Chapter Text
Lily paced back and forth across Bill’s room, listening to the hushed voices in the kitchen talking. James sat on the bed, staring at the wall, tear tracks still evident on his face.
“Are you sure you’re alright for the meeting tonight, James?” Lily asked, again.
James looked up at her briefly, “Of course, you’re going to be there.”
“Not if you don’t want me to. We can stay up here. One of the Weasleys can fill us in later on everything that is said,” Lily said, kneeling down to be in front of him.
He reached out and grasped her hand tightly, “So you don’t think I’m a coward?” He asked quietly.
“Never,” Lily said.
James looked like he was considering it for a moment before bringing their clasped hands up to kiss her fingers, “No, we need to go.”
“Alright, as long as you’re sure,” Lily acquiesced.
“Sirius isn’t going to get any less dead. I can mourn later. There’s a war going on, and we’re already so far out of the loop,” James said, pushing up his glasses to wipe his eyes.
“I know,” Lily said, standing to begin her pacing again. “Is that really all he said? That Dumbledore needs him to go find some things in some places ?”
James sighed, “Don’t forget he’s ‘The Chosen One,’ whatever that means.”
“Ten galleons I can tell you who told him that,” Lily said, clenching her jaw trying her best not to seethe.
James scoffed. He paused for a moment and then looked at her hesitantly, “What are we going to do about Dudley?”
Lily groaned, “I don’t know. We can’t leave him here, and he can’t stay near Harry. I hate saying it, but he’s not good for Harry. It’s obvious having his cousin here isn’t helping him. I don’t know what happened between them, but everyone else has made that part very clear.”
“Mad-Eye said there was a cousin in Wales. Maybe he actually found somebody?” James asked.
“So that’s it, his parents die and we just ship him off?” Lily asked.
“Do you have any other ideas?” James asked, voice strained.
No, she didn’t. If she was being honest with herself, she was only trying to make up for lost time. It was almost as if she loved her nephew enough that she could make up for the fact that her sister abused her son for over a decade over a grudge . It was almost as if she was trying to prove she was a better person than Petunia one last time; one last spiteful gesture.
That was her old grudge talking.
Her own feelings were irrelevant. Her son came first. Harry is the most important person in her life, and if his cousin made him uncomfortable, then it wasn’t a matter of if Dudley was leaving, it was when .
Fred slipped upstairs to retrieve them for the meeting soon after. They entered to find a jam packed kitchen. There were no outbursts or shocked exclamations at their arrival, so Tonks and Arthur must have explained well enough–as promised. Molly passed around dinner to everyone, taking her own spot beside Arthur. Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, with idle chatter. The waiting was almost worse than if they had come down and the meeting was in full swing.
“The Ministry still hasn’t called a hearing about all that underage magic I used to defend myself from the Death Eaters?” Harry called across the table to Arthur.
Arthur shook his head, “No. Scrimgeour has been keeping a lot quiet these days, though, so I wouldn’t read too much into it, Harry.”
“Isn’t anyone prepared to stand up to him?” Ron said, angrily, setting his knife down beside his plate.
Arthur sighed, “Of course, Ron. But people are terrified! They don’t want to be the next person to go missing, or to have their kids attacked. A sentiment I can sympathize with,” Arthur shot his son a dark look before resuming to cut his food, “That matter aside, the Daily Prophet can say whatever it wants, I don’t think that Muggle Studies teacher resigned. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
Ron looked like he was going to argue further, but Molly cut him off, “Have you finished cleaning your room yet, Ron?”
If that was supposed to calm Ron down, it only did the opposite, “Why?” He slammed his knife down and it clattered against his plate, “Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!”
“We are holding your brother’s wedding here in a few days–” Molly began.
“They’re not getting married in my room,” Ron scoffed.
“That’s enough, Ron. Don’t speak to your mother that way. Do as you’re told,” Arthur spoke up.
Ron slunk down in his chair, stabbing at his dinner sullenly with his fork.
“I can help,” Harry offered, “Some of it is my mess.”
“Nonsense, dear, Arthur needs help out in the chicken coop,” Molly said.
Harry slunk down slightly in his chair as well.
