Chapter Text
Babies, Harry had decided, were terrifyingly fragile. Teddy couldn’t support his own head. Currently, Harry was doing it for him, and therefore afraid to move lest he cause his godson some dreadful injury.
“See? It’s not so hard.”
He glanced up at Tonks. Her hair remained brown and unchanging, her eyes were puffy and red, and for some reason in the midst of her grief she had decided that Harry absolutely must learn how to hold Teddy – immediately.
“As long as I don’t move,” he muttered.
Tonks said, “It’s scariest the first time,” and Harry wondered how many times it took to be willing to move.
He was determined to be a good godfather, though, so he’d get better. Remus and Tonks had trusted him with the honor and he wasn’t going to let them, or Teddy, down. Teddy wasn’t even a month old and he’d lost his father. Harry couldn’t make up for that and he wouldn’t try. He was going to be the best godfather he possibly could.
“He likes you,” said Tonks.
Harry, sorely lacking in baby-related vocabulary, could only reply, “He’s brilliant.”
Tonks smiled proudly as Teddy snuffled and closed his eyes. “How are you?” she asked.
“You’re asking me?” She was just widowed with a tiny infant - shouldn’t Harry be asking her?
“I’m tired of people asking me,” Tonks said. “I’m especially tired of Mum waiting for me to admit that she was right to stun me to keep me from joining the battle.”
Harry frowned. He had to agree with Mrs. Tonks on that point. Bellatrix Lestrange had particularly wanted to kill Tonks, after all, and if Harry had been holding his orphaned godson now… no, he thought Mrs. Tonks had had the right idea.
“Tell me something. Something else I can think about, for a few minutes,” finished Tonks pleadingly.
He could do that, and was sure to do a better job of it than providing emotional comfort anyway. It wasn’t as though I’m really sorry Remus is dead, I’d hoped to get to know him better after the war was likely to make her feel better. “I offered to free Kreacher last night. I told him I’d pay him if he wanted to stick around.”
“How’d that go over?”
“He told me he knows Dobby put strange notions in my head, so he would pretend I never insulted him so badly. This time.”
Harry never expected to be taken up on the offer. Sirius had said the shock of being freed would kill the old elf, for one thing. Still, it seemed right to give Kreacher the choice, and Harry had made sure to do it when Hermione was there to witness Kreacher’s appalled response, because now she had to accept that giving house-elves the right to self-determination the way she wanted included letting Kreacher decide he was not the slightest bit interested in freedom.
Tonks raised her eyebrows in surprise. “He actually likes you now?”
“Yeah. He loved Regulus Black, and I gave him something of Regulus’s for himself last summer. After that his cooking improved dramatically.”
“That’s a nice change,” said Tonks. “His cooking was lousy before.”
“I also suspect he’s bragging to other elves that he serves the defeater of Voldemort.”
She winced. Harry was going to have to start all over again with getting people to say the name. Either that or get people to use Tom Riddle instead. He hadn’t decided yet.
“You’re being kind to him, even after what he did.”
Harry swallowed hard. He didn’t like thinking about what might have been different if Sirius hadn’t hated Kreacher along with everything else related to his family. “Dumbledore told me Kreacher was what he was made to be by wizards. I’m trying to do better.”
“I’d say you’re succeeding,” said Tonks, and she sounded proud of him.
Before Harry could reply, Mr. Weasley’s – Arthur’s, he was supposed to be calling them Arthur and Molly now – weasel Patronus dropped into the room and announced, “Harry, you’re needed at Hogwarts.”
Harry sighed and looked at Teddy’s carefully positioned little body. “How do I give him back?”
He walked into the Great Hall wondering crossly when people would let him rest. This was the third day without Voldemort and Harry had not enjoyed one entire day for himself yet – or even a half day, come to think of it. The longest stretches he’d been left alone were when he slept at night.
“I’m sorry to cut your visit short,” said Mr. – Arthur, pulling Harry aside before anyone else waylaid him. “I thought we would have more time, so I’d planned to discuss this tonight, but it’s been decided.”
Of course it had. As usual, something was decided for Harry without his opinion being so much as asked.
Arthur looked at him seriously. “When a war spans two or more generations, it’s formally ended with peace offerings from the losing side. We haven’t had a generational war in so long I half expected the practice would’ve been abandoned. It turns out that is not the case. You, as the victor, will accept the offerings.”
“It wasn’t only me who won the war,” protested Harry.
“He fell at your hand, Harry. By custom, you are the victor.”
“Savior and symbol,” he said.
“Yes,” said Arthur, nodding wearily. “The offerings will be made tonight. You should ask Kreacher to procure you suitable robes.”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to.” Kreacher had been proud to tell Harry that he’d wiped Yaxley’s memory of Grimmauld Place and protected Master’s house. Hopefully he could find some robes there which would serve for the occasion.
“I’m not an expert on this custom, and in any case it would be inappropriate for me to advise you in any detail.”
“Why?” asked Harry. He knew Arthur would be honest with him, which was the most important thing when it came to advice.
“Because you’re expected to distribute the offerings amongst your allies, and my family stands among them,” Arthur replied. “I suggest you ask Professor McGonagall for a recommendation as to who might counsel you, as I ought not even point you to an individual. I can, however, say this much: you must accept all of the offerings, Harry. It is imperative. To refuse an offering is to refuse peace.”
“I understand,” said Harry.
“Good. You’ve little time, so you ought to begin your preparations.”
Kreacher promised to bring back fine robes and set off eagerly to find them. Professor McGonagall told Harry that Professor Vector would not lead him astray, so he found Vector on the far end of the Great Hall, casting spells at the bare stone ceiling and recording results on a piece of parchment hovering in front of her.
“Professor Vector?”
She turned to him and smiled politely with recognition. “Mr. Potter.”
Apparently, defeating a dark lord got you addressed as ‘Mister’ overnight.
“I’ve got to accept peace offerings tonight, and Arthur Weasley said he can’t advise me. Professor McGonagall recommended I ask you. Will you be my advisor?”
Harry didn’t know Vector, other than that she was considered strict and Hermione liked her. He trusted that Professor McGonagall wouldn’t want him to mess up the peace offerings and had therefore sent him to the best person for the job.
Vector rolled up her parchment and stuck it in her pocket. “That’s wise of Arthur Weasley. I will be honored to advise you. Come, let us speak in private. These matters should not be discussed in the open.” With a critical gaze at his Muggle clothes, she added, “You’ll need formal robes.”
“Kreacher is taking care of that. My elf,” he added when she looked confused.
“Very good. You and I can speak in my office. It’s undamaged, I’m pleased to say.”
They hadn’t even gotten out of the Great Hall when Bill stopped them. “Professor,” he said with a slight nod. “I beg your leave to offer Harry a suggestion which is of no personal benefit to me or my family, openly, where you can provide him further counsel.”
Bill never spoke so formally.
“If Mr. Potter wishes,” she said.
