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Chapter Text

There was once a time where all things were doomed to end, where the dead remained dead and their experience was forever lost. It was a time of endless struggles and unavoidable pain, where even the most paradisiac of worlds eventually faded into dystopia or vanished in a burst of fire and blood.

It was a dreadful time to live in, particularly for the mortals born during the final decline of their world. Dimension, age, species and intentions mattered not as millions of mortals perished with their Higher Spirits watching helplessly from the sidelines, powerless against the Apocalypse – and sometimes, it was their own inner fights as they grew disappointed on their charges what ultimately caused their demise; in some particularly painful cases, the Spirits themselves chose to end the worlds entrusted to them, no longer willing to face what they saw as their most horrifying failures.

Through all of this, the Higher Powers stood and watched, not uninterested but neither exactly concerned by all the chaos. It was the nature of things to come to an end, after all, and one or a thousand universes meeting theirs wasn't worrying – just the Cycle of Life occurring, though perhaps a tad accelerated.

However, when the previously nigh-infinite amount of living universes was reaching a dangerously low count of just about twenty-three hundreds, the Higher Powers unanimously decided that They needed to do something lest the whole multiverse suffered the worst of fates.

At that point, there were three kinds of universes.

There were those that had completely disappeared, leaving behind empty voids of despair where they had once been located and vague memories of their former existence in those who had known of them. These were the majority and, sadly, there was nothing the Powers could do to save them, for they lacked even the most basic of materials for Them to work with.

Secondly, there were the universes where all life had been lost, and yet the worlds still existed – broken and hopeless and oppressed by empty silence, but they still were. Those were somewhat difficult to work with, but finally They agreed to set things back to the Beginning and watch them closely so as to not lose them again; perhaps, They mused, They would have to create new Higher Spirits to properly care for them. These worlds would be more experiments than anything else, and the wager paid off with equal amounts of thriving, death and Final Apocalypses; much as it hurt, They chose not to reset those that had somehow managed to perish twice under different patrons.

And last but certainly not least, there were the worlds that still lived, despite all of them being in various stages of their own Apocalypse; the stubbornness with which Life remained in them was seen as a proof of worth and resilience, leading the Higher Powers to pay more thought to the method they would use to make things right again. In these worlds, and eventually those who thrived after having died once, They decided to do something more than simply ordering the Higher Spirits to watch more carefully: give the best mortals they had to offer the chance and the responsibility to involve themselves with the happenings of the multiverse to a degree previously unheard of.

Because the Higher Powers are timeless beings, it was just a matter of decision for Them to observe what had already been so as to choose the mortals They would single out for this mission; as They would reset the worlds afterwards to allow the chosen ones to actually make an impression, it was entirely possible that some of them would never be born in their world's second chance. It was a delicate task with potentially bad results if They missed one key component, but They stood behind their choices.

These mortals were impressive in their own rights, without interference from any higher being and more often than not without much to distinguish them above their peers. However, what all of them had in common was their refusal to sit by as their worlds neared destruction and their willingness to work hard in their efforts to avoid it – not that they were all always successful, but it was the intention what counted.

Once They were certain that a mortal deserved to become a Legend, They plucked their soul away from their Reaper Spirit and held them closely, instructing them in their mission with the warmth and concern of a parent wishing their child happiness; once They were completely sure that They had all the souls these worlds could offer, they completely reset them at the same time – this, of course, included granting them new Spirits (which mostly meant shuffling around those that existed already). The souls that were not chosen as Legends were partially cleaned, so that they could not remember anything that had happened but retained the broad aspects of what had made them their own person, before they were freed and began to be born for the second and last time (unless, of course, they did something worthy of being Ascended).

Then, slowly, one by one, They started returning the Legends to mortal bodies (this time around, never in the world they had originally belonged to) with the whisper of their mandate in the back of their minds, hoping silently that this would work.

For the following millennia They watched and debated, making arrangements here and there when They thought Their plan could use some adjustments and occasionally (very rarely, just once or twice per thousand years amongst all the worlds) choosing new souls to become Legends. Mostly They just observed the proceedings, and when a Spirit asked for a savior They evaluated if the situation truly warranted one before taking a random, currently 'unemployed' Legend and placing them where needed.

