Chapter Text
When Harry arrived at the cottage, he was pleasantly surprised. He, Narcissa, Remus, and Sirius had taken a portkey and landed in the front garden. A memory of himself and a very young blonde boy playing in here fluttered into his mind, fleeting and vague.
There was a cobbled path leading the group from the gate all the way to the front door, cutting through a large lush field. There were berry bushes, shrubs, small trees, flower beds, ferns, and even a few stone bird baths. A paddock in the distance was home to a few grazing horses. Chickens clucked and picked at the ground in small groups all around.
Harry closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The air here was sweet and humid despite the November chill they had left behind.
“I just finished the atmospheric charms in the ward arrays,” Narcissa was saying to Remus and Sirius, though Harry was only half listening. He took off his shoes and socks, digging his toes into the soft grass. He had the overwhelming urge to run, frolic even. It was a very strange feeling though not unwelcome.
“I like it here,” Harry said dreamily to Remus, smiling up at the man. “Can you bring my broom later? Does Draco have one, too?” he added, turning to the blonde witch.
“Yes, and he’s very excited to see you again! He’s away at the moment, his tutor has him collecting potion ingredients down in the bog, there.” Narcissa pointed down a trail that led into the forest. “He’ll be back for dinner.”
Harry took off his thick cloak, already starting to feel warm. It felt like late spring here. Another day, he might’ve pestered the woman with questions, but today he honestly just felt like playing. He watched the chickens curiously as a garden gnome chased them away from its little nest in the berry bushes. They squawked and flapped their wings indignantly.
Sirius noticed him staring, and gave him a gentle nudge. “I’ll take your cloak, pup. Go run and play.”
Harry took off running into the grass, straight toward the gnome. Memories of a colorful house that looked as if it was held together by magic alone raced through his mind as he ran, and a red-haired boy without a face was congratulating him on throwing a gnome over a garden wall.
Snatching up the small creature by the ankle, he swung it around in a circle 3 times before letting it fly several metres into the bushes, cursing rather colorfully. He wondered briefly if it had met Sirius before.
:Pesky little biped hatchling, coming to disturb my bushes…: hissed a small voice by his feet. Harry crouched down to see a small brown snake, with black specks in its scales and a yellow ring around its head.
:Hello, there,: Harry replied in Parseltongue. :I didn’t mean to bother you.:
The snake raised its head, its long body curling up tightly.
:You are a Speaker? You Speak?: The snake seemed very curious about him, and poked at his bare feet, sticking its tongue out to smell him.
:Yes, I am,: Harry giggled as the snake’s tongue brushed his toes. :Stop that, it tickles! What kind of snake are you?:
:You smell very nice, very new,: it replied, and slithered closer. Harry crouched down to get a better look at his new friend. :I am a grass snake.:
Harry took note of the black markings around its eyes. They reminded him of a Muggle book he’d read in the tent, a Star Wars novel his mother had.
:You have very pretty eyes,: Harry complimented the snake. :Are you male or female?:
:I am female,: she hissed. :I have a nest over there, in the pond.: She pointed her head to the right, into the trees. :It is not very far. I like to come here to hunt the newts. If you would be so kind, I would like to get back to it. Your stomping has scared away my prey.:
Harry apologized to her, and left the bushy area. Up ahead, he saw a patch of daisies surrounding a small stone bird bath. Several white birds were splashing about. They flew away as he approached. He bent down to smell the yellow flowers, when he heard a rustling and snuffling sound. He rounded the bath, and saw a small creature tearing apart the flower bed. It looked like a hedgehog, though darker in color.
A memory of a similar looking creature flashed in his mind. A deep voice coming from a huge and hairy man spoke in his ear: “Best way to lure out a Knarl is teh leave out some food. Then, yeh stun it and take it away. Nasty little buggers, them. Will tear up yer garden in an ‘eartbeat if yeh let’em get on with it.”
Harry focused his magic into his hand, and shot out a light stunner. The little knarl keeled over unconscious. Harry waved his hand again, and the dirt and flowers righted themselves. He took his sock out of his pocket and picked up the creature, running back to the adults who were chatting on a bench a ways away.
