To Familiar Shores

It had been less than half a year ago that he'd left the castle, but as he looked up at the building he had first called home, it was a bittersweetness that filled him. Here, he had met Ron, Hermione, and many other people who were a part of some of his happier memories, but there were so many unpleasant ones to go along with them.

He had been only a small boy, defenceless, and clueless to how the world worked when he had first crossed the threshold into Hogwarts, and his years here had been full of suffering.

Harry found it almost laughable that he'd had to travel back over sixty years in time to enjoy two relatively peaceful years of schooling here. Though they had not been without incident or trial through his own endeavours, they had been his easiest years at Hogwarts, and that alone saddened him.

Yes, he had met other friends, had even connected with his family, but feeling so maudlin about the life he had been born into was not what he wanted.

Things had been bad, but there were good times, just so few of them.

Shaking his head of his musings, he entered the castle, the warmth within a welcome change from the chill of the November air.

He'd arrived late enough that the students would be in their common rooms, but not so late that the hour was indecent.

The headmaster was expecting him, so he headed in the direction of Dippet's office, simply enjoying not wearing a disguise as he had to whilst working.

"He knows that I am coming," he explained to the gargoyle who sprung aside to allow him entry.

Reaching the top of the staircase, he knocked and waited to be bid entry.

"Come in," the familiar voice of Professor Dippet called.

Harry had barely crossed half the room before the headmaster reached him, an expression of relief adorning his features.

"It's good to see you, Harry," Dippet declared.

"And you, Professor," Harry returned sincerely.

He had grown to respect the man before him. Armando Dippet had proven to be one of the few genuine people Harry had met, and he had come to value his dedication to his students.

It had been Dippet who had tutored him when Harry had first arrived, and the younger man would never forget all that had been done for him.

"Well, you don't seem to be missing any limbs, or any worse for wear," the headmaster chuckled.

"Not yet at least," another familiar voice spoke.

Peering over Dippet's shoulder, Harry was greeted by the sight of the woman that had mentored him, her arms folded and a single eyebrow raised in his direction.

"Professor Nott," Harry said with a grin.

The woman hummed as she approached, and much to his surprise, pulled him into her arms.

"What kind of trouble have you been getting yourself into Harry?" she sighed.

"What do you mean?"

Nott gave him a pointed look.

"I was summoned to see my brother, and he was asking on behalf of Lord Black about a parselmouth that has surfaced on the continent. Apparently, this very same young man has been causing quite a stir."

"Bloody hell," Harry grumbled.

Lord Black must be working with Grindelwald. That was the only logical reason that he would be interested or had even heard of what had happened.

"Bloody hell is right," Rosalina agreed. "Now, why don't you tell me just what you have been doing?"

Harry did so, omitting only enough to preserve his cover by not revealing locations or names of any that he had apprehended.

"What did you tell your brother?" he asked when he was finished.

"Nothing," Rosalina assured him. "He asked if there was any student here in the past few years that could have been a parselmouth and I told him that I didn't believe there was."

"Thank you," Harry replied, releasing a breath of relief.

"I would not put you in danger," Rosalina vowed. "I do not like lying to my brother, but my first responsibility is to my students, and although you haven't even written to me for a while, your education with me finishes when I say that it is done."

"Ah, and then you can drop me in it," Harry snorted.

"Exactly," Rosalina returned with a wink.

"I'm sorry," Harry huffed. "I didn't mean for you to be put in an awkward position. I didn't think Lord Black, or anyone here would support Grindelwald."

"It shouldn't surprise you what some would do for a position of privilege," Rosalina said disappointedly, waving off his apology. "I suppose it does explain why Arcturus has taken the helm of running the family. Evidently, he does not agree with his father's decision."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

He didn't know Arcturus well, but the few conversations he had shared with the Black heir hadn't given him the impression that the man would dedicate himself to such a cause.

None of his actions would suggest that.

He had spoken of his intent and need to coexist with the other pureblood families in Britain. It simply wouldn't make sense for him to align with Grindelwald when most of the others here would not do so.

"I do not suppose there is any understanding why Lord Black would do so?"