The Hero Mandate all Legends received upon their Ascension wasn't absolute, however, but rather just a strong suggestion that would follow and whisper to them whenever they needed encouragement. Free will had been in most cases the sole reason why the mortal had risen to Legend, after all, and in an effort to preserve that treasure the Higher Powers had to accept the wager.

Sometimes, a Legend would keep true and take the world to a new level of Balance. Sometimes, they would sit by doing nothing to change things. Other times, they would try but be unsuccessful. It follows that, once in a while, a Legend would cause the world to spiral downwards; for these occasions, the Higher Powers would always insert another Legend to hopefully fix things, following the same pattern.

A few worlds would die regardless, but this time it was a natural, not-accelerated Cycle of Life. That it may or may not have been provoked by Legends was irrelevant.

Sometimes, the story of two or more Legends would be so intricately woven together that just the mere possibility of either one of them having risen to that status without the other by their side was inconceivable. They were not only almost as plentiful as the Lone Legends, but often more successful as well – because, clearly, they had their shared bond to fall back on whenever they needed strength.

They were also the ones most likely to cause a Final Apocalypse, especially if they had already reunited with their eternal partners and lost them in a violent way. Sometimes, not even other Tied Legends could prevent such an event.

Regardless, if the Powers could feel fondness it would be directed to Tied Legends above the Lone ones.

However, unlike the Powers, the Higher Spirits had emotions (it was an important part of the reason why some had begun to fight) and therefore could feel predilection. One aspect of this was that certain Spirits preferred to have certain Legends incarnated in their domains, based on their deeds in other worlds during their first lives and those that followed. Tied Legends who could bring worlds to Utopia without even trying were evidently top of the list, and would be the ones with most incarnations if the Spirits could choose which Legend to have born in the universe they watched over – as it was, they could only express their need of a Savior, and whoever answered the Call was, as previously stated, completely random.

Some Legends were, in this aspect, important enough that whichever Spirit had been their patron before their Ascension felt proud that their path started under their watch. The greater the Legend, the prouder the Spirit– the situation was very akin to a parent bragging about their child's success, which of course meant these Legends would have felt incredibly embarrassed to learn of this.

Quite understandably, one of the prouder Higher Spirits was the patron of the universe randomly identified as number 777. This Spirit's almost-smugness was absolutely deserved, for it had been one of the few to not be reassigned and, despite the fact that universe #777 had had its fair share of struggles and came close to death more than once, its population had always somehow managed to come out on top. And not only that, but this world had also given birth to an almost unbelievable number of Legends, many of which were widely liked by all the Spirits – but none like a trio known even by their world's mortals as the Heroes of Gold, or more commonly (even centuries after their deaths) as the Golden Triad.

These Tied Legends had been born millions of years into the existence of the universe they'd called home, in a critical point of history that without their intervention would have meant a Final Apocalypse within a couple hundred years at most. Their efforts, however, spawned over five centuries of unprecedented peace and gave ground for a relatively peaceful and prolific society that would only start to stir fifteen hundred years after their deaths (a situation that they would be later sent to solve, ironically enough).

The Heroes of Gold, three friends born with the gift their people called 'magic', lived long and successful lives, punctuated by selfless work in benefit of their world and little personal lives to speak of – there were, of course, but most of their time was spent in their restless pursuit of a society very much unlike that which they'd grown up in.

They'd loved their world and its people, and they'd loved their traditions and quirks, but they'd seen and experimented very closely (though not always personally) the downsides of each and every ingrained custom and neither felt the slightest bit comfortable leaving things be for the following generations to suffer through.

The eldest amongst them, called Hermione Granger, was the only female, a brilliant witch born from a long line of non-magical humans and the one that took the lead when it came to intellectual matters. The second in age was Ronald 'call-me-Ron' Weasley, son of a very long magical line and their inevitable guide when they needed an actual, honest-to-Merlin strategy. The youngest, Harry Potter, became famous as a toddler for surviving an otherwise lethal attack and with his unbelievable luck and natural charisma took the lead in every matter that was not appropriated by his friends.

Unlike many other Ascended, they would forge the beginnings of their legend in the fires of war – in a conflict they'd become involved in as children, a conflict that lasted three decades and killed thousands for the mere crime of not being pure enough to live. They were veterans of war by the time most mortals in their world were finishing school, hardened by battle and pain when everyone else was chasing love. But they'd been thrown in with little to no choice and they'd done the best they could, finally rising above all hardships and becoming pillars of a stagnant society – and instead of hanging their battle dress and settling with a standard, peaceful adult life, they decided to embrace their newfound status and do everything within their power so the war they'd won wouldn't start again, so that future generations wouldn't have to step forward and solve problems caused by their ancestors.

