Chapter 3. New Arrivals.
Harry was looking at the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from a whole new perspective, and that was because he was sitting at the staff table in the considerable shadow of Rubeus Hagrid, looking out over a sea of young expectant faces. The students had gathered for the welcoming feast at the start of another year, and some of them, especially the older ones, were staring intently at the young man sitting with the other teachers.
To those students in the fourth year and above Harry was something of a hero, they had all been at the school when Harry, Hermione and the rest of the Tyr had fought and defeated Voldemort, as far as they were concerned he was still one of them. To the younger students he was a name, a legend their parents spoke of a lot, but they knew nothing of the man himself. As the great doors at the far end of the hall opened admitting the diminutive form of Professor Flitwick and the new first years, Harry's thought's retreated back the nine years since he, Hermione, Ron and Neville had made that walk themselves.
So much had changed and yet so much of the tradition was still the same. The Sorting Hat was lying crumpled on the old stool much as it had in his day, and the first years would still be divided amongst the four houses, but with the demise of Slytherin House the division was far less contentious. Although Harry had visited the school on a number of occasions since the end of his seventh year, this was the first sorting he had attended where he would see new students chosen for Dumbledore House.
There were still less students in the new house than the others, but after the death of Voldemort some older students had transferred to Hogwarts from foreign schools and a few of those had found their way into Dumbledore. So there was a smattering of students now in all seven years and this year for the first time, so Solomon had told him, they would be able to put up a creditable Quidditch team.
The thought of Quidditch let Harry's mind wander again, and as the sorting continued he dipped freely into the events of the last nine years. As he foraged through his memories it was so evident, that for him, there was only one constant that ran through all this time. There was this brown eyed bushy haired girl, who grew into a brown eyed slightly less bushy haired woman, who was at this moment sitting at home in Godrics Hollow being waited on by Dobby, the house elf. Hermione was only ever a thought away and it was on her that he focused his mind.
'Hi, you OK love?'
'Yes Harry, no changes since last contact err…twenty minutes ago, I'm fine,' she giggled in his mind. It made Harry shiver. 'Sorting yet?'
'Yes'
'Oh good, let me listen.'
Over the years they had improved on the fleeting mental contact they had started to enjoy in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Now by opening their minds fully to each other they could see and hear what the other was experiencing. Hermione always thought it was like watching muggle television but without the annoying advertisements. She had no problem in coping with the dual experience of seeing out of two pairs of eyes, but Harry hadn't quite mastered the technique for when he opened his mind in this way he sometimes lost track of which pair of eyes and ears were his.
It took two nudges from Hagrid to bring him back to the Hall to hear Solomon welcoming the new Defence against the Dark Arts Professor. It was only when the Headmaster repeated his name for the second time, Harry remembered he was talking about him. Harry reddened, nodded politely at the applause that greeted him, and then smiled ruefully at Solomon who winked at him.
As the meal progressed Harry was assailed by many mixed feelings. Hogwarts had been so much a home to him, and it was again, but in a way it wasn't, Godrics Hollow was his real home, and part of him still wished he was there now with Hermione.
Harry's first morning as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor found him a little nervous. He knew his stuff, he didn't have to worry on that score. Solomon had given him some great pointers on the techniques of teaching over the past few months, and all the other members of staff had been very supportive, so in theory there should have been no problems. However, for the boy who lived, the saviour of the wizarding world all was not well, he sat in his office and looked around at the room that held so many reminders of its previous occupants and worried, for today, for the first time, he was going to face a class full of students, all on his own.
He heard the main classroom door bang open and the chatter of the students as they filed in, well, there was no putting it off any longer. He knew what was waiting for him,… third years,… he blanched, then he squared his shoulders, what on earth was he scared of, he had faced Voldemort hadn't he, of course he had, and they couldn't be any worse than that……could they? He opened his office door and descended the short flight of steps to the classroom which had now fallen silent. All the class was staring at him, faces full of expectation; he tried not to show the nervousness he felt, and perched himself on the end of the desk at the front of the room.
"Right," he said with his self assumed confidence, "Books away, wands out."
As one the class beamed at him and cheered, Professor Potter had arrived.
