Author's Notes: After many chapters, I realized that I (okay, make that a reviewer from chapter 8) had made a major mistake in calculating Harry's assets. He has about $2 billion according to the amount of galleons I gave him, not $300 million. (Keep in mind; I'm sticking to American currency because that's where they live, and not the British pound.) I changed it now, and I hope that you won't mind the mistake on my part, or the major jump in money. If I missed any part of changing the amount, don't hesitate to tell me, kay? (Don't mind me, I'll just go fall down a hole.)
Enjoy!
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August 29th, 2001 …
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"Are we going before or after Andrew's birthday?" Hermione asked, taking off her shirt and putting on a loose fitting one.
Harry shrugged, sitting on the bed and putting on a pair of socks. His feet did tend to get cold during the night, and he never fancied getting up in the middle of the night, shivering, just because his damned feet were cold. "Doesn't matter," he answered, watching his wife's every move. "Though, I guess, I see no major problem with visiting McGonagall before Andrew's birthday. We still have what, four more days `till he turns one?"
"Yes," she murmured, climbing into the bed. "But, we still have a lot of things to do, you see," she explained, waiting patiently for Harry to snuggle next to her. After he did, she started talking again. "We have to buy Andrew his presents, and then we have to get Matt's portkey, make sure he's all right, and then figure out how exactly we're going to Hogwarts."
"All in the course of four days," Harry chuckled, softly caressing his wife's abdomen. It felt somewhat lumpy, he noted, though it was just slightly. Back when she was pregnant with Andrew, he never slept in that position until she was nearly seven months along, and he could already feel his son kick and move around, rather than the funny feeling lumpy thing his hand was on right now. Wow, I must be really tired, referring to my unborn child as a `funny feeling lumpy thing.' He shook his head, yawning softly. "We'll start early tomorrow," he murmured, making himself warmer under the covers, "bright and early."
She nodded, softly caressing his left cheek, slowly lulling him to sleep. Andrew was the same way, she thought smiling, and still was. "Around eight or nine, I suppose, you'll go to the Ministry-hopefully in a glamour-to get the portkey to Hogwarts. Make sure it's safe for pregnant women," she reminded him, and felt him nod against her. She continued, saying, "Then when you come back, Andrew and I will be ready and we can shop for Andrew, go to McGonagall, make the Portkey for you to go to California and get Matt."
"All in the course of four days…?" he murmured.
"I suppose," she answered softly, her eyes drooping.
"Ministry… Andrew… McGonagall… Matt. Right."
She nodded sleepily, still absently rubbing his cheek. "Night," she murmured.
"Goodnight, love."
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It wasn't even eight in the morning, and Harry was all ready to leave their temporary home. He was making his breakfast, seeing as Hermione had just gotten up a few minutes ago, and Andrew was due to wake up within the next hour or so. He's like Hermione in that aspect, he thought, pouring a healthy amount of milk into his cereal bowl. Grabbing a spoon, he shuffled over to the nearest armchair and sat, turning on the telly to see the news.
Ten minutes later, he was finished eating-and updated to the current events happening in England and around the world. He cleaned the bowl, putting it away after they were properly cleaned and dried. Putting on one of his various types of name brand athletic shoes, he laced them up and put the other on, stretching for a few short moments before walking into his and Hermione's room.
She was almost fully dressed, save for the fact that her shirt was unbuttoned, something she was currently fixing. From Andrew's baby monitor, he heard that he was still sleeping peacefully, and Harry smiled softly. Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he sat behind Hermione, who was currently sitting on her comfortable vanity seat, trying to apply a light amount of makeup.
"Morning, love," he said, wrapping his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Good morning," she muttered, focusing on making sure that her blush looked natural enough.
He gave her neck a soft kiss, inhaling the intoxication scent of her soap and shampoo. It was some fancy perfume brand, he knew, from the smell. She changed it every few months, and it was hard to keep track of what she was using, since she never really used the same brand more than a few times. He thought it was oddly arousing. Ridding those thoughts for the moment, he smiled, leaning towards his wife a bit more and giving her neck another few kisses.