“Narcissa, you’ve got a visitor in your daisy patch!” Harry held the stunned creature out for her to see, feeling quite pleased with himself.
“Merlin’s beard, Harry, how did you catch a knarl?” Remus gently took the creature into his hands, inspecting it.
“I just saw it tearing up the flowers, so I stunned it. I just thought he probably wasn’t supposed to be doing that.” Harry sat down in the grass and started to pull up a few clovers, weaving them together.
“That was very noble of you,” Narcissa said kindly, sharing a glance with Remus. “We’ve had a lot of knarls creeping in lately. Draco’s been very upset about his favorite raspberry bush getting torn up.” She conjured a small cage, and Remus gently levitated the knarl inside. It snored softly, a very cute sound for such an annoying pest.
“I like your garden,” he added, finishing his weaving and offering the little bracelet to her. “I made this for you, since you gave me your dragon.” He pulled the dragon out of his pocket, and sent it flying around their heads.
“You seem to have gotten some more control over your magic already,” Narcissa commented, sharing yet another look with his godfathers. Sirius just smiled proudly at Harry. He squirmed a bit at the praise.
“I guess.” He shrugged, and got back to his feet, holding out his hand for the dragon to return to him.
“Do you think Draco would mind if Harry joined him in tutoring?” Sirius asked. Harry frowned. He did not like the idea of boring lessons on stuff he already knew, and the prospect of having to dumb himself down just to avoid suspicion. Honestly, he just got here. Couldn’t the topic of school wait a few days?
“I’ll have a chat with his tutor, but I’m sure Draco would be pleased. He’d love to have someone to work with.”
Remus looked thoughtful, and said: “I could come by and help you with your knarl problem, if you’d like. I’ve always had a way with magical creatures. I’d be happy to take the boys along with me, if you’re open to that.”
This was a much better idea, in Harry’s opinion. Remus had been his favorite teacher in his third year, when the curriculum was largely on dangerous creatures. He shoved back the uncomfortable boggart lesson. Now wasn’t really the time for unpacking that.
“I’d like that,” Harry said excitedly. “When would you come? Can we start tomorrow?” He wanted to keep exploring the garden, maybe even show Remus his Parseltongue. He trusted the man not to react strongly to this secret, and it would be a good exercise in gauging just how much magical power he could express without gaining suspicion.
“We’ve got a lot to do now that you and your mum have come back, pup. We’ve also got to plan the funeral for… for Prongs.” Sirius joined in, though his proud smile had been replaced with a sad, dark expression.
Fuck. Harry knew they’d eventually have to talk about James, but he was rather enjoying this nice day.
“Oh. Right.” Harry ripped up some grass and shredded it in his fingers.
“I’m going to head inside and let the elves know Harry’s arrived. They’ll want to freshen up his room,” Narcissa said, and left the three to have the discussion in private.
“Do you know what a wizarding funeral is like, Harry?” Remus asked gently, lowering himself down to join him in the grass, then continued when Harry shook his head.
“That’s alright, you didn’t get to go to your grandparent’s services. It’s not the most fun thing to do, but I think your father would have wanted you to be there.”
Harry shrugged and threw some of the shredded grass into the air.
“Will Mum come, too?” He wondered how long they’d have to wait until she was ready to leave St. Mungo’s.
“Yes, I think so. Can I tell you a bit more about what it will be like?” Remus pressed. Harry was not going to wiggle out of this one. He felt the grief he’d been pushing very, very, deep down start to come up. The warm spring air suddenly felt colder, and the blue sky dimmed. His fingers tingled with magic, and he felt a knot forming in his throat.
“Do I have a choice?” He choked out, digging in the dirt with a stick.
“We have to talk about the things that happen to us, Harry. If we bury them or ignore them, they will just come back bigger and scarier. What are you feeling in your body right now?”
Harry paused in his assault on the soil at this. He could not think of a single time anyone had asked him a question like that.
“I feel cold,” he answered honestly. “My throat hurts and my magic wants me to use it. My hands tingle when it does that.” He wiggled them for Moony to see, then resumed his digging.
“I can understand that. I feel like that sometimes, too. Before I transform, I feel my magic under my skin, like a buzzing. What does yours feel like?” Remus summoned more sticks from the forest edge, and began to build with them.
