Chapter Text
The water lapped at Harry’s feet as he watched the sun set. The tide was getting higher. Harry’s palms slipped through soft, pink sand as he leaned back.
Reluctantly, slowly, Harry stood up, roughly brushing the sand off his clothes. He was wearing blue-grey shorts, and a slightly rumpled white long-sleeved, band collared tee.
While Harry loved the beach, he strongly disliked the sand.
Perhaps that was too harsh of a judgment. He disliked the way sand had a habit of getting any and everywhere.
It was a peculiar contrast, as one could hardly have a beach without sand, but that was how Harry felt. Harry had tried rocky beaches, but they felt distinctly unfriendly.
Nevertheless, the sand was a problem Harry had quickly learned to rectify.
“Tergeo,” muttered Harry, pulling out his wand and flicking it at himself. The last bits of sand were scrubbed from his clothes, falling back into the sand around him. It was a very useful charm for Harry.
With another flick, but nonverbally, Harry summoned his shoes to him, which he had left further up the beach. He slipped into a pair of leather brown, low-cut beach loafers, without ever having to touch them. He merely raised each foot and let the shoe snugly float onto it.
It was a degree of precision that showed his adeptness with the Summoning Charm.
As the sun disappeared beneath the orange horizon, and the moon and a navy blue sky took its place, Harry reached for his necklace.
The base of the necklace was a thin silver chain, and a group of tiny, different coloured marble-like spheres sat on it. Each sphere was a Portkey to a beautiful destination Harry had found. In the middle of the spheres, was the necklace’s pendant, a symmetrical diamond owl feather.
Harry’s fingers brushed past it, as he instead moved to a sky blue bead, and spun it.
As it spun, it began to glow, a bright, magical blue, and Harry traveled away.
He landed in Teddy’s room silently, and found the boy asleep. Glancing to the room’s clock, he realized that he was a bit later than he had intended to be. He had wanted to come and put the boy to sleep himself.
It wasn’t because it was an enjoyable activity, as Teddy was rambunctious at the best of times, but rather because Harry felt it was wrong to leave the job to Andromeda every night.
But there was nothing to be done anymore, so Harry made his way to the kitchen quietly.
He made tea. It was a bad habit he was starting to develop, drinking tea so late in the evening, but there was something meditative that he found about the process.
He made tea in a muggle fashion. Retrieved the cup, ran the kettle under a tap to fill it before starting it, and then added his tea bag and sugar when he was done. There was never any magic involved.
Harry’s liberal use of Port Key’s was decidedly illegal, but Harry was never one to sweat the details. When he went into magical London, or Hogwarts, Harry figured he would simply stow the necklace away. And if the likelihood of being caught seemed high, Harry would just destroy the necklace and be done with it.
He was advanced enough with his Charms studies to charm the Portkeys over again without it being any large undertaking.
He was broken out of his musings by Andromeda, who had shuffled into the kitchen.
“Tea?” Harry offered, extending a cup in her direction.
She shook her head, “Not this late at night.”
Harry poured a cup for himself.
Andromeda eyed Harry with distaste as he added copious amounts of sugar into his tea.
Harry smothered a grin, having argued many times over the fact that his tea was in fact, tea, and not as Andromeda called it, ‘sugar water.’
He took a sip, enjoying its sweetness.
“Your friends came by today.” She said.
That surprised Harry. He set his cup down. “Who?”
“Hermione, Ginevra, and Ronald. They asked me where you were, and I told them that I had no idea, but that I’d leave a message. They asked me to tell you to Floo the Burrow the next chance you get.”
Andromeda’ expression turned pensive, as though she was unsure of what she was saying, “Are you avoiding your friends?”
Harry frowned. He hadn’t avoided them. He had just been busy with other things.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Andromeda spoke again, “They said you haven’t spoken with them in weeks, or responded to their letters.”
Harry blinked in surprise. It hadn’t felt that long to him. Somewhat defensively he said, “I was always going to visit them for Christmas.”
It was only a few weeks away.
But it was a lame answer, and no excuse for his behaviour at all. With all the methods of travel at his fingertips, the only explanation was that he had neglected his duty to his friends in the face of soft beaches and brilliant sunsets. Harry resolved not to do it again.
Andromeda shrugged, and turned around to leave, “What you do is your prerogative, Harry. You’re here for Theodore, and he’s all that matters to me.”
“I’ll Floo them.” Harry said, getting up at once.
Andromeda turned back and arched a brow at him, “Not until you clean up the kitchen you aren’t.”