The meeting wasn’t a long affair. Hagrid spoke about the Ministry coming to Hogwarts more and more each passing day. All the restrictions sounded stifling. Lily was sort of glad Harry wouldn’t be going anymore. Mundungus Fletcher, as he introduced himself, spoke of back-alley deals and growing tensions, even amongst some of the most shady wizards. Lily looked around at the people sitting at the table and knew that everyone felt the same way she did–the war is in full swing. At least this was familiar: the fear, the missing people, the dead muggles.
Time may have changed things, but war would never change.
It made her chest ache that her son was seventeen and the world was still like this. She had always assumed the war would be long over by now. It was unfair that her son had to go through this too.
Mad-Eye’s funeral was every bit as painful as she imagined it would be. He was already wrapped in a sheet, the hole was dug. Tonks spoke of his mentorship and his legacy. Bill spoke of his paranoia, causing everyone to laugh, ‘constant vigilance,’ James had murmured.
Towards the end of the ceremony, the sky darkened, and it began to rain.
It was as if the sky was mourning, too.
Days passed, and the Burrow became frazzled with a flurry of people. Charlie Weasley, Bill’s best man, arrived from Romania, and The Delacour's arrived from France. The already crowded home began to burst at the seams. Lily offered for them to leave, and Molly waved her off. ‘Nonsense,’ she had said, bustling off to clean some other room that had already been cleaned several times.
She pulled Molly aside as the days creeped closer to July thirty-first, and asked her about doing something small for Harry’s birthday.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, dear,” Molly said, one day, piling dishes back into the cupboard, “We usually have something small at the house here for him every summer. We should ask him what he wants to do. Hagrid could stop by, and Tonks and Lupin. Not too many people, of course. His favorite people, though.”
Lily tried to ignore the pang in her chest. She needed to get a hold on her emotions. Jealousy could rot a person from the inside out.
His favorite people . Molly’s statement continued to rattle around in her brain. It echoed in her mind as she worked up the courage the next morning to ask Harry about his birthday. She watched the boys out in the chicken coop. Ron said something that made Harry laugh, and Lily wished she’d had her old Polaroid camera. The sky was a soft blue, with puffy white clouds. There was a soft breeze that made her curls brush up against her cheeks, making her skin itch slightly.
His favorite people .
Molly came out the back door, the laundry on her hip. She paused at Lily sitting on the steps watching the boys.
Lily looked up at her, and she looked at her with a knowing, motherly look on her face, “Have you asked him, yet?”
His favorite people .
“No,” she admitted.
Molly looked back over at the boys and then readjusted the basket on her hip, “Would you like me to ask?”
Lily hated herself for the relief that flooded her, and she nodded. She watched as Molly marched over to the boys and spoke to Harry. Molly continued talking to them as they walked back from the chicken coop. She must’ve put them back to work straight away because both the boys began grabbing wet clothes out of the basket and tossing them over the line. Lily knew the exact moment that Molly asked: Harry had looked anxious before stumbling over his words and Lily faintly heard him ask not to do anything big.
“Seventeen is an important day, Harry. We have to do something,” Molly huffed, putting her hands on her hips.
“A simple dinner is alright. I really don’t want a big fuss, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.
“Alright, dear, if you’re sure,” Molly conceded, that same patient, fond look on her face that she always had for Lily’s son.
That night, Lily stared up at Bill’s ceiling–he was bunking with the twins until the wedding–Molly’s words still as loud as when she first said them.
His favorite people.
Harry’s favorite people .
Even James' soft breathing that normally lulled her right to sleep wasn’t enough to drone out the words. She turned her head to shove her face in James’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, and squeezing her eyes shut tightly. If she matched his breathing carefully and attempted to clear her mind, she would fall asleep.
His favorite people .
Lily sighed and clung to James’s arm slung over her tighter. She would go to sleep now. Her brain be damned, she would sleep.
His favorite people .
Maybe it would be alright if she checked on Harry. Lily tried not to do it anymore; Harry wasn’t a baby and he could most certainly sleep through the night on his own.
It wouldn’t hurt to check.