"Because Grindelwald is a dangerous man that is a viable option for him," Harry explained. "His movement is gaining traction. The entire continent is tense with what is happening there, and he is facing little resistance. The ICW will not act until it becomes necessary. If they lose a few smaller countries, then so be it," he added bitterly.

"And you know this for certain?"

Harry nodded.

"They all but said that they will wait and see when I was there to give a report that they never even asked me to give," he said with a thoughtful frown.

"That's politics for you," Rosalina pointed out.

"Well, they can leave me out of it," Harry grumbled.

Armando chuckled as he shook his head.

"Is the job everything you thought it would be?" he asked almost hopefully.

Harry suspected that the headmaster hoped that it wasn't and that he would change his mind about his choice of career.

"In some ways it is, in others, not so much," he acknowledged. "Most of my time is spent in unpleasant places looking out for unpleasant people, and only a very short time capturing them."

"Apart from this man in Prague," Dippet reminded him.

Harry nodded grimly.

"There wasn't any chance that I would be able to take him in, so I took the opportunity presented to me. It's just a part of the job I have to get used to. I'm sure there will be others that will require a similar approach."

Harry knew that there would be, and though the idea of killing people did not fill him with joy, he did not feel any guilt either. These were not good people and would kill him if it meant they could escape justice.

He would not give them that chance.

Dippet offered him a look of sympathy.

"I understand," he said sadly. "Have you not at least considered being part of a team to make it safer for you?"

He had, but Harry's reasoning for operating alone outweighed the benefits of working with others, and what happened in Prague only solidified his stance on this further.

"If I joined a team, I would have to follow someone else's orders and rely on them to watch my back. I can count on one hand how many people I trust implicitly, and none of them are my colleagues," he explained. "I've spent most of my life being told what to do and what I can't do. I won't put myself in that position again."

Rosalina gave him a questioning look, but Harry didn't elaborate.

He trusted the woman, but he was not ready to have a conversation with her where he would have to explain the misfortunes that had befallen him.

"I understand," Armando sighed, "but that does not stop me being worried about you."

"Nor me," Rosalina added.

Harry offered them a reassuring smile, their concern meaning more to him than either knew.

"Ah, Albus is here," Dippet announced, and Harry's demeanour shifted immediately.

He was furious with Dumbledore for his interference in Prague. What the man was thinking sending Scamander there, he knew not. It was a foolish endeavour that had gotten people killed, a fate that Harry could have met also had he not acted as he had.

The transfiguration professor had the decency to at least look ashamed as he entered the office and met Harry's glare.

"I believe I owe you the deepest of apologies, Harry," he said. "My actions were not well considered, and yourself and Newt could have been killed because of them."

"We could have," Harry agreed angrily. "What the bloody hell were you thinking? Because of you, I had to blow my cover to get him out of there."

"I know," Dumbledore assured him. "I saw the memory of what happened, and the only thing that pleased me was that you were there and took action to prevent that from happening."

"I shouldn't have had to!" Harry snapped. "Scamander should never have been there. If you don't want any part of what is coming, then bloody stay out of it you stupid sod! Why did you even send him?"

"I wanted to understand what was happening," Albus sighed. "I needed to see just what Gellert was doing."

"Well, now you know," Harry bit back. "So, stop interfering in matters that don't concern you. If you're not going to deal with him, then leave it to the people that are trying to."

"You're planning on confronting him."

It wasn't a question, but a statement, and Harry narrowed his eyes as he lifted his chin defiantly.

"If that is what it takes to stop him."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I do not believe that is wise," he murmured. "Gellert is as dangerous as they come, Harry. Confronting him would do you no good."

"But allowing him to keep doing what he is will?" Harry returned. "It's like I said, unless you plan on doing something about him, then you leave your old friend to be handled by someone else."

Harry did not know what his chances would be if he were to face-off against Grindelwald, but he would not sit idly by as Dumbledore was content to do for the man to exert his will over the entirety of Europe.

Something had to be done to stop him, and the work Harry was doing seemed to be the best way to make some dents in his armour at the very least.

For the life of him, he couldn't remember when Dumbledore and Grindelwald had concluded the war with their infamous duel, but as far as he was concerned, that day couldn't come soon enough.

He had seen what life was like under Gellert's regime, and he could not allow that to continue to spread.