"Mmm," she hummed, leaning her head on his shoulder, abandoning her eyeliner. "If you don't stop, you won't be able to go to the Ministry."
"Ministry," he murmured, flicking his tongue out and tasting her skin. "Right. Gimme a second," he muttered against her skin, lightly nibbling.
"Harry," she murmured, placing her hands on his thighs and spreading them farther apart so he'd get what she was saying. "You have to go."
Giving her neck one last, soft peck, he got up and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I have my cell," he told her. "I should be back in less than an hour or so, I guess."
She nodded, and he gave her shoulder a soft kiss before leaving the room. Quickly walking towards his son's room, he saw that Andrew was still in a light sleep. Walking a bit farther into the room, he made sure that he was secure and warm enough before giving him a soft kiss on the cheek and leaving the room.
Stuffing his wallet into his jeans, he took his keys and left to go to the Ministry.
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"Fuck," Harry muttered, looking at his reflection. He had the tips of his hair glamour charmed blue, while the lower half stayed it's natural jet black. More over, only one of his eyes decided to change to the designated metallic silver, rather than both. "Must be the electricity around here," he muttered to himself, getting out of the car. "I'll just go into an alley and do it, then." He rolled his eyes, locking his car securely and went to make himself a bit more normal.
A few minutes later, with both his eyes now metallic silver, and his hair a shade of dirty blond, Harry started walking towards the Ministry. Quickly remembering that he'd stand out, once again, he took a random pebble and transfigured it into a robe. Putting it on and fastening it at the middle so his muggle clothing would be obscured, he made sure that there was nothing else he needed to do before walking into a magical building. After deeming himself clear enough (he snorted at the thought), he entered through the building doors.
It was crowded, more so than usual. Although, he and Hermione had only been there once, and it was with their son, so people had, sort of, stayed clear of them. But now that he was alone, people didn't pay much attention, for neither him nor his personal space. Trying his best to get to the front desk, where the same woman from before was sitting, he turned to his side and tried to basically slide through the throngs of the people.
It wasn't even fifteen seconds before he managed to get to the front desk. The woman, upon seeing Harry, smiled brightly. "Good morning, sir," she greeted happily, eyes dancing around his facial and physical features. He felt oddly naked. "How may I help you?"
Harry figured that he'd give his try at the American accent, knowing that she'd ask more questions if she heard his British accent. "Uh, yeah," he said, putting his elbows on the table and looking at her in the eyes. "I need a portkey that's a safe for a pregnant woman, and an international travel portkey."
She started scribbling on her parchment, nodding as he said each word. "Name and ID?" she asked, still looking at the parchment.
Harry thought fast. "Michael Zeh," he answered. "And as for my ID…" He took out his wallet, looking for his own drivers licence, and quickly put an illusion charm (he faintly wondered how he still remembered theses charms after nearly living as a muggle for the past four years) on a few things of it. Making sure that his picture had the current `improvements' and same with a few minor persona details, he handed it to her.
She looked at it oddly. "What is that?" she asked, holding it between her fingers.
"I'm Muggleborn, and this is what we usually use for ID," he said, shrugging. "In America, that's what we used," he half lied. "Just, look at the name and other things on there."
"Right," she muttered, only looking at his name and picture, making sure that it really was him. After shrugging-she still had no idea what this thing was-she handed it back to him and wrote her signature on the bottom of the parchment. Standing up, she took her wand out and muttered something, in which the quill floated in mid air, as if ready to write requests on command. "Okay, Mister Zeh, follow me."
"Okay," he said, following her to wherever she was going. He'd only been to the Ministry a few times, and currently he had no idea where she was going. They travelled up a few flights of stairs until they got to a semi-private room, where only a few people were roaming around, seemingly waiting for their portkeys.