The first few weeks of Harry's initial term as a teacher flew past, his worries about his abilities to keep his students attention and to actually pass on any knowledge were groundless. It seemed that his classes were actually quite popular, but that may have been because he felt that practical experience with spells was more important than getting his students to write essays. So from the student's point of view Harry's homework was often looked on as an excuse to cause a little mayhem in the common rooms, rather than that serious study. But however they regarded it, they did learn and that was the point of it all.
He had started all his classes with work on shielding, even with the higher years, for once he had shown them that he could penetrate any shields they could produce with ease, they were keen to improve. Starting with the protegre charm with the younger students and aegis maximus with the older ones, everyone was making progress.
Harry was feeling rather smug with his success as he left his class of fifth years; he was walking down a corridor on the fourth floor heading towards the staff room when in the silence, only broken by the sound of his footsteps, he heard someone crying.
He couldn't locate the source of the sound to start with, then he realised it was coming from behind a tapestry that was hanging on the wall to his left. Harry slowly pulled the tapestry to one side revealing a small alcove, and crouched in the small space was a first year in Dumbledore robes, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with her sobs.
"Hello," said Harry kindly, the girl turned her dark haired head toward him and stood quickly. "You seem to have a bit of a problem, is it something I can help you with?" he asked. The girl seemed embarrassed to have been caught in this situation, hung her head and said nothing. "Julie Swan, isn't it?" said Harry encouragingly, "you were the one who asked about patronesses weren't you?"
"Yes Sir," the girl replied in the quietest of voices.
"Well then Julie, would you like to tell me why you are hiding up here and what has upset you." Julie looked as if she would like very much to be somewhere entirely different. "You're not in any trouble; I would just like to see if I can help."
"It's my fault, I…I," she hesitated unsure as to whether to continue, "had an argument with some of the other first years, they said that Dumbledore House was full of weaklings." Now the dam had burst, all her woes came out in a rush. "We had to be if all we could do was look after the weak and poor, and…and it was the best place for someone like me a…a…mudblood."
Harry went cold, it was a long time since he had heard anyone utter that despicable expression, and he had hoped that the bigotry behind those sorts of feelings had gone, but obviously he was wrong. Despite everything there were still wizards out there who harboured the old grudges, then he realised he was being naïve; it was going to take a long time for these old prejudices to fade. That was one of the purposes of Thrubwell's Academy putting pureblood, half blood and muggle born witches and wizards together at an earlier age, teaching them tolerance and understanding.
He sighed and regarded the youngster standing there looking so upset, then an image flashed into his mind of another young girl close to tears for the same reason, and at that moment Harry knew what to do.
"I think you need to have a talk with my wife," Harry said. "Did you know she was a Dumbledore too? Transferred from Gryffindor in her last term when the new house started, Head Girl too."
"No Sir I didn't," a little confidence returned to the girl, who tried a smile.
"Right then, do you have any more lessons today?"
"No none," Julie replied.
"OK," Harry sent a thought to Solomon to ask if what he was going to do was alright, then on receiving permission, sent another to Hermione, telling her to expect them. "If you are ready, would you mind?" he held out his hand and Julie took it. Harry concentrated and then they were standing in the sitting room of the cottage in Godrics Hollow, Hermione sitting on the sofa gave them both a welcoming smile.
Julie looked very surprised, "How did you do that? You can't apparate in the school, or the grounds, it says so in…"
"I know," said Harry, "Hogwarts a History, I've lost count of the times I've been told that one. I'll tell you later. Now Julie this is Hermione, Hermione this is Julie. I'm going to hinder Dobby while he makes the tea."
…………………………….
The weekend after Julie's visit to Godrics Hollow was the first real opportunity that Harry had to talk to Hermione about the girl. He had noticed that she was much happier on their return to Hogwarts and that on the couple of occasions he had met her since she was retaining that new confidence that somehow Hermione had been able to engage.
"It was just girl talk Harry, that's all," Hermione explained, "and I used that muggle phrase about sticks and stones, something I forgot when Malfoy was being equally obnoxious. She also needed to realise that at some time in our lives we are all weak and poor, not in the strength and money sense, though that too, some of us. That Dumbledore House is all about helping people having problems in all senses of the weak and poor bracket, even someone like you."
"Pardon, when was I weak and poor?"
"Well," she said, "when Voldemort caught you with the Avada Kedavra curse you weren't at your strongest, in fact you nearly weren't anything, and if you remember there were several times you were poor in the amount of confidence you had in yourself. It was me helping you with those troubles, and trying to protect AH that was the catalyst that developed my Dumbledorishness." She giggled. "Gosh I wonder if that's a real word?"