“Yes,” said Harry, because he trusted Bill.
“You’ll have no better opportunity to make amends to the goblins,” said Bill.
Vector titled her head until the tip of her pointy red hat touched the corridor wall. “He is correct, Mr. Potter. If you allow the goblins to stand among the victors and share in the peace offerings… perhaps bestow something goblin-made upon them…”
Bill almost shook his head, only to stop himself. “They will be most pleased to walk away with something goblin-made as well as something which they cannot claim is simply being returned to them as the rightful owners.”
“I have studied wizarding customs extensively,” said Vector. “I’m far less familiar with goblin customs, so if you are inclined to trust him, Mr. Potter, I cannot say what goblins might prefer to receive. It is not commonly done, to include goblins as equals. The mere fact that you do so will, I expect, be more beneficial for human-goblin relations than anything in several decades.”
“So, all I have to do is share a part of the peace offering with them, and they’ll not only forgive me, Ron, and Hermione for breaking into Gringotts, the entire relationship between humans and goblins will improve?” This sounded too good to be true.
“They’ll most likely blame the Thicknesse regime for your break-in,” said Bill. “It allows them to forgive you and also remind wizards that thieves did not succeed in escaping when they were left to their own methods, without Ministry oversight.”
Vector, who had the look of a woman thinking quickly, nodded. “There are those who would disagree on principle. Anyone with half a mind for pragmatism, however, will recognize that the last thing we need right now is another goblin rebellion. I suppose you could inquire with Minster Shacklebolt for his opinion.”
“How do we invite them?” asked Harry.
“I will serve as your messenger, if you request,” said Bill. Harry had a feeling he was going to need to speak formally for the peace offerings, if Bill needed to just to talk about the peace offerings. “If you want the Minister’s opinion, you’ll need to speak with him before I go to the goblins.”
“I’ll let you know after I talk to him.”
When Bill headed for the door and Professor Vector resumed leading the way to her office, she told Harry, “I can send one of the elves with a message to the Minister. I hope you had no plans for the rest of the afternoon. This will take some time.”
“I was visiting my godson,” Harry said, trying his best not to sound sullen.
“You’ve a godson?”
Harry replied proudly, “Teddy Lupin. Remus and Tonks Lupin’s son.”
“Congratulations,” said Vector, “and I am sorry, for his loss and yours.”
So was Harry. He really had hoped that after the war he could get to know Remus properly, and of course he’d wanted Teddy to grow up with his father. Someday, he would tell Teddy what Remus had told him when summoned with the Resurrection Stone, that he’d died trying to make a happier world for Teddy to live in. It’d require a white lie about when exactly Remus had mentioned that, to omit mention of the Resurrection Stone, but Teddy deserved to know when he was old enough to understand.
Professor Vector’s office had a large, enchanted painting of a lake on one wall, with painted fairies fluttering around in the frame and the water reflecting the sunlight in sparkles, which hung above a cabinet designed to hold scrolls of parchment. Bookcases filled the entire wall behind her desk, while the wall opposite the painting was covered in charts Harry couldn’t begin to decipher.
Vector told him to take a seat and got right into it. “How much do you know about the peace offerings?”
“Arthur said they’re used to end a war which goes on more than one generation.”
“Yes. An old custom intended to discourage combatants from allowing a war to go on so long, which has worked reasonably well. One should not wage war on a second generation unless entirely confident or desperate. Or, I think, in the case of many of your supporters, genuinely convinced that they were on the morally right side, which of course they were.”
“‘They,’” Harry repeated critically.
She met his eyes steadily, without apology. “I did not include myself because I chose to remain outwardly neutral until the final battle in order to protect the students to the best of my ability. I am not a gifted witch in a fight, Potter, and that is no secret. I am also a pure-blood from a family of no great note, with a history of political neutrality. I was therefore not seen as a serious threat and could protect students from the worst detentions, teach basic first aid spells, and the like. My loyalties were never with those who tortured and killed, but I kept quiet to do the most good I could manage. This means I can reasonably be excluded as an ally, or at most counted as the least of them, and thus may advise you without being accused of seeking personal gain.”
Helping in her own way was fine by Harry. From what he’d heard, first aid spells had been important at Hogwarts this year. He should learn some himself, when he had the time. At the moment he had a peace offering ceremony he needed to get right.
“So if we’d lost…”
“Your allies would be expected to make offerings, and your belongings would have been handed to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, yes.”
Harry did not want to think of his precious Cloak being handed over to Voldemort, nor of Kreacher’s fate. He went on, “Arthur said I’ve got to accept everything. Refusing an offering is refusing peace.”
“Yes,” said Vector. “Unless you want to demand a more valuable offering, which I don’t recommend for reasons I’m happy to explain in detail if you like.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Harry, already sure he had more pressing concerns. “And I’m supposed to share with my allies. That’s all I know.”
She nodded. “That is why Arthur Weasley would not advise you. You will of course include members of his family in your most important allies, and he wants no appearance of inappropriate influence for his family’s gain. Yes, Potter. You will accept the offerings, you will keep what you wish, and the rest you will either bestow upon your allies or entrust for the public good.”
Vector fetched parchment, quill, and ink, setting some in front of herself and some in front of Harry. She wrote a brief note and sent it off with a house-elf for Shacklebolt, then looked at Harry with piercing brown eyes. “The final decisions are yours. My role is to ensure you have the information necessary, not to choose for you, so pay close attention.
“There are three offerings of particular importance: the first, second, and final. The first offering is the most personal. Likely it will be quite valuable as well, but personal significance is primary. It will have some meaningful connection to you, and you must accept and retain it. That is what you will say: ‘I accept and retain this offering.’” Harry nodded his understanding. It seemed simple enough. “The final offering is the most valuable, except perhaps the first, which is excluded from consideration of relative value. That you must also accept and retain. It does not matter if you want those two or not. You must retain them for yourself, as a formal end to hostilities.”
She seemed to be waiting for a response, so Harry said, “‘I accept and retain this offering’ for the first and last, no matter what.”
“Yes. The second offering is the most symbolic. It will be the second-most valuable and easily divisible by three – most often three large chests – and you are to distribute it among your three key living allies. You will find many offerings made in threes and sevens, or nine - three sets of three. These can be given as one or divided within reason.”
“Within reason?” That struck Harry as unhelpfully vague.
“You cannot divide a chest or split a set. You can give it to a married couple, but you cannot, for example, give a chest of coins to be shared by Padma and Parvati Patil. Your key living allies, Potter.”
Harry’s head had already started to swim. “Ron and Hermione.”
It had always been the two of them, from first year on. That was never in question. He couldn’t think of anyone else who came close – alive, anyway, because obviously Dumbledore… but who else?
“If you want to be clear that they have no equal, or least no equal who survives,” said Vector, not sounding surprised in the least, “you have the option to entrust the third share for the public good. For example, you might give it to Professor McGonagall for the rebuilding of Hogwarts, or to the director of St. Mungo’s. Those are merely two of the most obvious options. I’m happy to discuss others.”