Moving as slowly as she could, Lily slipped James arm off of her and set it softly on the mattress. She shoved her pillow into his grasp when his face scrunched up and his hand began to slide around on the bed looking for her. She slipped out into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind her. Lily took her time on the stairs, being careful to avoid the ones she always saw Harry step over.
She stalled outside of Ron’s bedroom door for several minutes. This was ridiculous. She really should just go back to bed.
Despite her internal turmoil, she slowly pushed the door open. The soft moonlight from the window glowed softly against Harry’s face. Lily let out a breath of relief at the sight of her son breathing soft and slow.
Lily shook her head and backed out of the room. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see other than Harry asleep, but the voice had quieted nonetheless.
It was okay that she didn’t know Harry’s favorite people.
She could learn.
This time, after she wrangled her pillow out of James’s arm and curled back up beside him, her husband’s quiet breathing pulled her right to sleep.
The following morning was spent bustling around the burrow to prepare for their guests to arrive. Lily woke up early, just as the sun began to rise, and spent the morning in the tiny kitchen baking Harry’s cake. There were several ingredients and bowls spread out across the counters by the time Molly came down for the morning. She didn’t say anything about the state of the kitchen, though. They got to work together quietly, but not awkwardly. Molly moved around the kitchen, swishing her wand and getting breakfast on the stove.
It was sort of nice being in the kitchen again. Lily had loved baking with her mother and sister when she was a little girl. It was odd to be baking alone. Once she had grown up, it had become only Lily and her mother baking in the summer. By that point, Petunia had lost all affection for Lily, and putting them in the same room together was like setting a live bomb to detonate.
After school, long after both her parents were dead and Petunia no longer responded to her letters, Lily would bake in her small flat with Mary. All their friends were moving into wizarding communities, but the other Muggleborn girl had the same draw towards a Muggle city. It was only after Lily and Mary had moved into the duplex in Barnet that James announced he and Sirius were moving into a flat together in Camden.
When he first told her, Lily felt the fiery rage build up in her–the fury that had filled her bones as long as she could remember. The goofy smile on his face when he said it, made all her indignation melt away instantly. In the end, it was nice to have the boys close by.
There were long days of baking in that flat. Lily and Mary would spend entire Saturday’s pulling baking sheets in and out of the oven. In the evening, they would sit on the couch with their goods spread out all across the coffee table, laughing along with the telly as they ate everything they had made.
Sometimes, James and Sirius would swing by and they would attempt to make something. Sirius was always swiping a finger along the batter when they turned their backs, ‘Quality Control’ he would always claim with a smirk. James was always so careful baking. He would drag his finger along the recipe book, double checking every line.
James loved to bake.
Honestly, she wasn’t sure who had baked more while they were in hiding. Sometimes, it felt like every morning she walked downstairs James would have something cooling in the windowsill already.
Lily felt hands snake around her waist, and James kissed her on the cheek, “What are you thinking about?”
Lily smiled, leaning back, “You.”
James laughed and raised an eyebrow, “Oh, Miss Evans, better be careful someone might think you actually like me.”
“It’s Mrs. Potter,” Lily corrected him, turning to kiss him, “And I like you very much.”
People slowly filtered into the kitchen throughout the course of the morning. James and Bill prattled on with Monsieur Delacour for a majority of the morning. Lily wasn’t sure quite what about, James could charm a Goblin into an amiable conversation if he was so inclined.
Lily was piling her various bowls into the sink when Arthur called for her and James to come speak with him. He led them out onto the back porch.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black box, “I wanted to ask you both something,” he said, meeting their eyes. He carefully opened the box, and revealed a gold watch with stars on the face, and an ever so small dent, “I know that it’s tradition for a wizarding family to hand down a watch on their child’s seventeenth birthday. I, well,” Arthur stammered, “We don’t want to overstep. This was Fabian’s, Molly’s brother’s, watch. We’ve had it said aside for Harry for a few years now.”
It was a beautiful watch.
Lily blinked slowly, trying not to cry. There was so much love in this house for Harry. It was nice to know that, even with Petunia treating Harry so awful, he still knew some sort of parental love.