Harry laughed, and drew Hermione close to him; they were cuddled together on the sofa as usual. "Your right of course," Harry agreed, "I suppose I hadn't thought of the words in that light, makes Dumbledores even more special." Harry leaned over and kissed his wife and very gently placed a hand on her abdomen and marvelled at the movement he felt. "But then I knew that a long time ago."
Time flies when you're having fun, so the saying goes, and that first term really flew for Harry. He watched the Quidditch matches with a little jealousy, wishing that he could still play but realising, even had it been allowed, although he might still hold his own against players of his own age some of the younger students playing now could turn so quickly that they would run rings around him. This was something that had been proved to him on the couple of occasions that the Gryffindor team had persuaded him to get back on a broom, oh to be eleven or twelve or thirteen again, but even with all his magic Harry couldn't manage that one.
Hardly had he drawn breath after the welcoming feast then the end of the term was upon him and Harry peragated back to Godrics Hollow the day after all the students left for their respective homes. Hermione was close to the end of her pregnancy now and for the first time allowed Harry to help her in and out of chairs and up and down the stairs.
The were cosseted in their usual place on the sofa by the fire and Harry was feeling the movement of their baby as Hermione nestled down to rest her back. Not really conscious of what he was doing Harry was staring at the back of his hand as it moved in time with the kicks from the person inside. He let his mind wander and suddenly he had the feeling that he was under water, he had an instant of panic which fled when he realised he was still sitting on the sofa, but someone, somewhere, was under water. Part of his mind retained this feeling, the water was warm and it was a place of safety, then it dawned on Harry that he was in contact with his unborn child.
Harry wasn't sure if this was normal but then he didn't know many telepathic families. So keeping as calm as he could he listened and received an even bigger shock because he recognised the voice that sounded in his mind.
"Hello Harry, I promised we would meet again," the contact was faint but unmistakeable.
"AH, is that you?" Harry hadn't meant to speak it out loud but he did.
'Well not really, but yes,' the disembodied voice floated back to his mind.
Hermione opened her eyes a little to see Harry with a look of complete astonishment on his face, "Who are you talking to love?" She was relaxed and on the verge of falling asleep.
"Our son," Harry replied, not quite believing it himself.
That woke Hermione up, "Our son?"
"Yes, open your mind, and listen," Harry said, not daring to move in case the contact was broken.
Then Hermione heard him too, and she recognised him as well. Her eyes began to shine with the emotion that burst in upon her.
'I know how sad you have both been at times, living with the memories of the day I left you. So I wanted you to know that I am fine and right now I am just where I want to be. I am changing, and I won't remember AH much longer, it's complicated but that's what happens when you decide to come back. I told you we would be together again and now I am becoming what I want to be, what AH would have dearly loved to be, your son. I will be my own person but deep inside there will still be a bit of the little boy who loved you both so much; and that's the good part, I will again. My AH memories are fading being put away to keep with the others, to enrich this soul, so that one day it will make its final transformation with all the others. Please don't be sad any more.'
Harry and Hermione felt the mental contact fade away to nothing then as they exchanged expressions of sadness mixed with happiness a new voice so much like AH's but subtly different rose in their minds.
The thoughts were as simple as a child's should be, but the meaning was clear to his parents, as he spoke to the minds he encountered that were not his own 'Who are you, and who am I?'
It was Hermione who answered a question that they had asked themselves when they knew he was on the way, 'You are James David Potter and you are our son. Sleep now you have a busy time ahead.'
Harry embraced his wife and kissed her, and then she gripped him tightly as the pain started.
"Ooh!" she gasped, "that was rather sudden. I think you ought to get Poppy, we may need her soon."
To give Harry his due he didn't panic, he peragated away to fetch the nurse immediately. He only made one false stop at the hospital wing at Hogwarts, gave the new med-witch there an apologetic grin and then, continued to Thrubwell's and was back in the Hollow with Madam Pomfrey in less than three minutes. Poppy didn't make Harry boil lots of water to keep him out of the way but she did send him to fetch Molly Weasley. "Nothing like having someone with loads of experience in these things," she said, and by the time Harry and Molly returned, Hermione was upstairs in bed. Harry stayed and held Hermione's hand, he bore the pain with manful fortitude as she squeezed his hand very tightly, and three hours later James David Potter made his first public appearance.