People were murdered on the streets by those that were supposed to protect them. The man brought nothing but misery to those that refused to acknowledge him as their leader.

'Bloody saving people thing,' he groaned internally.

"I will," Dumbledore replied sadly, "and I am sorry for endangering you. That was never my intention."

Those were his parting words, and Harry released a deep breath as the man exited the office, his posture not one of the confidence as he always exuded.

"Albus feels terrible, Harry," Armando explained. "He is not one that often makes mistakes, but when he does, they tend to be large and impactful. I am not defending what he did, but he is unlike you or I, only he has a personal connection to this situation."

"I know," Harry acknowledged, the tension leaving his shoulders. "I don't think he is a bad person in any way, just a pain in the arse."

Armando chuckled as he nodded.

"Oh, he certainly is that," he agreed, "but one that I would not be without. When it matters, he has a way of coming through. I'm sure you will see that."

"I hope so," Harry sighed.

He certainly couldn't fight the coming war alone, and as annoyed as he was with Dumbledore, he'd much rather have the man on his side than the two of them being at odds with one another.

(Break)

He was here.

It was unlike Minerva to feel so excited at the prospect of seeing a friend, but she was. She and Harry had grown close over the past two years, and not having him around much since the end of June had left her missing him dearly.

It hadn't helped that he'd been called away again the last time she'd seen him only minutes after she'd arrived, but that would not happen this time.

Even if she had to follow him across the continent, she would get her time with him.

She paused at that thought.

When had she become that kind of person?

She wasn't, not really. Only when it came to Harry it seemed.

"How is he, Albus?" she asked eagerly as Dumbledore returned from visiting with Harry.

The man offered her an amused smile.

"He is well, though not best pleased with me. It is okay," he assured her. "It is my own actions that have irked him, and rightfully so."

"What happened?" Minerva pressed.

"I believe I may have interfered where it was not wanted, and to my regret, Harry and many others found themselves in a perilous situation. It is not my place to reveal the details, but I do not see why he would keep it from you. He trusts you, Minerva."

The words of her mentor were rather ominous, but she would have the truth of the matter from Harry.

He told her everything, didn't he?

"He will be here shortly," Albus broke into her thoughts.

"How do you know that?" Minerva asked curiously.

"Because young Harry has quite the presence about him, one that cannot be missed, even here at Hogwarts," the transfiguration professor replied coyly.

Only a moment later, the door opened, and Minerva flung herself into Harry's arms, not missing the cold look he shot towards Dumbledore.

She didn't comment on it, however. Instead, she clung to him in a display she would consider to be rather pathetic were it anyone else.

In the moment, she didn't care. Harry was here, and he was safe.

"I missed you," she whispered.

When she looked up at him, he was smiling brightly, and he pulled her into a tight embrace once more.

"I missed you," he echoed, the sincerity in his words warming her. "Have you eaten?"

Minerva shook her head.

"Then I think I owe you dinner," Harry chuckled.

Minerva looked towards Albus who nodded approvingly.

"Your work can wait," he said with a smile of his own.

Despite whatever had happened between her mentor and Harry, the older of the two gave both teens a look of fondness as they left the room and headed towards the exit.

"Were you spying on Gr…?"

Harry held up a hand to silence her.

"Not here," he muttered. "The walls tend to have ears."

Minerva nodded her understanding and was simply happy to allow him to lead her through the castle, her arm looped through his own.

She had missed him, she already knew this, but having him with her made her realise just how much.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked, pulling Minerva from her thoughts.

"The Three Broomsticks?"

"That works for me," Harry chuckled as he cast a warming charm over them both.

Had he not, it would have been quite the miserable walk from the castle to the village. Although it thankfully wasn't raining, there was an unpleasant chill in the air this evening.

Typical for Scotland in November, but it did not make it any more welcome.

"I thought you'd be used to the cold. You grew up here, didn't you?" Harry asked.

"I did," Minerva confirmed, "but I never made a habit of venturing outside in these conditions. The church at home is as warm as Hogwarts when the fires are lit."

"Did you spend much time at the church?"

Minerva nodded.

"I spent most days there as a child," she explained. "It served as a school too, so I was there until I came here. Did you never go to church?"

Harry shook his head.