She had forgotten this tradition, though. It never felt important before. She remembered Sirius cradling a gold pocket watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing he had ever owned, on November third, 1976. She sat beside him on the couches in Gryffindor Tower after his party and he whispered that it was from Fleamont Potter. She hadn’t thought much of the watch’s significance because that following March James had also had a new gold watch on his wrist. She had assumed it was something the Potters did.
James shook his head and closed the box, placing his hand over Arthur’s, “No, you aren’t overstepping. It’s a beautiful watch. He’ll love it.”
Arthur looked uncertain, “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” James clapped him on the shoulder with a smile and a wink, “I’ve got something special for him, too, don’t worry.”
Arthur nodded before tucking the box back in his jacket and heading back into the kitchen to say goodbye to Molly and his children before leaving for work.
Lily turned to James once the door was pulled shut, “You have something special for Harry? When did you have time to get something?”
She felt a little embarrassed now. She hadn’t thought to grab anything important from their home at Godric’s Hollow. Her present for Harry was the cake freshly cooled and frosted on the counter.
James, seeming to know her line of thinking, smiled his goofy smile and held up his hand, “Don’t worry. I had it on me the whole time.”
“Your ring?” Lily gasped. James had come home with it after his father’s funeral.
He twisted the small gold band with the red crest slightly, “I know it’s a little early, but technically he should already have this. He should’ve gotten it when I died. It’s only right he gets it now.”
Lily ran her thumb over the Potter crest, “He’s going to love it.”
“I hope so,” James said softly, still twisting the ring, “Ready for breakfast?”
“Starving.”
The morning rolled on slowly. Harry was taking his time sleeping for the day it seemed. She wasn’t upset, though. It was his birthday, after all, he could have a lie-in if he wanted one. The kitchen had become rather sparse by the time Harry and Ron bumbled down the stairs together. Lily could hear Ron’s voice get louder as they walked closer. The only people left in the room other than her and James were Hermione, Bill, Monsieur Delacour, and Molly.
Harry’s patented Potter hair was sticking up in every direction as he entered the kitchen. It was clear he had only woken up recently.
“Happy birthday, Harry!” Molly said from where she stood at the stove, tending to the sausages, “Arthur said he’s sorry he missed you, but to tell you happy birthday. That’s our present there on top,” she gestured with the spatula to the small pile of presents on the kitchen table.
Harry went over to the kitchen table and sat beside James. Lily leaned on the back of James’s chair as Harry reached for the small box on top. He let out a soft gasp as he opened it.
Molly rang her hands anxiously as she watched him look at it, “I’m sorry it's not new like Ron’s. It was my brother Fabian’s actually…”
Harry cut her off, “It’s perfect.”
Lily watched as Harry got up and went to hug her, and if Lily saw Molly wiping tears from her eyes when they pulled away, then it was nobody’s business. Harry carefully made his way through all of his presents, holding each one with the kind of reverence a priest would hold a holy object. It wasn’t until after Hermione scurried away with Harry’s new found belongings that James pulled Harry into the hall.
Lily moved to help Molly clean up from breakfast, leaving her boys to have their moment. Lily listened as she rambled on about Harry’s birthday party. She noticed that Molly tended to ramble when she became anxious, so she let the older woman talk at her as they cleaned.
The day was peaceful; a perfect day for Harry.
It was just as Lily thought this when Ron stormed out through the kitchen a few minutes later, Harry and Hermione flying out the door behind him.
She watched out the back window as the boys stood on the lawn arguing. It didn’t last long, and she saw the moment Ron deflated, rubbing his hand sheepishly along the nape of his neck. She turned back to the sink in an effort to not be caught eavesdropping as the boys headed back into the house.
Whatever had happened, Ron and Harry seemed to be fine later that afternoon when they were speaking to Charlie Weasley in the living room. The three boys were full of laughter as they spoke.
Charlie looked much like the other Weasleys she had met; tall, lanky, freckled, and a mop of curly red hair. He seemed to take after his older brother, Bill, in the hair department. His red curls hung down to his shoulders–something that Molly did not seem all too pleased about, which was later confirmed when he walked outside with his curls chopped to above his ears.