Harry let out a short half-suppressed laugh, “Of course.”
With a wave of his wand, his teacup appeared at the side of his head, the kettle gently floated into its proper place, the spilled sugar crumbs disappeared with a nonverbal vanishing charm, and the table cleared itself properly, the spoons flying into the sink.
Cleaning was something Harry preferred to do quickly, and magically. He had wasted too much of his youth cleaning the kitchen for him not too.
“Impressive,” muttered Andromeda, “though it doesn’t make sense to have the cup at your head. Keep it at your hand level.”
“I’ll consider it,” Harry replied lightly, “Good night.”
He grabbed his tea and sipped at it. He wouldn’t change his cup position for the spell, and if Andromeda asked at a time where she wasn’t about to go to bed, Harry would tell her why.
It was in remembrance of the day Dumbledore had come to pick up Harry before his sixth year, and had charmed Butterbeer’s to continue knocking against the Dursley’s temples. He cherished the memory.
Harry stepped into the living room, grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder from the top of the fire place.
“The Burrow!” He said, and the green flames took him.
There was nobody in the living room, and Harry was tempted to Floo back home. He was only just realizing how impulsive of a decision he made. While it wasn’t late enough that the houses occupants would be asleep, it certainly wasn’t visiting hours.
Though they did say to Floo the next chance he got, they probably didn’t mean it literally, Harry thought. He scratched his chin for a moment, and decided that he would go back home and Floo in the next noon, or some more reasonable time.
He turned around to the fireplace, looking into the bowl that sat on top, but the dish was empty. The Weasley’s were out of Floo Powder.
Harry cringed at the awkwardness. To leave, he’d have to make a break for it to the end of the front yard, to get out of the anti-apparation boundaries the property had. His Portkeys and ability to apparatus were both useless under the wards as it was.
“Who are you?” A voice barked.
Harry turned around to see Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley was still dressed in his work robes, and looked disheveled.
The man looked at him in surprise, “Harry? It’s good to see you! What brings you here? You’re looking so…different!”
Harry got the feeling Mr. Weasley had been about to say ‘muggle.’
Mr. Weasley continued his good-natured ramble, “I hardly recognized you in that outfit.”
Harry interrupted, knowing the conversation wouldn’t go anywhere otherwise, “It’s nice to see you. Sorry for intruding, but Ron and Ginny Floo’d my house today asking for me, I just got the message and thought I’d come say hello.”
After a pause, Harry added, “Is everything alright with you, sir?”
Mr. Weasley looked ruffled by the comment, and replied, “Of course, everything’s well. I trust you know your way to Ron’s room, I’ll let you be.”
‘I know the way to Ginny’s as well,’ Harry thought, but didn’t dare say. He probably wouldn’t be as well received in the house anymore.
“And call me ‘Arthur,’ I get enough of sir at work, and you’re family.” Said Mr. Weasley.
“Thank you,” said Harry, looking the man in the eyes. He meant it sincerely. “Also, in case you’re not aware, I happened to notice you’re out of Floo Powder.”
Mr. Weasley walked over to the fireplace, and when he saw the empty bowl, his cheeks flushed, “Ah. That is unfortunate. Molly’s been rather distracted as of late. I suppose I’ll chance it with an apparition to work, and Floo from there to Diagon and pick it up on my way back. How will you get back to your home, though?”
Harry grinned, “I have my ways. But Mr. Weasley, aren’t you worried about splinching?”
Arthur swallowed, “Oh not at all. I’ve done more dangerous things.”
Harry nodded, though he didn’t believe the man at all. Harry trudged up the stairs to Ron’s room, leaving Mr. Weasley staring at the fireplace with a miserable expression on his face.
Harry heard the sounds of talking before he got there. He knocked on Ron’s door, and the talking ceased.
“Dad?” Ron’s voice came from behind the door, “Come in, we’re playing Exploding Snap Version 3.”
Harry opened the door and strode inside with a grin, “Sure thing, son.”
He took in the stunned faces of Ron, Hermione, and George.
They were seated in a circle on the floor, each holding a few cards, but they all jumped up when they saw Harry.
“Harry!” Cried Hermione, hugging him and exclaiming, “Where have you been?”
She pulled away and took a look at him, “You’re so tan. And you’re dressed-”
“Like a muggle magazine man!” laughed George, “It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise,” replied Harry, “Andromeda told me you guys came by to see me today.”
“We did,” said Ron, and then, getting distracted he said, “Where are you keeping your wand? You don’t look like you have pockets.”