Harry didn’t know the first thing about how much it cost to repair a magic castle. There was an awful lot of damage, and he’d overheard something about hiring a whole team of curse-breakers, so he would be well pleased to direct some gold from Death Eaters’ vaults to the cause.
“The giving and accepting of peace offerings is symbolic,” explained Vector. “Your foes – or surviving family members of your deceased foes, in some cases - will offer you something of value in request that you seek no further retribution against them. It is their complete surrender and their plea to end the violence. By accepting the offering, you agree to their request and pledge no vengeance for acts committed prior to the presentation of the offering. Your allies, in accepting offerings you bestow upon them, agree to the same terms.”
“Hang on,” said Harry, alarmed, “does that mean the Death Eaters all walk free?”
She seemed to appreciate the question. “No. The Ministry may still charge them with crimes and imprison them normally. It means that, for example, while Yaxley will likely and deservedly end up in Azkaban for his crimes, his young daughter would not be in fear for her life or safety in retribution for her father’s part in the war.”
That was all right then. Harry was tired of fighting. He didn’t want children fighting the same war in the future, not least when it looked as though he might live long enough to have children of his own someday.
“It is crucial that you recognize your allies, not necessarily your friends. Of course the two categories often overlap, however, you must remember the distinction lest you cause offense. Furthermore, if you are recognizing the goblins you can’t slight the centaurs…”
Harry grabbed a quill, dipped it in ink, and started taking notes.
“Your elf knows his formal robes,” said Professor Vector approvingly.
Kreacher had put Harry in stiff black dress robes with silver trim and silver embroidered triangles running down the sleeves, which had, to Harry’s complete lack of surprise, belonged to Regulus Black. The shiny black formal boots had belonged to Sirius. Harry wasn’t sure if that was a concession from Kreacher or a matter of sharing Sirius’s shoe size, and decided he didn’t care because he liked it either way.
Of his own initiative, Kreacher also dug up dress robes for Ron and Hermione, insisting that “Master’s most valued allies must have proper clothes for the occasion.” Harry doubted that all three robes would have fit perfectly before Kreacher set to work on them.
Hermione wore a complicated dark brown garment halfway between a dress and a robe. Ron, in crisp navy robes, couldn’t stop looking at her, which kept making her blush.
“Thank you, Kreacher,” said Harry. “You’ve been a great help.”
Kreacher puffed out his chest proudly. He still had the fake locket around his neck.
“Thank you,” said Hermione. “It was very kind of you to think of us, Kreacher.”
“Yeah, thanks,” said Ron sincerely. “You know what you’re doing here. I look good in navy, don’t I?”
“Yes,” said Hermione. Now it was Ron’s turn to blush.
Harry left them to their loaded glances and checked his list again, all the people he wanted to recognize as allies broken into groups from most important to those he could reasonably omit if he had to. Professor Vector had enchanted the parchment so that once he spoke a name, the ink would fade to grey. He had to use full first names, no nicknames, except when entrusting for the public good, in which case he had to use a title. When in doubt, entrust to the public good. Don’t match the person offering to the ally receiving. Bestow in honor of the dead to the closest magical relative. When splitting an offering, always give to the living first.
The goblins needed something goblin-made and something which wasn’t; Professor Vector said centaurs liked wine, so any expensive wine was best for them, but rare plants would also do; and the Hogwarts house-elves wanted nothing to do with any offerings for themselves, though they had when pressed asked that Harry award any house-elves offered to good, kind masters who would give them work and not free them. (They were clearly worried about Hermione, even if they were unwilling to say so by name.) They’d enthusiastically agreed with Professor Vector’s suggestion that Hogwarts or St. Mungo’s would be a fine place for any house-elf given, and one elf had shyly asked if the Hogwarts elves might have the honor of carrying the offerings to Harry.
“Everyone knows what they’re agreeing to?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Hermione. “Professors Slughorn and Sprout explained it to the entire DA. The rest of the Hogwarts staff already knew, of course, and Professor McGonagall said everyone in the Order did as well. No one requested to be left out in order to forgo the agreement.”
According to Vector, that was critical. No one should think they were simply getting treasure because they’d fought on the winning side – it was an agreement that the war was over, and breaking the pact would have devastating social consequences. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have to shun anyone who did, and the rest of Harry’s allies would be heavily encouraged to as well.
“I’m naming you first, Hermione,” he said. That would give her first choice of the split offering, and Vector said that allowing the Muggle-born to choose first over the pure-blood would send a good message. “Apparently it’s a nice touch to show how stupid I think blood supremacy is.”
“Can’t pass up that opportunity,” said Ron agreeably, to Harry’s relief.
The door to the antechamber opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt swept in, regal in dark orange robes. “We’re ready for you,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” said Harry. Five more minutes was not going to make a difference at this point.
“Wait one full minute after I leave,” said Shacklebolt.
Harry looked at his watch and waited for sixty seconds to pass. “Let’s go formally end a war,” he said.
During his time at Shell Cottage Harry had presented as a latent alpha. Professor Vector said to keep the temper firmly in check and the commanding presence on full display, so Harry sternly reminded himself that he must not lose his temper.
He strode into the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione on either side of him, all walking abreast. According to Professor Vector, this indicated that the two of them were more than his key allies, they were so indispensable as to be his coequals in victory. Considering how many times he’d have died without them, considering everything they’d given up and endured and done, Harry thought it only right.
Witches and wizards in robes of every color filled the Great Hall entirely, including balconies which had been added for the occasion. This was a public event the likes of which hadn’t been seen in centuries, apparently, and Harry desperately hoped he didn’t mess it up.
He spotted three stern goblins and, farther away, three centaurs. Bill had told him that the goblins sent the Deputy Director of Gringotts, as they were unwilling to risk that the Director himself would walk away slighted, yet open enough to send the deputy. It was as good as could be expected, according to Bill.
Every eye in the Great Hall watched him, Ron, and Hermione as they walked from the antechamber to stand in front of the staff table, directly in the middle, where Dumbledore always stood to make his speeches. Several cameras went off. Once they reached their designated places, Chief Warlock Bones began a speech.
“We gather tonight to formally end a generational conflict which has claimed far too many lives,” he said somberly. “We shall not allow it to claim another. No more blood shall be spilled after tonight.”
It went on for a few minutes. Harry spent the time mentally reviewing all the most important things he’d learned from Professor Vector. He had a few politically and diplomatically sensitive matters and no experience dealing with them, after all.
“We begin,” said Bones.
Harry stepped forward. Just to the right stood a table on which he was to put his personal offerings, and he secured his list to it with a Sticking Charm so he didn’t have to do something embarrassing like Summon it later if it rolled off the table and down the hall. Meanwhile, the door opened and a large wizard with a deep voice announced the first person to make an offering.
“Draco Malfoy.”