Suspiciously, the other Weasley boys made themselves scarce.
Dudley was also a rare sight today, as he had come to do most days. Lily was sure if she went upstairs to Charlie’s old room, she’d find him curled in bed reading his comic books. He rarely showed his face around the Burrow anymore. Lily and James took turns carrying up food and checking on him each day, but he hadn’t become any more inclined to join anyone outside of the room.
They really needed to figure out what to do with him. After the wedding, she told herself, then they would take him to that cousin in Wales.
The decorations for the party were a beautiful mix of purple and yellow. There were purple lanterns with yellow streamers floating in the air, courtesy of Hermione and the twins. James held the gate open for Lily as she carried the large cake out to the back garden. Harry was already sitting at one end of the long table, so she carried the cake down to him.
“Happy birthday, Harry,” she said, setting it in front of him.
He looked down at the cake, “Did you make this?”
“Yes, does it look alright?”
“It’s brilliant,” Harry looked up at her with a smile. Hesitantly, he stood up and hugged her. It was loose and awkward, but Lily loved every second of it. She squeezed him back tightly.
She leaned down and kissed his head before attempting to smooth his untamable hair down, “Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks, Mum,” he said quietly, leaning into her touch.
She caught sight of the glint of the new gold band on his hand from the sun slowly sinking beyond the hill as Harry spoke animatedly with Ron. She smiled, content to watch her son talk happily with his friends.
There were a scant amount of party guests–as predicted–but Harry seemed pleased by every single one. Remus and Tonks got an especially warm welcome when they walked down the lane. Harry hugged Remus tightly and he had to duck from Tonks when she tried to put him in a headlock. Lily had known Hagrid was coming, but it was still a shock to see him. He had been at the Order meeting, but they hadn’t had a moment to speak.
“Seventeen!” Hagrid laughed, after hugging Harry, “Six years ter the day since we met Harry. Remember it?”
“Sort of,” Harry scrunched up his face, “I remember you smashed down the door to the cabin and told me I was a wizard.”
“I don’ remember the details,” Hagrid waved, then he let out a big belly laugh, “I’ll ne’er forget the look on yer’ uncle’s face when I bent that shotgun.”
“I’m sorry did you say a shotgun?” James asked.
This conversation was not abating the pit of guilt swallowing her soul that Lily had been fighting damn near all week to be rid of. There was so much they didn’t know. Here was another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things about Harry’s life that didn’t make sense.
She wanted to ask Hagrid why he was the one to tell Harry he was a wizard, but she was a little afraid of the answer.
Lily never got a chance to ask.
Arthur’s patronus, a weasel, came bounding into the garden, “The Minister is coming with me.”
As the patronus faded into silvery whisps, the conversations came to an abrupt halt. Lupin and Tonks stood up quickly, muttering a quick apology to Harry and then apparating away.
Molly hurried over to her and James, “Quickly, you must get inside. Go upstairs.”
“Wait!’ Lily pulled her arms from James’s grip and turned to Harry.
Harry spoke before she could, “It’s alright, Mum. Go inside. I’ll be alright.”
Hagrid nodded, “I’ll stay with ‘im, Lily.”
She pulled him into a hug from where he sat and kissed the top of his head one last time before running with James into the Burrow.
“Quickly, get upstairs, and stay down from the windows. We can’t risk him seeing you,” Molly said, pushing them towards the stairs.
“Why is the Minister here?” Lily asked James, wringing her hands, a desperate tone in her voice as she paced around Bill’s room.
James bit his lip and shook his head, “I don’t know, but we can find out.”
“What?”
He ignored her and pressed a finger to his lips, placing his ear against the door to Bill’s room.
“Okay, come on,” he whispered to her, slowly pulling the door open.
He led her up the stairs, and she caught his arm before he stepped on one of the more creaky steps. Cautiously, they made their way up to Ron and Harry’s room. Lily carefully shut the door behind her, and as soon as it was shut, James began digging through Harry’s belongings.
“What are you doing?” Lily hissed at him, still whispering.
“Aha!” James whisper-yelled, pulling something out of Harry’s trunk.
“Is that…?”