……………………….
……………………….
Harry found it hard to credit but here they were twenty months later going through the same process all over again. This time it was no surprise at all, both he and Hermione knew the significance of the stone on her necklace turning pink late one November night, and as expected, right on time, their daughter arrived the following August. They had no proof, as neither of them had any mental contact with their daughter before she was born, even though they had tried, but they had a strong suspicion that the little girl who had been AH's companion all those years before and their daughter were one and the same. Whatever her origins, when she arrived into the world she was no longer Sophie or anyone else, she was simply their daughter Natalie Lily Potter.
Harry loved his son to bits, his love for Hermione knew no bounds, but the first time Natalie opened her eyes and Harry saw those emerald green pools staring at him, his heart melted. Hermione smiled, she knew that whatever their daughter wanted throughout all her life her father would never be able to refuse her, and she didn't mind because that was the way it should be.
That was the size of it, the Potter family, just the two children, but the way they could communicate with each other it was often as if there was just the one. The brother and sister team developed as strong a bond as the mother and father team and they tended to get into just as much trouble.
Life for the Potters settled into normality. Well a normality that any young couple with young children who could talk to each other telepathically, and had an active magical ability at an age that surprised everyone who witnessed it, would understand. Both of his offspring seemed to have inherited Harry's ability to turn what should be very complex theories into simple spells, purely because if they wanted something done they just made it happen.
Poor Dobby was kept on his toes chasing aberrant feeding bottles around the cottage as they floated from the kitchen to the nursery to satisfy which ever infant had decided that feeding time should be now and not when it was scheduled for. Favourite cuddly toys no matter how well packed away before sleeping times, would miraculously find their way back into the cot and then resist any further attempts at removal. James' stuffed version of Hagrid's pet Fluffy actually tried to bite Harry as he went to lift him out of his son's cot, and he tried with all his three heads. However inventive their children were with their magic Harry and Hermione found to their dismay that neither developed a spell that would help to keep them clean. That particular chore they left fully in the grasp of their parents.
As James and Natalie grew it became obvious to all which child favoured which parent. James had Hermione's eyes, deep brown and as bright as sunlight, and he had her hair, although his was as curly it was fortunately never allowed to get as long as his mothers. He looked quite like her, everyone said so, but his Grandparents decided that he would be much taller than their daughter, if their memories of her as a child held true.
Natalie, or Nat as she was usually called, born out of her brother's initial inability to say her name correctly, then as a way to differentiate her from her grandmother, was a pixie. Not a real one, no pointed ears, acorn cup for a hat, and a desire to live in a house made from a giant toadstool, but pixie like. She was smaller than her brother and had a delicate round face that lit up when she smiled and positively radiated happiness. Her dark hair, like her fathers was straight, but unlike him she had some control over the way it behaved. Beautiful child that she was it was her eyes that held the attention of anyone who met her, emerald green, sparkling like the gem their colour was named after. With those eyes she could look directly into your soul, sense your innermost secrets, your hopes and desires, and if you weren't prepared it could be quite unnerving.
…………………………..
…………………………..
While the Potters coped with their magically precocious children, the rest of the wizarding world continued much in the way it had for centuries. For the bulk of the witches and wizards the muggle world might well have been on another planet for all the attention they paid it, but for some the way the muggle world was changing sounded warnings that wizardom would not be able to ignore forever. The muggles generally had never been aware that the wizarding world existed at all. They were certainly oblivious to the fact that at least some of that alternative world watched their scientific progress with concern.
There was an obscure ministry department that maintained the muggle watch, it was never very large and like Arthur Weasley's old Misuse of Muggle Artefact's Department, had been considered an unwanted necessity, and it was a good place to bury a witch or wizard who showed too much muggleness. However since Arthur's elevation to the Minister's seat things had been slowly changing. The Minister of Magic may have had a soft spot for muggles and their attempts to circumnavigate the use of magic with ingenuity and inventions, but he was also aware that for muggles to expose the wizarding world would be a disaster. He also believed that the muggle world was having and would continue to have a greater impact on their own, and to this end he strengthened both departments and amalgamated into them a section of Aurors. With Weasley's Watchers on the job Arthur really felt that they were ready for anything, dark wizards defeated, muggles being watched, what could possibly go wrong?