Harry grinned and tugged at the bottom of his shirt, and in a flash the wand was in his hands, “A little Charm here and there go a long way. I thought there were only two versions of Exploding Snap, when did a third come out?”
George smiled, “Great question. It’s a WWW innovation, currently undergoing alpha-testing with my subjects here. Wanna give it a try?”
“Sure,” Harry said with a nod, “so, what are the rules?”
As George explained the game, and Harry got settled in, he asked, “So where’s Ginny?”
Hermione jumped up, “Oh! I’ll go wake her.”
Harry put a hand on her arm to stop her, “No, don’t. I just came to say hello, nothing special.”
Hermione whirled around angrily, “You haven’t said hello in ages, so it is a big deal.”
Harry cringed, “Sorry.”
Hermione’s expression softened, and Harry was glad. Hermione could never stay truly upset at him for very long. Ron, on the other hand, Harry thought to himself, ended up in the doghouse quite a bit.
“Do you want anything to eat, Harry?” She asked.
He shook his head, “No. I’ve been trying out a new diet, actually.”
“Diet?” Guffawed Ron, “you don’t have an eating disorder, do you?”
“I’m trying this new thing, it’s called Soylent. Muggles made it, and basically, you just drink a few bottles of it during the day and you don’t need to eat. It’s not weight loss thing.”
“You don’t eat?” Ron sounded horrified. “On purpose?”
Harry could not find it in himself to say that he had had a mandrake leaf under his tongue, and was worried that it’d come out if he ate solid food. He didn’t want them to think he was doing dangerous things alone, even though that was exactly what was happening.
Of course, the mandrake leaf wasn’t in his mouth any more, but he’d grown to like Soylent all the same. Cooking and eating took an awful lot of time more in comparison to drinking a ready-made smoothie. The only thing he really ate nowadays were sweets.
“So!” Hermione said sharply, and Ron dropped a card. “Where have you been, Harry? You’ve dropped off the map.”
Harry leaned back as Ron’s card exploded with a bang, “Mostly been going to the beach, taking care of Teddy.”
“So you’re a beach bum now, huh?” Said Ron amusedly, “Can’t say I ever expected that.”
Hermione glared at Ron, “He is not a bum, Ron. And I’m sure he’s doing other things, aren’t you Harry?”
“Beach babes are a special type of witch. I imagine he’s doing those. Does that count as ‘other things’?” Chirped George.
“Little Harrykins is finally capitalizing on his fame, and I’m glad to see it. Fred always thought you ought to get more girls than you did. He swore up and down if he was you, the type of witches he’d pull…” George trailed off.
Hermione looked scandalized, and Harry shook his head, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, “It’s not like that at all. I go to muggle beaches, and secluded ones nobody else can get to. No witches, or women at all.”
Hermione studied him, analytically scanning everything from his face to his hands. She came to a stop at his chest and asked, “What’s that necklace?”
Harry pulled his necklace to the front, allowing it to hang in full view. He watched their reactions.
Hermione’s eyebrows knit together, her mouth making a small ‘o’ shape, and she said quietly, “You really are a beach bum.”
Harry laughed. Ron peered at the necklace more closely, and cast a spell Harry couldn’t make out.
“Harry! You’ve made more than a dozen Portkeys! That’s illegal!” Gasped Ron.
George bumped his shoulder lightly and said, “Like Harry’s a stranger to breaking the law.”
“Harry,” Hermione admonished, “you really shouldn’t have. You should destroy those.”
“Yeah,” George joked, “Or Ron’ll arrest you and ship you off to Azkaban, isn’t that right Officer?”
Ron ignored George’s jibe and said, “You have your apparition license. What do you need twenty Portkey’s for?”
“They’re international Portkey’s. I think I’d splinch myself in half if I tried apparating.”
Hermione facepalmed, “International Portkey’s are a federal crime! And you have not a single good reason for doing it. Can’t you just stick to the English beaches?”
Harry shook his head, “Once you visit some of the beaches I’ve been to, you’ll know that’s just not possible.”
Shifting the topic, Harry said, “Want to see something funny?”
Without waiting for a response, he took off his glasses. He looked ridiculous, with two white perfect circles, and horizontal lines marring his otherwise tan face. Ron and George both laughed, but Hermione just pursed her lips.
“Hm,” She said, “Do you want to try contacts, Harry? I can see if I can find a potion or spell to help with your eyesight if you like.”