“My cloak? Yeah,” James smirked, “Come on, let’s find out what’s going on.”
They closed the door to Ron’s room before James swung the cloak over the both of them. They climbed slowly back down the stairs, pausing every time the house groaned from the summer wind. They were shuffling their way through the sitting room towards the front door when Ron, Hermione, Harry, and an old, scraggly man who must have been the Minister came in through the kitchen. James and Lily shuffled back, pressing their backs against the wall in the sitting room as the four of them brushed past.
Harry and his friends sat on the couch while the Minister sat across from them on the armchair.
Lily tried very hard to make her breaths even and quiet. She had to elbow James, as he was practically hyperventilating. He had choked out a soft, ‘sorry’, and his breathing slowed.
The Minister opened his mouth and a croaking, elderly voice tumbled out, “I am here, as I am sure you know, about Albus Dumbledore’s will, concerning what he left you.” Then he raised an eyebrow, “Or, this is a surprise.”
“He left us all something?” Ron asked, blinking slowly.
Harry narrowed his eyes, “Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why are you only speaking to us now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione scoffed, beating the Minister, “They wanted to examine what he left us. You had no right!”
The Minister smiled, crooked, yellowing teeth were exposed, “I had every right! As the Minister, I have the power to confiscate contents of a will as stated in the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation.”
“The Ministry,” Hermione scathed, “Is supposed to have evidence of a deceased’s possessions being illegal before confiscation. Do you really believe Dumbledore would try to give us a cursed object?”
“I do not claim to know the intentions of a dead man,” The Minister said, dismissively.
“Why are you giving us our things now?” Harry redirected.
“The thirty-one days are up,” Hermione spoke up again, “According to the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation ,” she mocked his earlier tone, “they can’t keep the objects any longer than that unless they have powerful evidence to show that the items are dangerous.”
Lily smiled listening to Hermione speak. She could see why she was one of Harry’s closest friends; the girl was full of righteous anger and the wits to do something valuable with her ire.
Scrimgeour paused, before turning to Ron as if Hermione had never spoken, “Were you close with your Headmaster, Ronald?”
“Me?” Ron’s nose scrunched, “I dunno. Harry was always the one…” He trailed off as Hermione gave him a glare that clearly signified for him to stop speaking.
Lily had to elbow James again over his heavy breathing in her ear. She grabbed the back of his jumper to keep him in her vicinity as he had instinctively started to wander closer to the trio on the couch.
“Oh? Well, if you were not close with the professor, then why do you believe he would personally name you within his will? He had very few personal requests within his will.”
Ron’s mouth parted open slightly as he paused to think, very obviously confused, “Well, what I meant was… I think he liked me,” Ron nodded slightly, clearly panicking.
It was Lily’s turn to be elbowed for breathing too loudly. It was hard to hold her tongue when her mind was screaming danger on a loop.
Thankfully, Hermione chose to speak again before Lily did something impulsive like throwing off the cloak and brandishing her wand to get this man away from the children.
“Don’t be modest Ron. Dumbledore was very fond of you.”
James flinched when Scrimgeour reached into his cloak, but all he produced was a roll of parchment.
“‘The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’,” he read aloud, “Here we are, Ronald, ‘To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it,’” Scrimgeour fixed Ron with a hard stare as he reached into his pocket once more to procure a small object that looked like a small cigarette lighter. She let out a soft gasp when Ron flicked it and all the light was sucked from the room, before it suddenly returned.
Scrimgeour leaned forward in his chair, gesturing to the object, “That is a valuable object. Clearly, a unique object of Dumbledore’s own design. Ronald, I will ask again, why you? Dumbledore was a professor for a very long time, and he had thousands of students…and, yet, he recognized the three of you. Individually. Why–”
“We all came to know Dumbledore very well,” Harry cut off Scrimgeour. “We didn’t even know Dumbledore had a will, let alone who he included in it. We cannot claim to know the intentions of a dead man, sir .”
“He is so sassy,” James whispered with a small laugh.
“I wonder where that came from,” Lily flicked him in the back fondly.
Scrimgeour huffed before continuing to read the parchment, “‘To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard , in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.”