"Mister Zeh, sit here, and wait for your request to be fulfilled. The portkey that'll be safe for pregnancy, however, will take a few minutes longer, but the international travel will only take a few minutes, after you fill out the forum." Taking the form from under her few parchments, she handed him it and said, "A quill and table are over there, and when you're finished, just put it in the box over there, and wait until your name is called."
"Okay, thank you," Harry said.
She nodded. "Good day, Mister Zeh," she said, walking away.
Grabbing a quill, he dipped it in the ink and started filling out the required areas. After a minute or two of filling out the area, time, and date of which the portkey was supposed to be activated and where it was going to travel, Harry put it in the bin, watching it disintegrate and supposedly go to the man-or woman-making the portkeys.
He sat on a nearby chair, absently drumming his fingers on the arm of the seat. He took his cell phone out, and then remembered it was nearly useless because of all the magical activity going around. Shoving it back into his front pocket, he resumed his drumming.
It wasn't long before he heard, "Mister Zeh!" Standing up, he walked through the door, where an old, ripped book was resting, next to a large slip of yellowed parchment. The man, who was dressed in a robe too large for him, started explaining. "The book, Mister Zeh, is the pregnancy safe portkey. It is safe for women still nursing, pregnant, and children under the age of two, in case you have a child under that age. It will activate at the time you had given, so I certainly hope you will remember what time you wrote down." Harry nodded, the time clear in his mind, and glad that it'd be safe for Andrew, too. "As for the parchment, that is the international travelling portkey. This is not safe for pregnant women or children under the age of two, and if you're five minutes late touching the portkey, you will have to come back and pay a fee to reactivate it."
Harry nodded, taking the information in. "Alright, then," he said. "How much do I have to pay?"
"Four galleons and 7 knuts, approximately," the man answered immediately. "Pregnancy safe portkeys are more expensive, sine you have to place extra charms on it, but the rest are standard price," he explained.
Harry nodded, taking out his wallet. Smiling when he saw the exact amount in there-he still had no idea how that the one card he'd gotten years ago still worked-he took them out and handed it to him. Nodding, he put the money in different bins, galleons and Knuts and sickles were all placed in different ones, and said, "Good day, sir."
"You too," said Harry, gathering the two portkeys and leaving the room.
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It hadn't taken him long before he left the Ministry again. Quickly turning to the alley he was at before, he charmed his hair and eyes to their natural colours. Getting in the car, the portkeys going on the seat next to his, he put the car in ignition, and turning the radio on to a popular rock station, he drove away.
Around fifteen to twenty minutes later, Harry pulled into the lot of the building, looking for his parking space. Finding it, he parked and made sure his car wasn't off centre before turning it off. Grabbing the two portkeys, he got out of the car and locked it, intent on getting back to his wife and child.
Once he reached their floor, he got out of the lift and went towards their door. Putting the key in the hole, he turned and opened, smiling when he saw Hermione feeding Andrew a slice of cheese. "Hey Harry," Hermione greeted, though she made no move to lift her head.
He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, then one to the top of Andrew's head, and then proceeding to place the portkey book and parchment on the table. Quickly kicking off his shoes, he sat on the floor, picking Andrew up and placing him on his lap, chuckling when Andrew squealed and lift his hands up high. Shaking his head, he gave him another kiss and pat his son's stomach, who was now being fed more easily by Hermione.
"He refused to eat the peas I gave him earlier, so that's why he's all messy," Hermione told him, handing Andrew another piece of cheese. "So then I decided that it'd be better-and less messy-if I fed him today."
Harry nodded. "The portkey is set to activate in two hours for now, to go to Hogsmeade," he told her, pointing to the book, "So, about… 12:30." She nodded. "The man assured that it was safe for you and for Andrew, and since I had to pay extra for it, I'm sure that the man wasn't lying. And the parchment is the portkey so I can go to Matt, back in Palo Alto."
"I thought you were going to make the portkey yourself?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.
Harry shrugged. "Changed my mind," he told her easily.