However, the rest of their rise to Legend had been... less violent, although not entirely peaceful. Indeed, the young trio merely transferred their combined might from the field of battle to that of politics, and within their long lives managed to establish the bases for what could arguably be considered one of the greatest civilizations their world had ever seen.

The Heroes of Gold met when they were barely eleven years old, and one would be lying to say that they became friends at first sight – in fact, they quite disliked each other for the first several weeks of their acquaintance, but there wasn't much they could do to be separated when they were in the same dormitory within the boarding school for young witches and wizards they attended.

Their friendship was, just like their legend, forged in battle.

They had barely known each other for two months when Ron, in what he would later call the most stupid thing he'd ever done but something he would definitely do again if only for what came of it, insulted a very stressed Hermione, who then spent the rest of the day crying in the bathroom. Later that night, during the Halloween feast, a troll was set loose within the school, and both Harry and Ron rushed to warn Hermione once they realized she wasn't in the Hall with everyone else. The troll entered the bathroom before they did, and so it became a fight to the death – the first the trio would partake in and come out of on top, stronger and closer for it.

They became friends after that day, always closer than family despite the many frequent arguments they fell into, due to them being too immature to interact smoothly with their clashing personalities.

Their worst arguments were during their third year at school, when Hermione's cat fixated on Ron's rat and later seemingly killed it, and again the next year, when Harry was entered against his will in a deadly Tournament and Ron immediately assumed it had been on purpose. Both times, their friendship tensed almost to the breaking point – and both times their bond proved stronger than their differences.

And so they stood together, engaging in yet another battle to the death against their enemies late into fifth year and once more in sixth, growing closer as their experiences held them together when everyone else their age was naïve and completely unprepared to understand their too-mature battle-hardened personalities.

What should have been their seventh year of school was spent on a trip around the islands their country was located in, as they looked for certain objects that needed to be destroyed before they could kill their greatest enemy, the same man who had tried to kill Harry half a dozen times since he was a toddler and was hell bent in conquering England for himself.

Ron wavered for the last time that year, when one of the objects they were hunting turned his mind and his insecurities against him, but he came to his senses immediately and spent the following month trying to get back to them until he finally succeeded.

That year was the worst so far for them, because not only their bond was tested again (for what they didn't know would be the last time), but they suffered the lives of political fugitives with grossly large bounties on their heads, away from their friends and families and knowing that, no matter how bad was their situation, their loved ones had it worse – because the others were living in the previous comfort of their home or the castle that was the boarding school, but they were also under the enemy's thumb and risked death every day for being who they were and being in some way related to the trio.

They almost broke under the pressure of that reality – not as a group (never as a group, not after they grew up and realised they needed each other more than their personalities clashed) but as individuals, as children forced to become adults way too soon, as teenagers forced to become soldiers and pick up a sword that their predecessors had so clumsily dropped, as young adults desperately trying to keep themselves together while their nation seemed determined to tear itself apart.

But they persevered, and they became stronger for it, and when the time came (when they'd destroyed every single one of their enemy's anchors, rendering him mortal once more), they were ready.

Ready to stand their ground and fight, to rally a young army against cruel mercenaries who'd oppressed and tortured them for a year, to become the symbols their people needed to stand against evil, to stare into the abyss and will it to blink first, to raise their weapons and risk their lives for a nation that didn't quite have to courage to stand for itself.

And it hurt.

It hurt and they bled and their hearts broke, and their leader died saving those he loved and the world he'd fallen in love with despite its many faults, and he came back and they stood together to deal the final blow against the forces that would subjugate and kill millions if someone didn't stop them.

And in the end, when the sun rose and shone over a broken hall where once upon a time children had eaten and played and laughed and loved life and magic and love, when they looked upon the cooling bodies of those who'd fallen and the barely together frames of those who'd somehow survived, at once they knew what they needed to do.

Because it wasn't enough to take up arms and kill a man if the ideology behind him remained alive.

It wasn't enough to defeat a small army if the society who'd given birth to them didn't move forward.