Hermione took the tattered book with delicate hands and placed it carefully on her lap, smoothing down the peeling edges of the cover.
Scrimgeour looked like he was choosing his words carefully, “Miss Granger, do you know why Dumbledore has given you this book?”
She shrugged, still looking at the book reverently, “He knew I liked reading.”
“Yes, but,” He paused in exasperation, “ this book, in particular.”
“It’s a story book isn’t it? He must’ve thought I’d enjoy the story,” she wiped her sleeve across her face harshly.
“Can you speak to your relationship with Dumbledore with any more clarity than Ronald, Miss Granger?”
“Dumbledore was very fond of me,” she spoke, finally looking up from the book in her lap.
“Yes, yes,” the Minister grumbled, “He was very fond of all of you. Hmm, alright then. ‘To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.’”
A snitch? That was an odd present. Who knew Dumbledore was so sentimental?
“Flesh memories,” James gasped.
“What?” Lily asked, trying to remember the importance of the snitch beyond the fact that it won the game.
“The snitch carries an enchantment that remembers the flesh of the first human that lays its hand upon it. In case there’s a dispute on which seeker caught it first.”
“So, Dumbledore hid something in it?” Lily whispered back. Of course he would. Dumbledore was always fifteen steps ahead of everyone else. He thought of the world like a game of Wizard’s Chess–always the end of the road, never the move right in front of your face.
“The Minister must think so,” James said.
Judging by the look on Harry and Ron’s faces, they knew this rule, too. Harry swallowed heavily, keeping his hands in his lap.
Scrimgeour looked like he finally found his opening, a smile creeped onto his face, his yellow teeth showing, “Take it.”
He held the snitch out towards Harry, eagerly.
Harry slowly reached his hand out, and Lily waited with baited breath as the snitch fell between Scrimgeour’s fingers into Harry’s hand.
And…
Nothing.
Nothing happened.
“That was dramatic,” Harry said, voice taut, as Hermione and Ron laughed.
The Minister slouched buck, his face twisting.
“Is that all then?” Hermione asked, tentatively.
“Mmm, not quite,” he grunted. His gaze turned back to Harry, “He also left Mr. Potter the Sword of Godric Gryffindor.”
“What,” Lily hissed to James, who shrugged, equally as lost.
What was Dumbledore playing at? The Sword of Gryffindor ?
“So…where is it?” Harry asked.
“That sword was not Dumbledore’s to give away. It is an important historical artifact–”
“It belongs to Harry!” Hermione stated, venom in her tone, “He was the one who found it. The sword chose him!”
“The sword may present itself to any Gryffindor, if he is so worthy. That does not mean that Mr. Potter has any particular claim over it, regardless of Dumbledore’s wishes.”
“That’s bollocks!” Ron said, huffing. “Harry’s got more right to it than anyone else. You don’t see me and Hermione pulling it out of the hat.”
“That is a theory to test another day, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter, why do you–”
“Think that Dumbledore wanted me to have the sword?” Harry seethed. “It is my birthday. Perhaps he thought it would look nice on my wall.”
“This is not a joking matter, Potter!”
“Really?” Harry laughed, “Because the Ministry sure is acting like a bunch of fools. Well you have the sword now. If Dumbeldore really had nefarious goals for the sword, why don’t you go stick it in Voldemort? That is, if you even care about stopping him. Since the Ministry is so busy stripping Deluminators and trying to pry open a snitch, you’d think there’s nothing else going on,” Harry stood up, “In case you haven’t noticed, Minister, there’s a war going on. What about the Azkaban breakout? Or the Muggle Studies teacher who went missing?”
“How dare you suggest I don’t care,” Scrimgeour stood up, limping towards Harry, and jabbing him in the chest with his wand, “It would do you well to remember Potter that I’m not Dumbledore. You may wear that scar like a crown, but you are just a boy. It’s time you learned some respect!”
“It’s time you earned it!”
The door swung open, the Weasleys out of breath.
Arthur spoke, out of breath, “We- thought, we- we heard raised voices.”
Scrimgeour leaned on his cane, taking a step back, “It was nothing. Thank you for your audience, children.”