"If my uncle would have entered one, he would have probably burst into flames," he snorted. "No, my muggle relatives were against anything like that, so I was never around it."

"From what you have told me about them, you might be right."

Harry had never gone into much detail about his life with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, but his expression darkened noticeably whenever they were mentioned.

Minerva wouldn't pry. It was not her place to do so, nor did she wish to sour the mood, so had always let it be.

"Here we are," Harry announced when they reached the pub.

Opening the door for her, they entered to find that it was a quieter evening than either were used to experiencing during their schooldays when the pub was full of students.

Not that it mattered, and as they took their seats at a table tucked away in the corner, Minerva felt herself relax for the first time in days.

"Any reason you chose to sit here?" she asked amusedly.

"I suppose I've gotten used to needing to see the whole room and everyone in it," Harry replied with a slight frown creasing his brow. "We are taught not to leave ourselves exposed for any length of time. Some of the people we follow know that we are there and will take any chance they can to be rid of us."

Minerva nodded her understanding as she sighed.

"Are you enjoying it?"

"I am," Harry assured her. "I think if there's any job that was made for me, this is it."

She couldn't disagree, though she wished she could.

Harry was one of the most talented wizards she had ever met, his most prominent skills lying in what someone would need to be a Hit-Wizard, or even an auror.

He had chosen the former of the two. Harry was happy and she was trying to be supportive.

"Albus said that you're quite cross with him…"

She paused as she noticed his jaw tighten.

"I am," Harry sighed. "I know he meant well really, but he can't interfere like that."

"What happened?"

Minerva listened as Harry quietly explained what had transpired in Prague, her curiosity turning to fear when he spoke of the altercation with the aurors. She suspected he wasn't telling her everything, but she learned enough to know that he'd killed a man.

It was an odd feeling seeing him in such a way. The Harry she knew was a gentle man, one who did all he could for his friends to ensure they were happy. He was not a cold-hearted killer, yet she saw no regret in his eyes for what he'd done.

Gently, she took his hand in her own.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded.

"I am. The whole thing was unnecessary, and if it wasn't for Dumbledore, it may not have happened at all, but you meant about the killing thing, didn't you?"

"I did."

Harry chuckled humourlessly.

"I forget that you don't know everything," he muttered. "You know about how I came to be here, but that's it really."

"I know you didn't have the best of lives, Harry."

He offered her a wan smile as he squeezed her hand.

"Caputo was the first person I killed intentionally," he said, "but death isn't a stranger to me. You already knew that I saw my mother killed, and I remember that. I still dream of it now."

Minerva was horrified by the revelation, but Harry spoke the truth.

Although he no longer saw the world through Tom's eyes here, he often dreamed about events that he had no recollection of, including seeing the last moments of Lily Potter's life, and even experiencing the sheer joy Voldemort had felt as he put an end to her.

He'd grown used to these dreams, and perhaps they were why he was so indifferent towards seeing people die now or even being the one to carry out the act.

He felt her grip tighten on him and he offered her a reassuring smile.

"The first time I killed someone, I was eleven-years-old," he continued. "He tried to kill me, but that didn't go to plan. I didn't know he had died and didn't think about it that way until a few years after. By then, I'd seen a friend of mine murdered in front of me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Watching Cedric being murdered was one that he had not gotten over easily. He had been a helpless babe when his home had been visited by Voldemort, but the guilt for not being able to save Cedric when Harry had been fourteen had plagued him for a long time.

It wasn't until he realised that even though he'd had a wand, he was only a little less helpless than he would have been without it. He hadn't known how to defend himself against the killing curse let alone another.

Still, it only added to the tally of death that he'd experienced.

Of course, there had then been Sirius only a year later which was worse than any he'd experienced thus far.

Sirius had been the closest thing he'd had to a father figure in his life, and to see the man vanish into the veil the way he did had changed Harry. From then, and the events that followed resulting in him arriving here and the ritual he underwent courtesy of the Flamels, death had become as familiar to him as the constant danger he had found himself in.

"What happened when you were eleven?" Minera pressed.

Her words were born of concern for the young man seated before her. She had known his life before he'd came into hers had been awash with tragedy, but she couldn't have imagined just how much had happened.

Another smile, not one completely absent of warmth but still hollow, nonetheless.