She rolled her eyes, getting up. She extended her hand to Andrew, to which he held on and started giggling. "Andrew, you messy little boy, it's time to get cleaned."
Harry grinned, jumping up. "He can't go three hours without having to get cleaned, can he?"
She shook her head. "Never. He is a Potter, after all." She smirked and mother and child walked away.
"I, at least, last four," Harry muttered playfully, taking the bowls and going into the kitchen.
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The wait hadn't been that long, but after cleaning Andrew up, Harry eating some more, and Hermione cleaning everything, they were starting to get tired, and it was just barely past noon. Hermione had laid Andrew in his stroller, patting his stomach so he'd sleep. They felt that, though they weren't going to charm their hair and eye colours, they knew that it'd be best if Andrew was sleeping.
Harry had gone into his and Hermione's room and took a pair of his old, torn socks (I knew they'd come in use, he thought) and transfigured them into two standard size robes. He put his on and gave Hermione hers. "Don't want another repetition of Diagon Alley, do we?" he asked before she could ask.
She put it on, carefully wrapping it around her so that it didn't give even the slightest hint that she was expecting. Although she knew that she was barely showing right now, she never thought it was bad to be cautious. She walked over towards the door, where she had her flats (she found they were always a bit more comfortable and a lot easier to put on rather then her athletic shoes) and put them on, straightening out her shirt afterwards. The shirt is starting to get snug, Hermione thought mournfully. I love carrying Harry's child, but I hate gaining the weight.
"Ready?" Harry asked, kneeling by the stroller. He had one hand on Andrew's stomach and his elbow was on the stroller, while the other was holding the portkeyed book. "The portkey should activate soon." She nodded, walking over and touched the book. Checking the time, she noted that it was quickly nearing half past noon.
They waited in silence for the few minutes. Soon they found themselves in the familiar sensation of being transported, though it felt less intense. In no time, they found themselves in the exact positions they were in, except they were in Hogsmeade. After making sure Andrew was still sleeping, he stood up and quickly put the hood over his head, noticing Hermione already had hers up. Taking hold of the bar of the stroller, he laced his fingers through Hermione's and they started their way towards Hogwarts.
The atmosphere hadn't changed much, though they hadn't expected it to. There were children-ranging from the young ones with their parents, from the elderly managing old shops-roaming around everywhere, happily playing around. There were a few people who stared at the Potters, but it didn't last long, because they adverted their attention to more interesting things.
Harry just whished people were more like that during his school days.
"Are we going the right way?" Hermione asked softly, furrowing her eyebrows. "I think we should've-"
"No," he interjected gently. "This is the right way, trust me. This was a shortcut I used to take."
She raised a thin eyebrow, but said nothing. Not long after, they reached the gates to Hogwarts. The gates were open already, perhaps because it was a Hogsmeade weekend, but he wasn't too sure. Ridding those thoughts from his head they made their way towards the large castle. There weren't many people out, probably because they were in class, or at lunch, he reasoned.
Walking around the halls, they were grateful that no teachers were roaming around. However, their luck was cut short when a prefect stood in front of them, glaring suspiciously at them. "Who are you and what games are you playing at?" he asked, his tone holding an edge to it.
"We just want to see the Headmaster," Harry answered evenly.
"We're just paying a visit to our old Professor," Hermione then provided.
"Show yourself," said he, not believing a word they'd said.
"Why?" Harry shot back.
"I'll turn you in if you don't," he replied.
"You would've done so the moment you saw us if you were taking your duties seriously," the eldest Potter said, starting to get agitated.
Hermione took her hood down, pulling Harry's down a mere moment later, not even bothering to reprimand him for yelling at a teenager. The prefect's eyes widened dramatically, seeing Harry first.
"See?" Hermione muttered, shaking her head. "We're not Death Eaters or anything. We just want to see McGonagall." Boys are so stupid, she thought. Lord, and I thought at twenty-one he would've matured slightly.
"Why should I let you two here?" he muttered.