Harry grinned at her, putting his glasses back on, “I’ve thought about it recently. But Teddy laughs when I take off my glasses.”
Hermione smiled back at him, “The glasses definitely ruin the surfer image you seem to be going for.”
“I’m not a surfer,” protested Harry, but the idea of learning how to didn’t sound awful. He stored it away for later.
“Yeah,” George said, “that’s an insult to surfers. At least they do something. Harry’s just been lounging around.”
Ron and Harry laughed. Hermione frowned once more, and Harry, sensing an impending lecture, tried to get Hermione onto her favourite topic.
“So Hermione,” Harry asked, “how’s Hogwarts?”
“Good,” replied Hermione, smoothing out her rumpled skirt, “It’s been nice and educational, and nothing has gone wrong yet.”
Harry grinned, “Probably because I’m not there.”
Hermione frowned, “Don’t say that. I still believe you and Ron should’ve come back to school. Especially you, Harry. As a public figure you should inspire young wizards and witches to get educated and value their studies.”
“If I returned, which I could, I’d be the Defence Teacher, not a student. McGonagall owl’d me an offer in July.”
Ron gaped at him, “Are you serious?”
Harry nodded, “So Hermione, be careful with what you ask for, or you’ll end up with me teaching you for the Winter semester.”
Hermione chuckled weakly at that, “You’re joking.”
Harry shook his head, “I’m not. It’s a standing offer, I think. How’s your current teacher?”
“She’s alright…” Hermione said slowly, “I guess you teaching wouldn’t be a bad idea. You taught the DA already.”
Harry shook his head again, “It’s just not for me. You know how it gets.”
The room was quiet for a few beats, and Harry contemplated that maybe they didn’t know how it got. That maybe Hermione, Ron, and even George would have taken the post in a heartbeat had it been offered to them.
“Where on Earth have you really been?” Ron suddenly demanded, “Nobody knows what you get up to anymore, even Mrs. Black didn’t have a clue.”
Harry shrugged, and said dryly “Is this an interrogation?”
Ron flushed, but George filled in for him, “Hermione and Ginny have got school, Ron’s becoming an Auror, I’m running the shop, but we’re drawing a blank on you. Aside from the beaches and Teddy, how do you spend your days?”
“Trying new desserts,” said Harry with a wry smile. At the near imploding expression on Hermione’s face, Harry decided to add, “I’ve learned a few charms. I think I’ll pursue a mastery in it.”
“Like the Portkey charm” muttered Hermione. She suddenly gave him a very suspicious look, “Are you planning anything dangerous?”
Harry chuckled, “Why would you think that?”
“Well,” Hermione said, looking determined to get to the bottom of her questioning, “someone told me they’d seen you at a Duelling Club a month ago. I don’t see any reason for you to be there unless you’re planning something, and are trying to figure out some sort of combat skill.”
Harry cocked his head at Hermione. He supposed his behaviour did seem a bit unruly from an outside perspective. He didn’t know what to think about Hermione’s perspective becoming one from the outside looking in. It didn’t feel very good.
Ron had another question, though fortunately it was not for Harry, “Who told you they saw Harry at a Duelling club?”
Ron’s tone was jealous, and Harry suddenly realized who it was that had spoken to Hermione about him.
Hermione’s cheeks flamed, though with indignation or embarrassment Harry wasn’t sure, “It is none of your business who OWL’s me.”
“It’s Krum, isn’t it?” Accused Ron.
Hermione crossed her arms, “So what if it is?”
George yawned in an over-exaggerated fashion, “Oh dearie me, look at the time! It’s getting late, and it is getting awkward. I’ll be going now.”
George looked at Harry and tilted his head towards the door, and Harry stood up, getting the signal. He wasn’t going to get in between this.
As Harry made his way to the door, he called cheekily, “Ron, if you ever end up duelling Krum, he doesn’t guard his left leg very well.”
Hermione made a noise of frustration, but she got up to give him a hug goodbye, “Don’t encourage him.” She pulled back and grabbed his shoulders, “Answer my letters from now on. Get an owl. No excuses.”
Ron grinned as he said, “Thanks for the tip. Seriously Harry, don’t be a stranger! And Ginny will be furious with you for not letting Hermione wake her, so be ready for that.”
Harry waved goodbye and stepped out with George.
George put his hand on his shoulder once they were outside the room, “You’ll be here for Christmas Dinner, right?”
Harry nodded. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he would be wanted. The Weasley’s were still grieving. He didn’t want to burden them.