"Riddle," he began with a laboured sigh. "He managed to possess our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He wanted to steal something that he believed would restore his power. Two of my friends and I tried to stop him, and he tried to kill me again. I don't really understand the magic, but my mother left me with a protection of sorts, and when he touched me, he burned. It's all a bit of a blur but I remember just thinking that I wanted to get him off of me. I grabbed his face, anything I could really, and he crumbled to ash. I woke up a few days later in the Hospital Wing."

"Goodness me," Minerva whispered.

It was a fantastical tale, and one she would be hard-pressed to believe were it not Harry telling it.

"Riddle didn't die, did he?" she asked hopefully, already knowing the coming answer.

Harry shook his head and snorted.

"No, he came back at the end of my second year, only this was different. Again, I don't really understand the magic behind it, but he possessed someone else and opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Minerva questioned confusedly.

"Oh, it's a hidden chamber in the school that Salazar Slytherin created," Harry explained. "Anyway, I stupidly went to save the girl he'd possessed. That time, I should have died, and would have if it wasn't for a phoenix saving me," he added, rolling up his sleeve to show her the puckered flesh near the crook of his arm.

"What's this?" Minerva asked, running a finger over the scar.

"You wondered why the manticore venom didn't kill me. It's because I'd already been bitten by something more dangerous, and its venom is still in my blood. It will always be there."

"What bit you?"

Harry shot a furtive glance around the pub to ensure no one was listening in on them.

"A basilisk," he whispered.

Minerva's eyes widened.

She was no expert on magical creatures, but she had studied them in-depth enough to understand their limitations in transfiguration.

Serpents, as one of the easiest animals to create, had been amongst the first she had looked into, and she had read about basilisks. They were illegal to own and hunted by specialists in most countries for a reason.

They were as dangerous as magical creatures came.

"The phoenix tears," she murmured in realisation.

Harry nodded.

"The same phoenix that shares a core with my wand."

It was strange to see someone who had lived the life Harry had talk of such things so casually. Had Minerva experienced even a modicum of what she had just been told, she didn't think she would cope as well as Harry had.

"Hello, my dears, have you decided what you would like," a voice broke in, pulling her from her thoughts.

The serving lady had arrived and was looking at the two of them expectantly, a quill and roll of parchment floating nearby waiting to take their order.

"I'll have the chicken, please," Harry answered, "and a butterbeer."

"And for the lady?"

"I'll have the same, but I think I'll have a whiskey. You'd better make that a double."

"It will be with you shortly," the woman replied, offering Minerva a queer look before she left them alone once more.

Harry chuckled as she did so.

"I know, it's a lot to take in."

"It is," Minerva agreed, shaking her head. "I'm just trying to get my head around how you are the way you are."

"What do you mean?"

Minerva smiled at him.

"Most people who have gone through what you have wouldn't have survived, let alone be as kind as you are, Harry."

He merely shrugged in response.

"I'm not as kind or as naïve as I once was," he sighed. "I mostly fumbled my way from one disaster to another, not really having time to deal with what had happened from one year to the next. I suppose that so much has happened, that it all just became normality for me."

"And that's why you wanted to be a Hit-Wizard? Because being in those situations is normal for you?"

"Mostly," Harry acknowledged. "I think there is a part of me that thrives in those situations. It probably sounds insane, but when your life follows a path like mine, it becomes a part of you that isn't easily ignored."

Minerva nodded, though she did not fully understand what he meant.

Perhaps it was something that could only be understood by someone that had experienced what Harry had?

"That doesn't mean I won't keep worrying about you," she huffed.

"I know," Harry replied.

"Good," Minerva said firmly as the waitress returned and placed their meals in front of them.

"What about Tom?" Harry asked curiously. "Has he caused any problems?"

Minerva scowled at the mention of the boy.

"He seems to be exploring the castle," she informed him. "I followed him as a cat, and he tried to attack me."

"He did what?" Harry asked angry, his temper flaring.

"He didn't manage to do anything, but he's a very unpleasant boy. Not that anyone else has really noticed. During the staff meetings, they all sing his praises about how brilliant he is for one so young. Only Albus and I have seen that other side to him."

Harry hummed in displeasure.