Now Hermione started getting mad. "Listen, kid," Hermione muttered, "let us see-"
"Hermione, sweetheart," intervened Harry, wrapping his arms around her shoulders gently. "Don't kill the kid."
She glared at her husband. "I was not going to `kill' him," she defended, taking hold of the stroller bar and glaring at the fifteen-year-old prefect. "I was just going to tell him that I was pregnant, and my raging hormones were surfacing."
"Tell me about it," he muttered.
"What is this?" ordered a stern voice, and the two eldest Potters looked up. It was McGonagall. "One of my prefects complained of seeing a fake Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."
"Professor McGonagall, we are Harry and Hermione," said Hermione.
"Surely it cannot be," she inaudible gasped, her eyes widening.
Harry nodded. "It is, Professor. Hermione and I have come to pay you a little `visit,' of sorts." He shrugged, not too affected that she was still staring at them. "We have a few questions we'd like you to answer." He grinned, "But we're not going to interrogate you."
She nodded, faintly registering that this were her real students. But why after so many years? And the `questions,' as they say? Are they talking about what happened four years ago? she wondered, knitting her eyebrows together. She shook her head once, and then said, "Follow me, then."
They wordlessly nodded and followed her.
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Harry groaned. He found this very hard to believe. After four years, word of McGonagall's favour to the Potter's wasn't published anywhere at all. The papers and press had only heard Ginny and Ron's side of their tall tale, not the actual truth. She and Flitwick (who was currently Headmaster, much to the Potters surprise) had tried their best at getting anything that would set the rumours aside. But no such luck.
"So you're trying to tell us, that you couldn't do anything because you weren't being published?" demanded Harry, though his voice was soft.
Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples. This is so out of character for McGonagall. Sighing, she rubbed her stomach, hoping to calm herself down a bit.
"Look, Mister Potter," sighed McGonagall, "your Professor and I did so much, but even we have our limits. We went to the headquarters of The Daily Prophet, they even promised us an interview, but they never published it. Instead, they printed more of the rubbish the Weasleys had been proclaiming." She shook her head, closing her eyes. "The Quibbler hadn't published anything since Mister Lovegood's death, so that was obviously out of the question. He and I even considered making a public announcement, but the Ministry had intervened, threatening to cut our school's funding."
"But I thought Hogwarts supplies itself?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," she answered evenly. "Where do you think we get our books? Our other school supplies? Potter, we aren't able to pay anything, and even the books need updating every once in a while. The Ministry has been giving our school some money for all of that, and if either Fillius or I tried to say anything about you, they said they'd cut our funding."
"But you still have the tuition money from the students," Harry retorted. "That's more than enough, isn't it?"
She shook her head. "You've got to keep in mind; there are teachers to pay, brooms to supply, the plants, animals," she continued. "You've never controlled a school; therefore you don't know what or where or why the money goes."
He rolled his eyes, sighing. "Okay, fine. Whatever, I guess," he muttered, leaning back on his seat. "I don't want to get into arguments with you, but I'm just…" He shrugged.
She nodded, understanding. After a few moments of silence, she looked at Hermione. "Miss Granger, or should I say Misses Potter?" she wondered, smiling softly.
"Misses Potter," Hermione answered, smiling.
She nodded, "Misses Potter, then. If you don't mind me asking, what happened after you left?"
"This is, what, the third time we've explained things?" she muttered to herself, raising one eyebrow.
"Second," Harry answered, putting the blanket a bit more over Andrew. "The Weasleys didn't really count."
"Right," she murmured, sitting straighter in her seat. "Well, after the war ended, I decided to retrieve my parents. Harry suggested he go too, and I agreed. After we were in Australia and my parents remembered everything, they returned to the UK while we decided to go somewhere else. We didn't want to return." She paused briefly. "Harry and I then applied to the Muggle University, Stanford, in California, USA. We got in shortly after, and started that same exact fall. We were married in February, 1999, and Andrew was born September second of 2000." She paused, placing her hand atop of Harry's. He understood what she meant.