Every inch the picture of defeat, Malfoy kept his eyes down as he walked into the Great Hall holding parchment. This was a walk of surrender, Vector had explained, and was supposed to be humiliating – which Harry thought richly deserved, considering what Malfoy had done. He’d nearly killed Ron and Katie Bell, plus put Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius Curse, so a shameful walk was the least he ought to endure.
When he reached Harry, he knelt and held out rolls of parchment without meeting Harry’s eyes, his own marked by dark circles underneath. “I offer the properties of the Black Family,” he said, “which would have been bequeathed to Sirius Black had my family and our allies not allowed an innocent man to remain in Azkaban.”
They had known. They had known all along that Sirius was innocent, and they let him rot in Azkaban, maybe even so that Narcissa Malfoy would inherit the properties. Harry felt his wand smoke in his pocket and reminded himself that he could not afford to lose his temper. His personal feelings didn’t matter right now. What mattered was ending the war.
He took the parchment. “I accept and retain this offering.”
Malfoy nodded, stood, and turned, eyes ahead now that his offering had been accepted. Harry put the parchment down and took a few deep breaths. He could feel Ron and Hermione behind him and drew strength from their presence. There were other supportive faces in the crowd: all the Weasleys except Ginny right up front, next to Tonks and Professor McGonagall, and there on the other side, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Dumbledore’s Army.
“Rodolphus Lestrange.”
He looked significantly angrier than Malfoy, in stark contrast to the three house-elves scurrying happily ahead of him levitating large chests. The second offering was just what Vector had predicted, then, if not offered by Lucius Malfoy as she’d expected.
Lestrange knelt, eyes down. “I offer three chests, each with ten thousand galleons and a grand parure of the finest jewels.”
The house-elves opened the chests from Harry’s left to right. Atop each pile of galleons was a selection of jewelry so ornate it would not have looked out of place on the queen at a state banquet, with sizable rubies, sapphires, and emeralds glittering in the ample candlelight, set among diamonds by the dozen. Rodolphus Lestrange had to make an offering on his own behalf and his wife’s, and considering Bellatrix’s rank and atrocities, Vector said his offering would be significant. She’d expected it to be the final, most valuable one, considering that Voldemort didn’t own much personally.
“I accept this offering,” said Harry. “I bestow one chest on Hermione Granger and one chest on Ronald Weasley. I entrust the third chest to Acting Headmistress McGonagall for the rebuilding of Hogwarts.”
Hermione stepped forward and summoned the middle chest towards herself, the one with a set of diamond and ruby jewelry complete with tiara, and Harry didn’t know a lot about jewelry, but that set had to be worth a great many galleons. Ron then chose the chest on the right, with its bright and gleaming sapphires on top. The final chest McGonagall walked forward and summoned. Hopefully all those emeralds could be sold to help pay for repairs to the castle.
Rabastan Lestrange followed his brother, preceded by more cheerful elves levitating seven chests. Harry didn’t recognize all of the gemstones in these, and while he didn’t see any tiaras, no one would call these plain sets of jewelry.
“I offer seven chests, each with three thousand galleons and a parure of fine jewelry.”
Vector had said not to match the person offering to the person receiving, but Harry thought Neville deserved this, and anyway, no one could argue Neville’s right to receive one of the earlier offerings as befitted an especially valued ally.
“I accept this offering,” Harry said to Lestrange, who appeared to be working hard not to visibly scowl while the elves spun the chests to face the crowd. “I bestow it as follows: one chest each on Neville Longbottom, Ginevra Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Aberforth Dumbledore in honor of Albus Dumbledore, Edward Lupin in honor of Remus Lupin, and Decimus Prince in honor of Severus Snape.”
No one was surprised by Snape’s inclusion thanks to Shacklebolt’s having the Daily Prophet print the letter Dumbledore had left with the house-elves exonerating the spy. Harry, keeping in mind that he was supposed to be recognizing allies regardless of how well he liked them personally, had asked Professor Vector if Snape had any relatives. The answer turned out to be one older cousin on his mother’s side.
One by one they stepped forward to claim their chests. Neville’s face was set grimly, Ginny’s eyes flashed fiercely, Tonks accepted Remus’s with Teddy strapped to her chest, and Snape’s cousin looked thunderstruck.
Harry would deal with his feelings later. Right now he had to be the savior and symbol, had to make sure the war was officially over, and later… later he would ask Kreacher for hot chocolate and curl up in Gryffindor Tower.
He said the name Weasley a lot with the next offerings. Molly, as the one who’d killed Bellatrix, came first. Harry hoped she liked emeralds. She had several of them in her new jewelry.
“I accept this offering,” Harry said of Thorfinn Rowle’s platinum, diamond, and onyx pocket watch, voice thick as he strained to keep it even, “and I bestow it on Arthur and Molly Weasley, in honor of Frederick Weasley.”
He had to force his feelings down very hard then, as Arthur and Molly stepped forward, Molly with tears running down her cheeks silently and Arthur with glittering eyes.
It was a relief, after that, to see that the next people on his list were all alive. They were getting galleon-filled chests which had dwarf silver for all the metal components. Presumably those cost more than your average wooden chest.
“I accept this offering and bestow it, one chest on Nymphadora Lupin” – he would apologize later that he’d been instructed to use her full name – “one chest on Kingsley Shacklebolt, and one chest on Elspeth Moody in memory of Alastor Moody.”
With his enchanted list, it wasn’t hard to keep track of who he’d already recognized. He skipped ahead on his list when presented with a pair of Abraxans. There was only one person who could possibly get those. “I accept this offering and bestow it on Rubeus Hagrid.”
Hagrid was delighted. Abraxans were dangerous enough when poorly handled to interest him, and Harry could be sure the massive winged horses would be in good hands.
Three sets of necklaces with matching bracelets came next. Harry hoped for more items like that and less living creatures for which he had to find appropriate homes. “I accept this offering and bestow it, one set on Lavender Brown, one on Parvati Patil, one on Padma Patil.”
Lavender had to be floated over in a chair and couldn’t summon her own jewelry because she’d not been cleared to perform magic yet, but she was there, and Harry was incredibly glad he wasn’t giving the jewelry to her parents in her memory instead.
When Doholov bowed his head and said, “I offer three antique jeweled daggers, two made by Swiss dwarves and one goblin-crafted,” Harry noted the keen, covetous expression on Deputy Director Gornock’s craggily face and decided this was a good opportunity.
“I accept this offering and bestow it on Deputy Director Gornock, as envoy for his people.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd. Bill gave Harry a brief, reassuring nod as the goblin walked forward flanked by two of his men. Gornock summoned the sheathed daggers with a flick of his wrists and a glance at Harry which hopefully meant he was happy enough with what he’d been given.
Next came three chests with a thousand galleons each, and the chests themselves were beautifully carved antiques.
“I accept this offering and bestow it, one chest on Dean Thomas, one chest on Seamus Finnigan, one chest on Ernest Macmillan.”