“It feels like lightning, and sometimes it itches I guess. I feel it here first,” Harry pointed at his chest, without looking at the other man. “Then it goes down my arms and in my fingers.”
“How do you feel when your magic wants you to use it? When you can feel it in your hands?” Remus arranged the sticks in a kind of pyramid. Harry watched his long fingers work, delicate and precise.
“Mostly when I’m angry. But sometimes when I’m scared. I don’t know.” He reached out and summoned his own bundle of twigs, trying to copy the structure.
“What else do you feel when you’re scared or angry?”
Harry huffed. He did not like talking about his feelings, but he found it was easier to do when he could distract his hands with something small, like digging. Or punching. Punching was good too. He flexed his fingers as he remembered his tantrum outside the tent, how horrible he’d felt.
“I feel like breaking things. And my chest burns. And I want to yell. And say all the swear words Sirius does.” He could not recall ever sharing this kind of thing with anyone before, and it almost felt like he’d never thought about it at all. Why had he never taken the time to think about what he did when he was upset? Usually, he just… acted. Then moved on as if he was done being bothered, even if he wasn’t.
The werewolf reached over and picked up some of the ripped up grass, and waved his wand over a large clump. It turned brown and brittle, and he tucked half of it underneath his stick pyramid. He offered the other half to Harry, who copied the motion.
“Do you feel that way when you think about your dad?”
Harry swallowed before speaking. “I try not to think about him. When I do, I feel like I did outside the tent. I feel like…” He closed his eyes, and remembered his father’s screams as he was tortured by Voldemort. Magically amplified and blasted over all of Godric’s Hollow as they fled. Tears began to fall down his cheeks, and his chest ached.
“When I think of James,” Sirius said in a low gravelly tone, “I feel lost. My heart hurts, and I want to break things, too. I broke a lot of things when we went to your house that night.” Harry looked up in surprise. Sirius had never talked about that night in his past life.
Grief seemed to age Sirius as he spoke, though he was the youngest Harry had ever seen him. It was nowhere near the ragged, crazed mess he had been after Azkaban, but it was not a pleasant sight. He was crying, too.
“Dad used to laugh whenever I broke things at home,” Harry said, surprising himself as memories of a giggling James held up a very ugly broken vase. His mother had been furious, complaining that it had been a gift from her sister. James had just laughed harder as he waved his wand and repaired it. “He said I’d better learn Repairo first at school.”
The three of them shared a rather wet chuckle. Remus turned to Harry once more and gestured at the little stick pyramids they’d made.
“Let’s go gather some stones by the pond.” The three of them walked, Sirius sharing a few stories of the times Harry had caused minor chaos as a baby, summoning shiny jewelry or fragile decorations and smashing them on the floor. When they reached the pond, Harry saw the snake from before.
:I told you before, I am hunting…:
Harry just grimaced in apology, but didn’t reply. He would tell his godfathers about his ability soon, but not right now.
Remus crouched down and picked up a stone.
“With each rock, I’m going to let a piece of my grief go,” He murmured, and held it to his mouth. “James was one of my best friends. I will miss his laughter,” he whispered. Then, he conjured up a large basket and placed it inside.
Sirius picked a smooth, white stone that would have been good for skipping. “Prongs used to love throwing rocks with me in the lake at Hogwarts. I’ll always remember that time together,” he said to it, and placed it gently next to Remus’ in the basket.
Harry selected a smooth brown pebble, smaller than the other two. He held it up. “My dad saved me,” he whispered, trying hard not to choke on the lump still present in his throat. “He died for me.” He settled it next to the other stones, letting his tears fall fast and hot down his face.
They picked more stones, repeating the ritual until the basket was full. They trudged back to the garden bench, where the sticks still sat in their pyramids. Harry still felt very sad, but he had to admit the grief was lighter now that he had whispered so much to the stones.
This ritual came from me, Death whispered. Harry shuddered at the intrusion, his mind already feeling quite raw. He slipped his hand into Sirius’ to ground himself.
I gave this to Ignotus to help him grieve his brothers because he did not have my Stone. It helped him, I think. I am glad to be able to help you.