"Their health started failing quickly after," he continued, looking in his old professor's eyes, "and they were hospitalized two months ago. Hermione's mother has pneumonia, while…" His eyes fell downcast. "While her father died of heart failure."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," murmured McGonagall.
They nodded and said nothing.
"Mumma," cried a small voice. Three heads snapped towards the young boy, and they saw Andrew sitting straight up, tears streaming down his face. "Ooww…" He sniffled.
Quickly, Harry unbuckled Andrew and held him close to his chest, patting his back. "What's wrong, son?" he whispered, alternation from rubbing and patting his back.
"Owww," he cried softly, wrapping only one arm around his father's neck.
"Harry," said Hermione, ignoring McGonagall completely and focusing fully on her son, "I think something happened to his arm."
He nodded and gently held his son's left arm. Andrew winced and started crying louder. "Shh Andrew," he murmured to his son. "Hermione, pull his sleeve up and see what's wrong. I think he hurt it while he was sleeping, or something."
She nodded and quickly checked her son. He had a thin scratch near his elbow, and though it wasn't bleeding, she knew it must've hurt a small child of his age. "Oh Andrew," she murmured, giving his back a soft kiss, frowning when he cried even more.
"Is there anything I can do?" asked McGonagall suddenly. "Perhaps a quick healing spell, or a salve or even a potion?" she suggested.
"A spell would be quickest," answered Hermione. "If you don't mind, that is."
She nodded and pointed her wand at Andrew's arm. Muttering softly, she saw the spell leave her wand. The Potters watched as his wound slowly shrunk and then disappeared. Andrew slowly stopped crying, and then stopped fully, taking a few moments to look at his arm. "Papa," he whispered, two sets of emerald eyes meeting.
Harry smiled, giving his forehead a soft kiss. "You're okay, Andrew," he whispered. "You're not hurt anymore."
Smiling softly, Hermione gave Andrew's back and head a soft kiss before turning to McGonagall. "I'm sorry that we were cut short, but you know how things are with children."
She nodded. "Yes, but be glad that he isn't able to run around and pull pranks, yet," she smiled. "Well then, I suppose you'll want to leave. I'm sorry that we didn't have a chance to talk. Perhaps we can meet again sometime?"
"Perhaps," answered Harry, still holding Andrew.
She nodded. "Well then, Mister and Misses Potter, I suppose you could see yourself out, unless you've forgotten the way? I have a seventh year NEWT class to teach, and I don't want to disappoint my students by being late."
"We don't need a guide," Harry replied, standing up. "I don't think we'll ever forget, actually."
"Well, good day then," she nodded, giving them a brief smile before fixing her crisp, emerald robe and standing up. She left her office first, leaving the door slightly ajar for the Potter family.
"C'mon then," Hermione murmured, standing up.
"So we basically came here for no reason?" wondered Harry, also standing up, not letting go of Andrew. He was going to hold him right now, he decided. He didn't feel like letting his son go.
"No," she responded, holding the stroller and exiting the office, knowing Harry was close behind. "We understood a little part of why McGonagall and Flitwick never did anything. It was because they couldn't," she explained patiently.
Harry nodded and followed her. "The portkey will activate when I tap it three times," he told her minutes later. Sometime during their walk towards the gates of Hogwarts, Hermione had managed to put their hoods up once more. He hadn't realized it at first, but afterwards he just shrugged it off, knowing Hermione would do something without him even knowing it.
"Ready?" asked Hermione, taking the portkey from his robe pocket and tapping it two times with her wand.
"Ready," he muttered, making sure Hermione was holding the portkey and the stroller, and he the book and Andrew. She let go of the stroller but touched her foot to it instead, and tapped the portkey for a third time. Before they even knew it, they travelled from Scotland to England.
Author's Notes: I'm going bonkers, and I'm sleepy. Rawr.
How was it? Tell me ze good, ze bad, and ze corny.
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