And so on it went through several more offerings which Harry divided between the members of Dumbledore’s Army who had fought, the Order of the Phoenix (barring Mundungus Fletcher, who was a cowardly thief and had already stolen plenty of treasure), and the Hogwarts staff.
He was in luck: Goyle senior offered nine bottles of wine. Harry hoped they were sufficiently desirable wines and said, “I accept this offering and bestow it on Firenze, as envoy for his herd.”
There were less surprised murmurs this time.
When some extremely rare plants were offered, as much as Neville would have loved them, Harry gave them to Professor Sprout. She liked Neville, so she’d probably give him cuttings.
Harry kept no further offerings for himself personally. He already had a house, gold, and now multiple properties, not to mention he was supposed to retain the most valuable offering of all at the end, so he didn’t see the need for more. He did, however, want to make a statement. When he was presented by Parkinson’s father with a chest containing galleons and three enchanted objects, he knew it was the right offering. Among the objects was a dagger enchanted to always strike true, and for some reason that seemed the right offering for this. It was a bit like a knife which would open any lock.
“I accept this offering and retain it in honor of Sirius Black.”
He wasn’t allowed to bestow any offerings for others who died in the first war. It was one of the many rules around peace offerings which made no sense. He was, however, allowed to bestow in Sirius’s honor, and as Sirius’s godson and heir Harry received the treasure. Honestly, he cared far less about the gold and more that Sirius’s name was included among those who had fought for what was right.
A few offerings later, one of which included a pregnant and plainly terrified house-elf who Harry quickly entrusted to McGonagall for Hogwarts and watched swept away by Hogwarts house-elves, Narcissa Malfoy was announced.
This was one of the sensitive cases. Vector had told Harry that a gesture of magnanimity from him would be taken as a first step forward, and while there would be a few people who objected on principle to any such concession, wiser minds would agree that it was best. Harry had given it due consideration, decided Dumbledore would’ve suggested that he make that gesture towards a better future, and worked out a plan with Vector’s help.
Mrs. Malfoy knelt as the house-elves opened three boxes. Vector had predicted her offering would be smaller, as her husband would make the main offering for his family. This was symbolic of the Malfoy family’s important role in the war.
“I offer three demi-parures of goblin-wrought jewelry,” she said.
As best Harry could guess, a demi-parure was a set of matching jewelry with less pieces than the regular parures. At this rate, Hogwarts and St. Mungo’s were going to need to hold an auction to sell off their treasures. “I accept this offering. I entrust one demi-parure to Acting Headmistress McGonagall for Hogwarts and one to Director Ardley for St. Mungo’s.” Harry summoned the last one to himself and held it out, grateful that the Summoning Charm was one of the few spells he’d mastered nonverbally. “I return the third to Narcissa Malfoy, in recognition that she lied to Voldemort that he had succeeded in killing me.”
She rose, curtseyed to him, and accepted the box while meeting his eyes for the briefest moment, her gratitude evident.
They were building the foundation of the future that night, Vector had said. Harry hoped that allowing Mrs. Malfoy to walk out of the Great Hall with some of her dignity would prevent more funerals in that future. He was glad to see only a few real glares of disapproval in the crowd, and a distinct look of pride on Professor McGonagall’s face.
Two offerings later, Umbridge came forward. Oh, Harry was going to enjoy this one.
She knelt as the elves opened a single large chest, simpering and hateful, and said, “I offer seven thousand galleons and a diamond-studded pocket watch.”
Harry wished she could look up. He would’ve liked to have seen the expression on her face as he said, “I accept this offering and entrust it to Interim Minister Shacklebolt, to aid the victims of the Muggle-born Registration Commission.”
That had been his own idea, and Vector agreed it met the conditions of peace offerings entrusted for public good. Harry was pleased with himself for it. He was especially pleased to direct Umbridge’s offering to the cause.
After the pink toad came a young woman introduced as Sarah Crabbe. Sister to Vincent Crabbe maybe – she had the same nose. Harry wasn’t sure, but she knelt while the elves hovered a chest and a large oval mirror next to her. The mirror had moonstones and some blue stone Harry didn’t instantly around the edges.
“I offer seven hundred galleons and an enchanted mirror set with lapis lazuli and moonstone. The room in which this mirror hangs will never succumb to fire.”
Wasn’t that a fitting object from a Crabbe? “I accept this offering,” said Harry, “and I bestow it on Dennis Creevey, in honor of Colin Creevy.”
Dennis stepped forward soberly and one of the house-elves floated the mirror into his arms. The chest followed him back to his place with the rest of the DA, where Dean Thomas grabbed it for him before it hit anyone.
Professor Vector said if Harry chose to give her anything, which she emphasized was entirely optional, it ought to be one of the least valuable items. He gave her a small, carved ivory sphinx offered by Pansy Parkinson and hoped it wasn’t worth a vast sum.
Professor Vector had also advised against one specific bestowal, and Harry opted to ignore her because he wouldn’t give this up for politics.
“I accept this offering,” he said to Goyle, “and in honor of Dobby, who saved my life at the cost of his own, I bestow it on Clara Ridgeway for her house-elf sanctuary.”
Dobby had a brother who would not accept galleons or anything else in a peace offering. It wasn’t a house-elf’s place, he said, aghast, so Harry had to get creative. Vector didn’t agree. She thought Harry risked making himself look bad for minimal gain, completely missing that it was about the principle of the thing, that Dobby had been an ally who died in the war and deserved to be recognized as such.
It was Winky who hesitantly offered the solution. The Blacks had beheaded house-elves too old to work. Some owners cruelly freed their elves instead, abandoning them to their own devices in the last weeks of their lives when they were frail and dying after a lifetime of service. Harry didn’t want to be around when Hermione learned about this. People could be monstrous.
A fairly young witch in olive green robes stepped forward and summoned the sack of seven hundred galleons. Harry thought that funding the only person caring for cast-aside house-elves in their final days in all of northern Europe was as fine a memorial to Dobby as was possible without involving socks.
If people thought he was strange for that, Harry would accept it in the knowledge that he’d done the right thing. Dobby deserved to be recognized.
He awarded something to everyone on his list and kept to the public good after that. St. Mungo’s gained a house-elf along with money (the house-elf looked relieved, which Harry took as a good sign), and both Hogwarts and the Muggle-born Registration Commission victims got more galleons as well as assorted treasures for that auction they were definitely going to need. Harry doubted that anyone who had been thrown in Azkaban by the Muggle-born Registration Commission would count an antique violin or an amethyst-encrusted bottle among their most pressing needs.
“Eleanor Pettigrew.”
The tension in the Great Hall was palpable. Everyone watched Harry more intently than before, waiting to see if this was the one offering he would reject.
If it had been Wormtail personally, Harry would have been tempted to reject the offering. He would have at least asked Professor Vector the consequences. As it was, a woman he presumed to be Wormtail’s mother walked down the aisle, either wholly broken or doing a good impression of it, and Harry was able to swallow down his anger just enough. The offering was on behalf of his parents’ betrayer, but it was to protect the Pettigrew family, and none of the rest of them had done anything worthy of the offering being rejected.