Harry just wiped his tears and hoped that Death understood his gratitude without having to say it.
Remus arranged the stones around his sticks, which Harry realized was the base of a fire. Harry did the same, until both were fully built. Sirius sat on the bench to watch.
“I’m going to light my fire, and let the heat of the flames take away some of that cold, sad feeling,” Remus said, and whispered the spell.
Harry just pointed his finger, urging his magic to do the same. He felt better as the warmth of the flame reached his wet cheeks. He closed his eyes, and imagined sitting by the fire with James at the cottage in Godric’s Hollow.
A memory of himself and his parents in front of the fireplace on Christmas came to mind. He’d just unwrapped a new toy broom, and thrown himself into his father’s arms. He felt the rumble of his laugh as he pressed his face into the man’s chest. His heart ached to remember what he’d lost. What he’d stolen from this Harry. The guilt made his stomach hurt.
He opened his eyes and stared at the fire, watching the sticks collapse as the flames greedily consumed the fuel.
“As the fire burns, I’m thinking about how much light James gave me in my life. I feel it burning in my heart. I can feel that he’s gone. But I can still let those happy memories of him warm me up when I feel cold.” Remus turned to Harry, and smiled kindly.
“Thank you,” Harry whispered. “Thank you for helping me.” He meant it, even if the experience had been painful. He was starting to feel some of the coldness of his grief melt away. They watched the fires for a few moments.
Eventually, the flames died and only smoking embers remained.
“We will light a pyre for James at the ceremony,” Remus said. “I want to warn you that you will see his body, but it will be wrapped and placed at the top of the pyre. Sirius and I will do that. You will help us place some of the branches, if you are willing. It is a part of your family’s tradition.”
Harry just nodded along. Remus explained a bit more about the specific spells and runes they’d use in the ceremony, and how his friends and family would be invited to speak. When the conversation was over, Harry felt drained. He yawned, and noticed that the sun had set as they talked.
“I believe Narcissa will soon be out to hunt us down for dinner,” Sirius said, and offered his hand to Harry. He took it, and let himself be pulled up from the ground. A wave of the man’s wand vanished the mud from his clothes and feet, and summoned his shoes from a few metres away.
Dressed again, the three of them made their way up the cobbled path to the house. It was rather large, though not intimidating. It was made of stone, with many large windows framed by dark green shutters. The door was a dark wood, its grain gnarled and knotty. It opened as they approached, and a house elf greeted them.
“Misters Black and the young mister Potter,” the elf said in a very high and squeaky voice. “I is Hully, and youse be late for dinner if youse do not hurry. Mistress Cissy and Young Master Draco are waiting for you in the dining room. Youse be following Hully, now!” He snapped his fingers and their cloaks hung themselves on the wall.
They took off their shoes and followed the bossy elf down the hall to the dining room, through an archway of cobbled stones. The table was set with a large roasted chicken, boiled potatoes, a garden salad with a few vegetables Harry had never seen before, and five place settings. Draco and Narcissa were already seated and waiting for them, chatting quietly.
“Sorry we’re late, we got a bit distracted,” Remus greeted, and pulled out a chair for Harry. It was large and cushioned, it looked rather heavy as it scraped against the hardwood floor.
“Hello, boys!” Narcissa replied cheerily. “Please, sit. Draco was just telling me about his lesson today. Say hello, darling.”
Draco blushed, and muttered a shy hello before staring into his lap. As soon as Harry looked at him, memories flooded into his brain. Draco, taunting him in their first ever flying lesson. Draco, shouting insults across the Great Hall. Draco, racing Harry across the Quidditch pitch for the Snitch. Draco, terrified and clutching Harry’s chest as Harry flew them out of a room full of flames. Draco, looking pale and defeated after a battle.
Harry had to work very hard not to let his mouth fall open. He stared at the other boy, who was very different from the one he remembered in his past life. No more memories from the other Harry came to him.