"You should be careful," he advised. "He may only be a first-year, but he won't be forever. Don't follow him anymore, just track him on the map. There's not much he can do right now but keep a look out for him being on the second floor."

"The second floor?"

Harry nodded.

"That is where the entrance to the Chamber of the Secrets is. The bathroom just off the main staircase."

Minerva felt her blood run cold.

"You said there is a basilisk in there!"

Harry held up a placating hand.

"I already dealt with it, and didn't even get bitten this time," he said with a grin. "Just keep watching him. I promised I would not kill a child, but I will take further steps to hinder him when needed."

Minerva nodded her understanding.

"Can we not talk about him anymore?" she asked. "I don't want him ruining my time with you."

Harry smiled as he nodded.

"I suppose I could always tell you about the time I was entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament against my will, but you'd probably need more whiskey for that. Maybe another time for more of my life stories?"

Minerva couldn't be sure if Harry was joking at first, but then the glint of sadness she saw behind the smile was all she needed to know that he wasn't

If truth be told, she didn't think she was ready to hear more of the harrowing events of his life right now, so instead, she took a sip of her drink and released a deep breath.

She had more than enough to digest with what she'd already learned this evening without adding to it.

"So, when do you have to go back?" she asked.

"I have another few days," Harry replied. "Tomorrow evening, I'm going to visit Nicholas and Perenelle. Would you like to come and meet them? I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

Minerva had felt a stab of disappointment at the thought of not seeing him again before he left, but his invitation warmed her just as much as the whiskey had.

"I would really like that," she answered, simply pleased that she would be spending more time with him.

(Break)

Garrick Ollivander prided himself on being an excellent wandmaker. He was not yet as experienced as his father, but he had dedicated his life to the art since he had been a boy.

It was in his blood.

For generations the Ollivanders had crafted the wands for the witches and wizards of Britain. There were even those that came from abroad to purchase their wands from them, the family reputation preceding the love and care that went into each of their creations.

As such, they remembered each one they sold and to whom. To the Ollivanders, selling a wand to a person was akin to giving them a child.

Garrick's thoughts were interrupted as the bell to the shop tinkled, notifying him of his first customer of the day.

"Good morning," he greeted the young man enthusiastically, the same way his father had taught him. "How can I help you?"

The man that had sired him had semi-retired the previous year and now worked only weekends in the shop.

Garrick had been terrified at the prospect of being responsible for the family legacy, but thus far, things had gone well.

"I was speaking with a friend last night, and I was reminded of another conversation I had some time ago. Can you really tell how strong a relationship between a wizard and his wand is?"

The wandmaker nodded.

Very few people considered the way their wands worked in tandem with their magic, and it was a nice change to be able to discuss the topic with someone.

"It is indeed possible, but not an easy thing to do. It takes a keen wandmaker to be able to feel such a connection."

"Can you do it?"

"If you would hand me your wand, I will be glad to."

The young man removed a dark wand, and he recognised his father's work immediately. The craftmanship was simply exquisite, and the wand itself of the quality he would expect to see.

Carefully, he took it, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he felt the heat emanating from it.

The wand was warning him to treat it with respect.

"Holly and phoenix feather," he murmured, listening to what the wand was telling him.

It didn't do so with words, but in its own unique way.

"11 inches, pliable, but only so much."

The young man nodded appreciatively.

"My father created this wand and I, its' brother," Garrick explained. "Oddly enough I sold the other this past August to a boy starting his first year at Hogwarts. The phoenix that provided the core is quite the spectacular creature. I remember my father visiting with Albus to request a feather. It was quite the surprise that it yielded two."

"And what about the connection to me?"

Garrick frowned as he felt for the relationship between the man before him, and the still-hot wand he was clutching.

The magic was strong and unlike anything he'd felt yet in his admittedly short career as a wandmaker. The bond between the two was simply incredible.

"You have shared quite the journey together," he muttered. "The wand has saved your life and will answer to no other. It is a part of you, a part of your blood?" he added, frowning at the oddness of what he was being shown.

"It is," the young man confirmed.

"That, I will not pretend to understand, but this wand is loyal to you alone, and will never let you down. It will defend you if necessary."

"Defend me?"

Garrick nodded.