“I offer a set of quartz rune stones personally carved by the great seer Aldwyn Yarwood, and a goblin-wrought platinum crown.”
Harry had seen that same crown just a few days ago, sitting on a skull in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. Vector had predicted Pettigrew’s mother would offer both family heirloom which she would miss and a more valuable item provided by a richer family as befitted her son’s treachery.
He wanted nothing to do with either.
“I accept this offering and entrust it to Interim Minister Shacklebolt, to assist the victims of the Muggle-born Registration Commission,” he said. Eleanor Pettigrew sagged in relief.
After that, over a dozen people he didn’t recognize made small offerings: one-of-a-kind books, single pieces of jewelry, the carved horn of an Aegean sea serpent. Snatchers, probably, if Vector didn’t miss her guess that they would all want to make their surrender clear. He divided the offerings between Hogwarts, St. Mungo’s, and his Muggle-born assistance project.
Finally, the deep-voiced wizard announced, “Lucius Malfoy.”
Lucius Malfoy walked in limping slightly. This was likely the last offering, then, the most valuable one, as the Malfoys, along with the Lestranges, would be expected to provide the most valuable offerings (and fund offerings given by others who could not afford a suitable one).
To Harry’s surprise, Mr. Malfoy did not announce that he was making the final offering. Instead, after kneeling with some difficulty, he simply said, “I offer three chests, each with nine thousand galleons and a full set of sixteenth-century goblin silver between them.”
Harry knew exactly where he wanted this to go. “I accept this offering and entrust it to Interim Minister Shacklebolt, to aid the victims of the Muggle-born Registration Commission.”
Lucius Malfoy walked away with less dignity than his wife had. By now Harry was exhausted, thirsty, and ready to be done. He was also curious – considering everything which had been given already, what was going to be more valuable still? Fifty thousand galleons and three trunks of jewelry and heirlooms? He’d need to make some donations.
“The final offering will be presented by a group on behalf of their deceased master.”
Everyone else went completely silent as – Harry counted – thirteen people walked in together. You could have heard a quill drop. All of them had previously made offerings except Theodore Nott, but as he hadn’t done anything to Harry or his allies personally, Harry hadn’t expected a separate offering from him; his father had given the poor pregnant house-elf along with thousands of galleons and an enchanted telescope. Was this the final offering? If so, what was it? None of them had anything in their hands, nor was there anything being ferried by elves. Harry was at a loss, and that concerned him.
Only Theodore Nott knelt, right in the front. The others bowed their heads but remained standing as the elder Nott spoke for them. “We come as one to present you with a final offering, the Dark Lord’s personal property. We offer this unclaimed male omega.”
Harry realized just as the scent of available omega hit him – funny how he recognized it on instinct.
Theodore Nott wasn’t making the offering. He was the offering.
Dimly, over the rushing in his own ears, Harry heard Ron and Hermione gasp. He desperately wished he could politely refuse, as he had no interest in an omega, not from what little he knew about them, not when a person was being treated as livestock, but he remembered what Arthur and Vector had told him. No matter what, he could not reject any offerings. To do so would be to reject peace, and this one, the most valuable, the one presented on Voldemort’s behalf… he might as well come out and start casting curses then and there.
He swallowed down bile, very pointedly not looking in Ginny’s direction. “I accept and retain this offering.”
The Great Hall remained silent. Harry worried he was supposed to say something else, but what? Vector hadn’t mentioned anything about this.
“We will await your envoy,” said Narcissa Malfoy. “He will be ready for your claim tonight.”
That was probably what he was supposed to say, that he’d send an envoy.
“I will send my envoy shortly,” he responded, and watched in numb shock as the group of them walked out of the Great Hall.
The minute the Death Eaters were out, Harry snatched the parchment he’d taken from Malfoy, charmed the chest he’d kept in Sirius’s memory featherlight so he could carry it in his other hand, and fell in between Ron and Hermione. The three of them were supposed to walk abreast again on their way out, a fact he somehow managed to remember though he was nearly incoherent with rage that he wasn’t allowed to say no even to this. Once they got halfway to the antechamber, everyone in the Great Hall exploded into conversation behind them.
“Master is displeased,” said Kreacher as the door swung shut.
“They’re making me claim an omega,” growled Harry.
Kreacher beamed. “That is a great honor.”
“I don’t want it!” he snapped.
While Kreacher tried to make sense of this shocking news and Harry worked to get his wand to stop sparking with his anger, Arthur, Molly, and Bill joined them, with Vector and McGonagall hot on their heels. Ginny slipped in before McGonagall shut the door. Harry still couldn’t look at her face.
“Don’t let anyone in without permission,” said Arthur.
“On it,” said Bill, waving his wand in complex patterns at the door.
“You can’t possibly expect Harry to own a human being!” cried Hermione.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had obviously missed what they were told were traditional seventh-year lessons on alphas and omegas. Bill had filled in at Shell Cottage when it became apparent that Harry had presented as a latent alpha, and while Harry had been too preoccupied to worry overmuch about the details (he’d reasoned he could learn more later provided he survived long enough for it to matter), Hermione’s outrage over the view of omegas as belonging to their alphas had been a reassuring sign that she was well on the mend.
“He has no choice,” said Vector, quickly making herself Hermione’s least favorite professor. “Refusing such a generous offering after accepting other great treasures would be taken as a declaration of feud, if not resumption of war.”
“Then let it!” Hermione’s hair crackled in her anger. “Nott was offered for Riddle, who’s dead and killed his family, you can’t have a feud when there isn’t anyone to carry it on, can you?”
“And who offered him?” replied Vector. “All of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s closest surviving followers. They would carry on the feud, Miss Granger. All of them. You would have Mr. Potter declare ten feuds at once.”
Hermione froze. Beside her, Ron went deathly pale.
“You might have warned me,” Harry told Vector.
“We thought he was dead, Potter,” said McGonagall.
“If I’d had the slightest idea this was a possibility, I would have,” said Vector. “I’m sorry it did not occur to me, but as Professor McGonagall said, we thought him dead and had no idea there were any omegas likely to be offered.”
“There’s really no alternative?” Harry asked pleadingly.
“No,” said Vector, McGonagall, and Arthur as one.
He forced himself to look Ginny in the eyes. She shook her head, resolutely not crying by sheer force of will, and Harry ached.
“You’ll need to select your envoy,” began Vector.
“Give the man a minute, will you?” asked Ron.
Vector looked between Harry and Ginny. “You are aware that claiming an omega won’t stop you from dating and eventually marrying.”
“It will stop me,” said Ginny, not loudly, but firmly, and it should – as much as Harry hated this with every bone in his body, he wanted Ginny to be free, not chained to a man who couldn’t be left alone to make his own decisions, simply because he’d done what he had to and become a symbol in the process. She deserved more than that.