Draco looked up, feeling emerald eyes on him. His own eyes were very similar to his mother’s grey, though a bit rounder. His cheekbones were high and angular, but his cheeks still held the plumpness of youth. His blond hair was nearly white, and though combed neatly it was not nearly as slicked back as it had been in Harry’s timeline. He looked so innocent, not yet scarred by war. He was not yet the child soldier Harry had also been forced to be, both now unmarked by Voldemort.
Harry smiled at Draco, but they both looked away and focused on their meal. Making friends was hard, Harry thought. Especially when it felt like he already knew this boy. He reminded himself that this was not his Draco. Wait, no, not his Draco. He wasn’t… Harry focused hard on his dinner.
The adults chatted amiably about the garden, renovations on the cottage, and arrangements to be made for James’ funeral. Narcissa seemed to be the one planning the floral arrangements.
Harry did not speak throughout the meal, which was delicious. He did catch Draco sneaking glances at him, and the few times they made eye contact they both looked away blushing. Harry had never felt so bashful in his life.
When the meal was over, Draco asked to be excused and rushed out of the room without saying good night to the three guests.
“I’m sorry about him,” his mother said. “He can get shy sometimes. He was so excited to see you again, talked my ear off all week. I guess that’s just the way little boys are.” She glanced at Harry as she said this, knowing smile on her lips.
“Oh, don’t we know…” Sirius chuckled. “Shall we go and see your room, Harry?”
The three of them made their way back into the hall and up the fine wooden staircase. A rug was set in the middle, colored with deep green, brown, and maroon colorings. Golden birds and flowers were embroidered in, and danced around their feet as they climbed to the upper floor.
“Just down this hallway, not far,” Narcissa said as she led them down the corridor. Paintings of nature lined the walls, though Harry noticed a few portraits of black haired, grey eyed witches and wizards craning their necks to get a look at him.
“Here we are!”
They stopped in front of an open door, which led them into Harry’s new room. A large four poster bed was laid with green and silver sheets, the duvet embroidered with a gorgeous Common Welsh Green. An image of a tiny version of the same dragon being pulled from a bag danced in Harry’s memory.
A handsome desk sat against the large window, a real window unlike the one in the tent, and it looked out into the garden. Harry could see the pond and the daisies he had plucked the knarl from earlier. Above the tree line, a thestral could be seen making slow, lazy circles in the moonlight. A large wardrobe stood next to the desk, open and showing several sets of silk pajamas.
“I took the liberty of having Hully pick up your order from Twilfitt and Tattings. You’ll find everything in the wardrobe and the chest of drawers, though feel free to rearrange as you like.” Narcissa gestured widely at the room, and Harry entered, taking it all in.
“This is wicked!” he said honestly, and flopped down on the bed. “Thank you!”
“We can’t thank you enough for this,” Sirius said to his cousin. “We couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”
“Of course, it’s nothing. I’m happy to host,” she assured.
Harry yawned again, and eyed the pajamas. They did look rather comfortable, and the bed was probably the softest thing he’d ever laid on.
“We’ll let you get some sleep, then,” Sirius said, lingering. He clearly was not ready to leave just yet and was rubbing his hands together nervously. Remus wrapped an arm around his husband’s waist in comfort.
Harry stood awkwardly, and Narcissa quietly made to exit the room to give them a moment to say goodbye.
“Just call for Hully if you need anything, dear,” she called as she closed the door.
Harry rushed over and threw himself into Sirius’ arms, feeling suddenly very anxious at the thought of being all alone.
“Come back and see me soon,” he whispered, forcing himself not to cry.
“Always, love. We’ll come and see you in a few days once you’ve settled in. I’ll bring your broom, too, and we can do a little flying, yeah?” Sirius replied, setting the boy back down.
“Promise?”
“We promise,” Remus said softly, and pressed a small kiss to Harry’s head. Harry felt an ache in his heart, wishing his mother was here to tuck him into bed like she had every night in the tent. He missed her fiercely, though he knew she had to be away to get better.
The two left with one final bonecrushing hug and swears to return quickly. Harry changed into his new pajamas, running his fingers over the soft blue silk. It was the most luxurious thing he’d ever worn in his life. It flowed like water under his finger tips, and it reminded him of the invisibility cloak.
Tomorrow, he would practice summoning the Hallows. For now, he buried himself deep under the covers, and let sleep take him.