"Wands have been known to come to the aide of their masters if the bond they share is deep enough," he explained. "Treasure this wand, young man, and it will treasure you."

Garrick handed the wand back.

"Thank you," the man replied with a nod.

"Wait!" Garrick called before the door to the shop was opened.

The man turned back towards him with a questioning look.

Garrick hesitated.

He had always been told that using blood for any type of magic was dangerous, but what this man and his wand had been through already compelled him to speak further.

"The wand wants your blood," he whispered. "There is something in there that it craves, something that will strengthen your bond beyond what it is now."

The man frowned before chuckling.

"I understand."

Garrick didn't, but it was not his place to pry any more than he had.

Something told him he had just experienced something quite unique, though he didn't know just what it was.

He would need to discuss the experience with his father.

He watched as the young man left, and shook his head as he returned to his workshop, pausing as he caught sight of a box he had seen many times before.

"Impossible," he whispered as he removed it.

Opening the lid, he found himself looking upon the very wand he had just inspected, and his gaze shifted to the street, hoping he could catch sight of the young man once more.

"How very strange," he muttered, gasping as the wand in the box was engulfed by a bright red flame, the song of a phoenix echoing around the shop.

When the fire burned out, only a strip of ash remained, and Garrick could only stare at it in disbelief.

"How very strange indeed."

(Break)

"The young lady that Harry is bringing to meet us…"

"Minerva," Nicholas clarified. "She is Albie's apprentice."

"I see," Perenelle murmured.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, why would there be?" Perenelle replied, busying herself with the soup she was preparing.

Nicholas chuckled.

"Is this your protective side making appearance? You're worried about Harry."

"I'm always worried about him," Perenelle mumbled. "He gives me many reasons to worry."

"He does," Nicholas agreed, "but Minerva is not someone that should cause you concern. She knows about his status and is keeping his secret."

"She was the first girl he met? The one that was…"

"Yes," Nicholas snorted. "That is her."

Perenelle giggled.

"I would like to have seen Harry's reaction to that."

"From what Albie said, he was in shock. Understandable really, given the circumstances. Ah, they are here."

Perenelle removed her apron and checked her reflection as Nicholas looked on in amusement.

It was not often they had company, but when they did, she insisted on making an immaculate impression.

Nicholas, not so much. He had long ago stopped caring what people thought, though he had perhaps crossed the line when he had attended a dinner with some old friends in a full suit of armour.

He had not removed the helm all evening, nor even opened the visor to greet them.

Perenelle had been furious, but Nicholas did not wish to partake in a conversation that would have undoubtedly been boring.

The armour had worked as planned and had been his barrier against such tedious exchanges.

"Good times," he chuckled to himself. "Harry!"

"Nicholas," the teen greeted him enthusiastically, pulling him into a tight hug. "What happened to Mr Ames? Did you manage to finally get rid of him? I saw the 'for sale' sign outside his house."

"No such luck," Nicholas snorted. "His wife finally caught on to what he was up to with that blonde woman. She caught them…"

"Nicholas" Perenelle cut in, shooting him a warning look.

"Let's just say she found him with his pants down," Nicholas chuckled.

"Doesn't that mean you'll just get a new neighbour?" Harry asked.

Nicholas frowned.

He had been so ecstatic the Mr Ames would be gone that he hadn't considered that someone else would take his place.

"Merde," he groaned.

"Maybe I'll just buy the house," Harry offered.

"Would you?" Nicholas almost pleaded.

Harry shook his head.

"I know the kind of neighbour you are. I don't fancy replacing my windows every other day."

Perenelle laughed as she wrapped her arms around Harry and kissed him on the cheek.

"And you must be Minerva," she said, welcoming the young woman in the same fashion.

"Hello, Mrs Flamel," Minerva replied.

The younger woman was nervous but stood confidently despite this.

"Please, Minerva, you may call me Perenelle."

"And you may call me Nicholas," the alchemist insisted, brushing his lips across the back of her knuckles. "Albie did not say how beautiful you are."

Minerva blushed and Nicholas grinned.

"Alright you old sod, that's enough of that," Harry sighed. "Bloody charming Frenchman."

"We are people of passion, Harry," Nicholas returned, winking at Minerva. "It is in our blood."