McGonagall pushed Ginny forward and conjured a curtain around Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny slipped through a moment later, after which Ron and Hermione left them alone.
“It should stop you,” said Harry. He looked at her, beautiful, fierce, brilliant Ginny, and hated the Death Eaters more than ever for taking her from him too.
“I wish it could be different.”
“So do I.” He wanted it so badly. Still, he should have known better than to think he might get what he wanted.
“You can’t start ten feuds. I could never be happy sharing you.”
“I know,” he said. “I know, Ginny.”
She looked off to the side, chewing her lip nervously. When she met his eyes again, she said softly, “You weren’t exaggerating that the weeks we were together were like someone else’s life.”
“No. This isn’t what I want. But that’s never mattered, why start now?” he added bitterly.
She kissed his cheek very softly, and Harry didn’t dare move. “Friends always. Even if it’s terribly hard at first.”
“Always,” he echoed.
With a final sad smile, Ginny left him alone, blinking back stinging in his eyes until Ron and Hermione came back, whereupon Hermione pulled Harry into a tight hug and Ron threw an arm around each of them.
“We didn’t kill enough Death Eaters,” grumbled Ron. Harry was glad not to be the only one thinking that.
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” said Hermione.
“Yeah,” he said. “So am I.”
“I’d hoped they would give you Malfoy Manor and you’d let us help you burn it to the ground,” Ron said.
“That’d have been great.” Harry wished mightily that was how the final offering had gone. Or simply a large number of galleons he could’ve donated to good causes, that would’ve been perfectly wonderful – anything would’ve been, compared to this.
“Mum’s gone with Ginny. Everyone else is waiting for you.”
Right. Waiting for Harry to stop being a person and go back to being the savior and symbol, no matter how much he did not want to.
Hermione said gently, “Mrs. Weasley isn’t mad, Harry. Well, not at you.”
“She said it’s unconscionable to put you in this position,” supplied Ron. “She thought she’d better go with Ginny, is all.”
“Of course she ought to,” said Harry.
He forced all his feelings down. There was no other way to get through all of this, and as it happened, Harry had a great deal of experience in handling unfair situations. This was just one more.
“Best get on with it,” he said.
Professor Vector agreed, as he’d barely emerged from the curtain before asking him, “Your envoy?”
“Would you do it?” He didn’t even know what the envoy needed to do and honestly didn’t care. All of this was being decided for him anyway – why pretend he had any real say?
“Of course,” she said. “Traditionally you would bring you would bring your omega to your home. We can prepare a room in the castle -”
“I’ve got a house,” Harry interrupted.
At once, Kreacher nodded as though he’d been given instructions. “Kreacher will gather Master’s belongings and prepare the house.” With that announcement, he took the parchment and chest before disappearing.
“I’ll go check it over,” offered Bill, “and take down Moody’s additions.”
“Thanks,” said Harry gratefully, making a note to ask for lessons on home security at the earliest opportunity.
“So much the better,” said Vector as Bill left. “I should not delay any longer. In the meantime, you’ll need to select someone to stand as your family.” She exited the room before Harry could reply.
As much as Harry loved Hermione like a sister – maybe because he loved her like a sister – he didn’t want her to be involved in this, and he suddenly missed Sirius more than he had in well over a year. Sirius would have known what to do.
He looked over at Arthur. Molly and Arthur had given Harry his watch on his seventeenth birthday, and the last few days, though they were planning Fred’s funeral, they made time for Harry, with Arthur offering quiet guidance in the frequent moments Harry was out of his depth. Even now, with Ginny too upset to stay in the antechamber, Arthur was there for him. It was almost, perhaps, like parents splitting their attention between two children who needed them at the same time, or so Harry supposed.
“Harry,” said Arthur, “I am not your father. I am not Sirius. Molly and I consider you part of our family all the same, and I will proudly stand as your family whenever you need or want.”
Harry was so overcome with emotion that it took him a moment to say, “Tonight, please.”
“Of course. Now, then, how much did Bill tell you when you presented?” asked Arthur.
“He said omegas are really rare so I probably didn’t need to worry about it, and I was busy figuring out how to break into Gringotts.” Harry thought back to Bill’s talk. “I’m a latent alpha, and there are a lot more of us than omegas, but it takes claiming an omega to become a true alpha – which some people want mainly so they can say they are.”
“I hope that condensed version is the result of your preoccupation and not the sum total of his explanation,” said Professor McGonagall with a touch of concern.
“Oh, yes, he explained it all in much more detail,” Hermione promised.
Ron loyally backed Harry up. “We had a dark lord to make mortal, you know.”
“He told us that perhaps one witch in three hundred presents omega, and not even one wizard in a century,” Hermione went on.
“No one bothered to ask if I like wizards that way,” groused Harry, who, now that he thought about it, couldn’t say he knew the answer as he’d never asked himself the question in the first place.
“You’re an alpha. It won’t be a problem,” promised McGonagall. “A male omega is entirely different from wizards.”
Before Harry could decide if he wanted to ask any follow-up questions on exactly how different, Hermione said, “Bill also told us that omegas haven’t any rights, which is appallingly…”
“Hermione.” Arthur’s firm voice managed to be kind with an edge of warning. “However valid the points you’re about to make may be, now is not the time.” When Hermione sullenly stayed quiet, he turned back to Harry and said, “It’s a serious responsibility. He will never be able to work, nor hold a vault of his own, nor even access yours independently should you not feel like making the trip to Gringotts, not least because he will require an escort in public. He will be wholly dependent on you. You will determine everything about how happy a life he has.”
“I have no doubt he will enjoy a better life with you than with anyone else his father or his father’s unlamented master would have chosen,” said McGonagall.
“Bully for him,” said Ron, and Harry did so appreciate it.
McGonagall sighed slightly. “You should not have been forced into this, Potter. I do not intend to argue that, merely to observe that he will likely have expected much worse for himself than I can possibly envision from you, and therefore may benefit from you making it clear that you intend to treat him well.”
When she put it that way, Harry saw the sense in her statement. “I will,” said Harry. “It’s not his fault.”
As angry as he was about the whole situation, Harry didn’t want to take it out on the wrong person, and clearly Nott, who wouldn’t even be allowed to do his own shopping without an escort, like a small child, was not the right target for Harry’s ire. His father was another story.
“Why would they think Harry would want this?” asked Hermione.
“They are the kind of people who covet anything rare as a matter of principle,” said McGonagall, “and a male omega is very rare indeed. He was not given as the most valuable offering without cause. Typically, in traditional pure-blood families such as the Notts, an offer for him would not have even been considered if it was less than three-quarters of a million galleons. Moreover, Potter is the last of his family. A male omega will be able to provide him with multiple sons to carry on the Potter name. That is a matter of great concern for them, so they assume it is a concern for Potter.”
