo and Sokolov had pointed out, it would be beneficial for him to have an in-depth understanding of points of discussion he may need to raise with either of them.

Much of the meeting had been quite tedious, and at times, Harry was reminded of just how Dumbledore had several titles and responsibilities thrust upon him after he had defeated Grindelwald.

He shook his head of those thoughts as he arrived home.

He wasn't Dumbledore, and he didn't doubt his ability to say no to anything that he did not wish to be a part of.

He had made the exception for this post only because both Abreo and Sokolov did not wish for the already fragile relationship between Russia and the ICW to deteriorate into something it had once been where the two entities were on the brink of war.

Harry could respect that and was willing to ensure it didn't happen.

His life had been one constant war in some form or other, and he wanted nothing more than a semblance of peace, for a while at least.

"How did it go?" Minerva questioned as he entered the parlour room with the view of the grounds.

This had become her favourite room, and Harry knew she would be here at this hour.

"Well, I have a job," he sighed tiredly as he took a seat next to her and pressed his lips against hers.

"A job?" Minerva asked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. "Does this job involve you risking your life?"

Harry frowned as he shook his head.

"How ever will you cope?" Minerva gasped dramatically, clutching her chest.

Harry snorted as he nudged her with his shoulder.

"You act as though I have a death wish."

"You've failed to convince me otherwise," Minerva returned.

Harry conceded the point with a nod.

"It's been rough, hasn't it?"

"It's not been easy," Minerva agreed, "but you are who you are, Harry. You cause me more stress than I care for, but I love you for everything you are."

Harry smiled, her words warming him.

"Where's Rosa?"

"Sleeping," Minerva huffed. "How long was she on the Quidditch pitch today?"

Harry had the decency to look sheepish as he grinned in response.

"Only a few hours," he said dismissively. "She is a natural on her broom."

Minerva hummed.

"She gets that from you."

"And you," Harry pointed out.

Minerva smirked amusedly.

"I should have been prepared for it really. With us as her parents, she was bound to enjoy flying. I wonder if this one will be the same," she added thoughtfully.

It took a moment for her words to register, but Harry's eyes widened as he realised what she said.

"This one?" he choked.

He met Minerva's tear-filled gaze as she nodded, the smile adorning her features leaving him with no doubt as to how happy she felt.

It was so unlike the first time when their future was so uncertain, when they hadn't even discussed their feelings for one another, and Minerva had fallen pregnant with Rosa.

It was a difficult period for them both, but neither would change a thing, not when they had been gifted something as precious as their daughter.

"Say something," Minerva urged.

Harry could only smile, the emotion he felt unable to be put into words.

Instead, he simply kissed his wife and pulled her into his arms, squeezing her gently as he felt his own tears of joy begin prickling his eyes.