“Good.” Said George, “Mum loves you, you know. I know we’re past the point of formal invitations, but I wanted to make sure.”
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, and George didn’t linger, walking briskly up another flight of stairs to his bedroom.
Harry walked back down into the living room.
Seeing the empty dish above the fireplace, he remembered the lack of Floo Powder in the house, and Mr. Weasley’s queasy expression.
Quietly, he opened the main door and walked out to the edges of the front yard, out of the ward boundaries of the house.
He made a trip back home, grabbed some Floo powder, transported back, and resupplied them with Floo powder.
He left a little note on the kitchen table, just in case.
Harry sat at the kitchen table for a bit, in thought. If he strained his ears, he could hear Hermione and Ron arguing.
It had been a perfectly fun night. They had played games, and they’d fallen into the same conversational rhythm that they’d had for years. But Harry had noticed there was a restlessness stirring within him that he couldn’t shake.
It wasn’t a feeling he often felt.
He shook it off. For a moment, he considered visiting Ginny, even though he knew she’d be fast asleep. Just to see her face.
He sighed, and walked back to the fire place, making his way out of the Weasley home.
‘Christmas,’ Harry told himself, ‘I’ll be back Christmas.’
————— Christmas———————————-
Large droplets of rain fell fast and hard, drenching his winter coat, and the rain soaked field muddied up his boots and pants, but Harry paid it no mind.
As Harry sprinted towards his mini-recently-built shed, he thought of only two things.
The first was that he would be late for Christmas Dinner at the Weasley’s.
The second was that he was about to be an animagus.
“Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus,” panted Harry, his wand to his chest, its tip glowing an ethereal white colour.
He felt a second heartbeat, its beats powerful and slow. Adrenaline rushed through him as he entered the Southern-Pine coloured shed and grasped for the crystal phial he had so carefully stored.
Inside, was a gleaming blood-red potion. Harry stared at in amazement.
But he wasn’t one for excessive ceremony. Almost greedily, he repeated the incantation and downed the potion.
It tasted excruciatingly acidic. It burned all the way down his throat, and he could feel it moving around in his stomach, refusing to settle.
The second heartbeat accelerated, and Harry’s vision doubled. He crumpled to his knees, and a sense of panic overcame him. Had he done it wrong?
Had he just poisoned himself in a shed, all alone on Christmas day?
Both of his heartbeats beat faster.
He imagined the articles The Daily Prophet would write, feeling deeply sick.
His sense of revulsion managed to shake him out of his stupor, and Harry dimly remembered he was supposed to keep calm.
He focused on his breathing. A deep breath in through the nose, and held for five seconds, and then out through the nose again.
Harry’s head throbbed, and a wave of darkness passed through him.
He was in his mindscape, Harry realized. In the centre of the darkness, was a tiny blinking ball of white light, flitting about like a Snitch.
Slowly it grew larger, and instead of growing into the human shape Harry had subconsciously imagined it would become, it mutated.
The four limbs were still there, but it was clearly becoming a quadriped animal. Harry fought a scream as he felt himself being stretched, as the light grew larger and larger, dwarfing his own size.
He felt his face elongating into a snout, his back and chest growing massively muscular and hard, and his hands turning into massive paws.
And yet, Harry was not disturbed. He felt deeply like himself.
Stretching, Harry hit his head on the roof. Taking his furry brown paws, he swiped at the joints of the roof, and the shoddily built shed roof came tumbling down on him. He felt the impact as though he had felt the rain drops earlier.
He leapt out of the tiny shed, unable to open the door in his animal form.
He tried to walk on all fours, but his senses were so sharp it overwhelmed him. He could smell, see and hear so much more than before.
He could smell himself. Not in the form he was in, but he could smell the human form he had been in, and could follow his trail by smell alone. It was astonishing.
It was overstimulating.
He sat on his haunches, the process surprisingly natural, and calmed himself.
He was a Kodiak bear.
Harry got up, shaking some of the still-pouring rain out of his fur.
He tried standing on two legs, and though it was wobbly, it gave Harry the sense of how large he truly was. He was almost ten feet tall, and he made giant, deep paw-shaped indents when he moved.
He attempted to sprint on his four legs, and though he was over a thousand pounds, he was running twice as fast as he had ever run as a human.
He felt invincible. Harry laughed, and it came out as a bear’s chuff.
It was amazing. And what made it even sweeter was that Harry knew it was just the beginning in a long list of dreams.
In his excitement he forgot all about Christmas Dinner, where family and friends were waiting for him in Ottery St. Catchpole.