“Multiple sons?” asked Hermione. “Bill said that it’s uncommon for a witch to have even three children, and omegas easily have several, but you said sons, specifically.”
Harry remembered the part about three children being the usual maximum. Bill had chided Ron for not explaining how unusual their family was, five children when their mother wasn’t an omega, at which point Ron had gone red and muttered something about it never having come up in conversation.
“A male omega nearly always births a son,” said McGonagall, “and never a squib.”
“He will belong to you, legally.” Arthur fixed Harry with a serious, compassionate gaze and ignored Hermione’s choking sound.
“Is it… hereditary?” Harry asked, because for all he’d figured that since Voldemort hadn’t killed him he was likely to have children in the future, he absolutely did not want children who were going to be born into that.
“No,” said McGonagall. “In fact, the children and grandchildren of an omega almost never present as such themselves. No one knows why some witches, and the very rare wizard, present omega. There is no discernable pattern, aside from Muggle-borns never presenting omega, and it does not run in family lines, so you needn’t worry about your future children.”
“He will also have physical needs, about which he’ll be better suited to informing you,” said Arthur.
Fortunately, Harry was saved from having to reply by Professor Vector’s return. “They’re forcing him into heat,” she announced.
“I’ll contact Madam Pomfrey,” said McGonagall.
By the time Vector had finished explaining the traditions, about what would happen and what Harry must do, and the one or two instances where Harry had choices remaining (more, it had to be admitted, than Nott was allowed), Madam Pomfrey arrived.
She held up a phial of thin, dark green potion. “You’ll need to take this if you want to prevent pregnancy. The Contraceptive Charm is next to useless during omega heat.”
Harry, who absolutely did not want a baby in nine months, hurried over and downed the earthy potion. He then endured an excruciatingly awkward, hurried sexual education on heat in male omegas from the matron, who had apparently looked it up in a medical reference book just moments earlier for his benefit. At least she cast a charm so no one else had to hear. Harry faced the wall to hide how red his face grew.
“Potter,” she said kindly, “I’m aware that this is not an ideal circumstance for learning about such important matters. Should questions about your bodies arise, no matter how uncomfortable they are to pose, please feel free to owl me at any time, and you need not put to parchment any questions if you would prefer to speak face to face. Of course you should visit St. Mungo’s for any serious medical concerns.”
“Thanks,” Harry said to her right ear.
She handed over another phial, this one filled with a light pink liquid which Harry thought was Headache Relief Potion, and a small round tin. “A forced heat will give him a terrible headache once it breaks. He should drink this as soon as possible, and I’ve charmed the glass unbreakable so you don’t have to worry about dropping it in haste. The tin is a salve for his claim bite. Use it promptly tonight, and then again tomorrow morning and afternoon, a third each time.”
He pocketed the phial and the tin. “You’re sure he won’t get pregnant?”
Pomfrey cast a spell which made Harry shiver so hard his teeth almost chattered. “Positive,” she said while the shivers eased more slowly than they’d come on. “You are entirely incapable of fathering children for at least six weeks, possibly as long as eight, and he’ll never conceive outside a heat, so you only need worry about the contraceptive potion four times a year. You may need to commission it from a potioneer if you don’t brew it yourself, as you need the alpha version. Under no circumstances should you substitute the standard recipe. It’s only ten percent effective for alphas.”
By now Harry wished he’d been able to sit in the usual lessons given at the start of seventh year on alphas and omegas – not to mention that in retrospect, he ought to have paid more attention when Bill gave his best substitute for those lessons.
“The rooms are prepared, and he is ready,” said Vector, who’d left and come back again while Harry tried not to spontaneously Apparate from embarrassment during his conversation with Pomfrey. “It would be discourteous to delay longer than necessary.”
“Oh no, we can’t have that,” said Ron sarcastically.
Vector frowned at Ron like he was a child, not a man who’d destroyed part of Voldemort’s soul. “This is part of the peace offering, meaning it has bearing on the formal end to the war.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, entirely uninterested in hearing the justifications. “I don’t have a choice, I know.”
He had to look away from Hermione’s sorrowful gaze.
“It’s not a death sentence,” said Vector.
“Oh, that’s all right then,” Harry snapped. “My mistake.”
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. “Is there anything else Potter urgently needs to know?”
Evidently there was not, because no one spoke.
“Potter?” she asked.
Harry couldn’t begin to pick one or two questions out as critical, so he said, “I’m as ready as I’m going to get.”
Hermione gave him another hug. Even she was at a loss for words, only whispering, “We’ll be here for you, Harry.” He nodded. That had never been in question.
Ron slapped him on the back. “I’ll buy firewhisky.”
“Thanks,” said Harry.
It did not appear that anyone aside from those personally involved in the claim preparations (or comforting Ginny, as that was the most likely explanation for Luna’s absence) had left the Great Hall. Everyone watched as Harry walked out of the antechamber with Arthur and Vector right behind him.
“Are they going to wait the entire time?” he asked once they were safely in the corridor, where Vector took the lead to show them to the designated rooms.
“They may,” said Vector. “You’ve not invited them to the display, so there is no explicit reason to linger except for the three representatives, but many will assume that a display in the Great Hall is a given.”
As bad as it was for Harry to have so many witches and wizards overly interested in him, he knew Nott had the worst of it here, what with all the people hoping to see him claimed as property, and that wasn’t even getting into the one optional part Harry had flatly refused before Vector had the chance to finish her sentence – he thought he’d even seen Hermione’s wand let out a few sparks at that point.
Vector and the others – Harry wasn’t sure entirely who and didn’t care enough to ask – had found two rooms on the second floor of the castle. Nott’s father stood with Rabastan Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, none of them holding a wand and all under the watchful eyes of four aurors. Chief Warlock Bones stood off to one side, and he held his wand at the ready.
Arthur stopped before they reached the others. “I wouldn’t have wished this responsibility on you, Harry,” he said quietly. “All the same, for what it’s worth, I have every confidence that you will prove more than equal to it.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, just as quietly.
Arthur looked as though he wanted to say more, if only Professor Vector hadn’t cleared her throat meaningfully. He settled for patting Harry’s back, and they resumed their walk until they reached Nott, Lestrange, and Malfoy.
Harry and Arthur exchanged nods with the three Death Eaters – Vector said it was important – and then, that done, Rabastan Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy withdrew along with Professor Vector and the aurors. Only three people would guard Nott’s door: his own father, for his family; Arthur, for Harry’s family; and the Chief Warlock, as an uninvolved party.
The elder Nott held up a phial of thick red potion. “He will be ready for you in thirty minutes.”
“I leave you to stand guard,” said Harry, making a show of checking his watch before opened the door to his waiting room across the hall. In other circumstances, it would’ve been an extremely comfortable room, decorated in shades of soft yellow and green with a large, inviting bed and what had to be an enchanted window since this was the middle of the castle.
As it was, he shut the door, threw himself on the bed, and drew on everything he’d ever learned about clearing his mind in an attempt not to think about Ginny.