"Leave the young lady alone, Nicholas," Perenelle huffed. "Honestly, if you were this charming when we first met, we could have been married sooner."

"I was charming!" Nicholas returned.

Perenelle hummed, offering her husband a sweet smile.

"Dinner will be ready shortly," she announced. "Please, take a seat."

Harry, Minerva, and Nicholas did so whilst Perenelle finished preparing the meal.

"Albie tells me that you are very gifted in transfiguration. What made you so interested in it?"

"I just found that I was good at it at first," Minerva explained. "The more I did it, the more I enjoyed it. I don't suppose that is a very interesting story," she added with a frown.

"Nonsense," Nicholas said dismissively. "Passion can make everything more interesting. It means that you care enough about something to dedicate so much of yourself to it. Take Harry here. When we first met, he did not have much direction, and now he is travelling the world and apprehending the worst people imaginable," he finished proudly. "If he was not so passionate about what he did, he would not survive long."

Minerva nodded her agreement and Nicholas noticed the girl squeezing the young man's hand under the table comfortingly.

"You worry about him," the Frenchman stated.

"I do," Minerva agreed.

Nicholas nodded his understanding.

"As do we, but if Harry has proven anything to us, it is that there is no one else I could think of that should be doing what he does more than him. I rest easier knowing that he is out there doing his utmost to keep the rest of us safe."

Harry snorted.

"You find humour in my words?"

"Come off it, Nicholas," Harry sighed. "You of all people don't need me to protect you."

"What makes you think that?" Nicholas asked curiously.

"I'm sure you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself."

"Oh, I am in my own way, but if I was to be openly attacked, I have less chance than you would think. I am an alchemist, Harry. I have not dedicated my life to combat the way you have. If it came to a fight of wands between you and I, you would win."

Harry shook his head in disbelief as Perenelle placed the first course in front of them.

"He is right," she said matter-of-factly. "We spend most of our time hidden behind our wards for our safety. When we do leave, it is done in disguise, and we rarely venture out for long. We have lived long lives, but that means little when it comes to the things that you excel at. I enjoy my flowers, my work in runes, and even potions, but I never was very adept with combat magic."

"Neither was I," Nicholas clarified. "I am a brilliant wizard, but there is not a day that doesn't pass us by where we do not fear our home being breached and us killed for the stone."

"I'd never thought about that," Harry mumbled. "Well, I wouldn't let anything happen to either of you. You know that you can reach me immediately if needed to, and that I would be here straight away."

Nicholas smiled brightly and Perenelle kissed him on the cheek.

"You are a good boy, Harry," she declared. "Now, eat your food before it gets cold."

Harry chuckled, and Nicholas took a moment to observe him.

He and Perenelle had heard of what had happened in Prague, and though both had been angry with Albus for his foolishness, Harry did not appear to be any worse for wear.

If anything, he was sitting just that little straighter, but that could be because of the woman he had brought along this evening.

Nicholas would not pretend to know the nature of their relationship, but it was evident that the two of them adored one another, and even though Perenelle seemed to have had her reservations, she too had relaxed considerably having seen them interacting together.

"What's for dessert?" Harry asked when their plates had been cleared.

"I have made you a treacle tart," Perenelle informed him, grinning as his eyes lit up.

"Minerva brought me a treacle tart once for my birthday, and then she ate most of it before I could get any."

Nicholas laughed at the pout he sported, and even more so at the unashamed nodding of the young woman.

She was good for Harry, he decided.

With the job he did, it would be easy for him to fall into a pit of misery and despair, but it was clear that Minerva helped keep him out of it, despite how difficult it was for her.

Nicholas had noticed the tension in her shoulders when they had discussed his work, and he did not doubt there had been conversations between them where Harry had explained his reasoning for doing it.

What counted was that she was sticking by him, giving him the normality that he would need when he wasn't out in the field.

Perenelle and Nicholas had known many Hit-Wizards over the years, and most changed, some lost themselves, and many more had died before they had realised they were not right for the job.

Harry was different to all of them.

Nicholas did not doubt that what he did was difficult for the young man, but he was thriving, and he was happy.

A far cry from the boy they had met a little over two years prior, and some of that thanks to the young woman who was looking upon him adoringly as he tucked into his favourite pudding.