He glared at each of them stonily, as he limped past the Weasley patriarch through the door and out to the garden.
“He’s gone,” Mrs. Weasley said, coming back into the house, “What did he want? Wait, don’t say anything yet. We should get your parents, Harry.”
Lily grabbed the back of James’s jumper once again and they began quickly walking backwards to the stairs, trying to slip around everyone without getting caught. Lily turned around when they got to the stairs and James held onto the back of her shirt as they carefully made their way back up to Bill’s room.
“The Sword of Gryffindor,” James hissed as he pulled the cloak off of them, shoving it under Bill’s bed.
“I know,” Lily moaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, “What is that man scheming now?”
“He must’ve known the Ministry would read his will,” James ran his hand through his hair.
A knock sounded through the room.
“Come in!” Lily called, trying to sound normal, but sounding more like a strangled cat.
Harry poked his head around the door with a shy smile, his earlier temper completely erased from his face, “The Minister’s gone.”
“Oh, good,” James said, grinning wide and throwing on the Potter charm, slinging an arm around Harry, “Let’s go eat, then. I’m starving.”
Harry turned back, still smiling, “Coming, Mum?”
She forced a smile on her face, “Of course, love.”
Dinner was a quiet affair. Lily tried her best to make her face correspond with the notion that this was actually the first time she was hearing about the details of the Minister’s visit as the three objects were passed carefully around the table.
Fred and George also went on an exasperated tirade, claiming that it was ‘rubbish’ that the Minister wouldn’t give Harry the sword.
Arthur looked tired, simply nodding until his boys were finishing ranting, instead of his usual bit of trying to calm his children’s outrage.
Despite the interruption, for all intents and purposes, it was a quaint evening. Lily tried not to laugh when Harry snuck up the stairs behind Ron and Hermione, probably going to collude over their newly acquired objects.
As the sky turned dark, Lily found herself in the living room alone with her son. Harry was sitting on the armchair, his legs draped over the arm with his feet dangling near the fire. His long, wooly Gryffindor socks were shoved down, bunched around the ankle. He looked the comfiest she’d ever seen him.
The large tome from Dumbledore was still across his lap, captivating his attention, but she tried not to let it bother her. Today had been a good day, no need for her temper to ruin the peaceful camaraderie she had found sitting in silence with Harry. The fire crackled softly, and the hum of nighttime careened distantly.
There was something they needed to discuss, though.
“Harry?” Lily said, quietly, after a bit, setting her teacup on the table.
“Hmm?” He hummed quietly, still playing with the snitch in his right hand as he read.
“You are the most important thing to me. I know I haven’t done the best job lately, but I promise, you come before everything.”
“Even Dad?” Harry joked, looking up.
“Even Dad,” Lily said seriously.
“What’s this about?” Harry asked, lowering his giant book to his lap.
“I know that you’re older, but I’m still not quite used to you being able to make all your own decisions. I can’t turn off that part of my brain that is used to assuming what you need. But, assuming what you need isn’t helping you,” Lily said, turning to face him.
“Okay,” Harry said, smoothing down the edges of his book cover.
“Harry, would it be better if Dudley were gone?”
Harry balked, “I don’t want him dead.”
“No, of course not. I mean, would it be better for you if Dudley went somewhere else?” Lily asked.
Harry paused, “I don’t want him to be alone.”
“He wouldn’t be,” Lily reassured, “Someone will take care of him. Before he died, Mad-Eye found one of your uncle’s cousins in Wales. Dudley could go be with his family, and the Order will put them in a warded safehouse.”
“He wouldn’t have to be here anymore, though?” Harry asked. She could tell he was playing for casual, but she could hear the hope in his voice.
“Nope,” Lily said, “As soon as Bill and Fleur’s wedding is over he’ll leave.”
Harry bit his cheek, considering for a moment, “He’ll be safe?”
“As much as he can be,” She said.
Harry nodded then, “Yeah, that would be brilliant.”
He gave her a smile, and it reminded her of that almost carefree smile he had on his face earlier when he was opening presents. Seeing that smile on his face now, Lily knew she was making the right decision.