It wasn't enough to end one reign of terror if chances were another would come, mere decades later, and force more children to grow before their time and become soldiers to fix a mess caused by their ancestors.

It wasn't enough to topple one tyranny when the pieces were set for another to settle into power.

It wasn't enough to overcome one ideology in battle if they couldn't erase its roots in a stagnant society.

It would never be enough.

For their world to not suffer again, it needed to become better. And it wouldn't do so on its own, not when the powerful were comfortable in their seats and the poor and forgotten were too intimidated and used to their place to realize there was something deeply wrong.

Someone needed to nudge their beloved nation into change, to lead it to a brighter future and show it that life could be better if everyone had a better place.

And if not them, who?

Chapter Text

The week after the Battle of Hogwarts was a chaotic blur.

Busy as they were with helping capture the few Death Eaters that escaped, identify the unmarked supporters, compile a list of the victims, call out to the still-hiding fugitives of Voldemort's regime, repair the castle and bring the Ministry to some semblance of order, it took them far too long to process what they lost.

One of Ron's brothers came back to the family after almost three years of distancing himself from them, but another's life was cut tragically short.

Hermione discovered that memory charms could no longer be undone twelve months after they were cast, and that she'd thus forever lost her parents a week before the Battle.

Harry lost a distant but much beloved cousin, as well as the last of his parents' friends, and the news finally reached him that his non-magical relatives had died two months before.

It was wrong and upsetting and tiring, and even though it hurt and added yet another weight to their shoulders (the weight of a loss, of a death they felt they could've avoided if they'd only been more intelligent, faster, stronger, better, more), they couldn't yet take time to mourn – not when their world needed a fast response from its idols to not fall into chaos, to keep standing even if severely beaten down.

As the days went by, their busy schedules had to add memorials and funerals, press conferences and meetings at the Ministry, making sure their loved ones were alright and spending some time with little Edward "Teddy" Lupin, Harry's orphaned godson – it was so much work they were lucky if they could sleep a full five hours in one go, and even then it only happened when two were taking care of things while the third slept.

It took over a month for them to manage a quiet night away from their current responsibilities, and even then they were practically forced to take some time off by a very concerned set of friends and family.

Early on June 15th, they were given wallets packed with muggle money and dumped on muggle London, with strict instructions to relax and not come back until late the next day at the soonest.

Lost and confused, they stared at each other for a moment, then at their wallets and back at each other, and finally they shrugged and went for the nearest diner, figuring that if they were being forced to take a break they could at least have the food they'd been too busy to enjoy in the last five weeks.

Soon enough they were acting like tourists, hopping from one place to another and pretending the memories didn't hurt – but they did, and it became evident when they found a quiet bar, walked inside and began to drink.

They would hardly remember most of what happened between that day and the next, when they were tracked down by their friends and taken back home after said friends realised they were too drunk to keep enjoying their break.

When they sobered up, the three friends sat down and discussed their trip around London, eventually agreeing to swear oaths to avoid drinks unless on the occasional social event where it was strictly necessary to keep a glass in hand (even if stretching it the whole duration of the event) in order to maintain a certain appearance of friendliness – because they couldn't very well make their society better if they resorted to alcohol to ignore the pain.

No, they had to be lucid and in full control of their capabilities, and for that they couldn't drink even half as much as they had that night, but they knew that they weren't yet strong enough to stop drinking if they had more than one glass of anything stronger than wine.

With that resolution made and the oaths taken, they realised they hadn't yet decided what, exactly, they were going to do with their lives – only that they had a society to fix. In order to solve that little failing, they determined to stay locked inside the study on Harry's house (inherited from his godfather) until they came to satisfactory solutions.

The easiest was, perhaps, Hermione. She'd always been a staunch advocate for justice, with all it entailed, and it was therefore only logical that she follow the best path for bettering the various problems their society had in those regards: she would need to get into the Wizengamot, the legislative and judicial branch of their government, to move forward the laws they'd need – but, before that, she would of course need to study the current system, to actually know what they'd have to change, erase and create.

Ron was also quite fast to determine. He was a fighter, a strategist, and he'd always felt more at home fighting bigotry and injustice with his wand, with his magic, his strength, rather than with his words and speeches he barely had the patience to listen. Thus, the best path for him to follow was that of a Law Enforcement officer – he would join the Auror Academy, and climb the ranks until he directed the arm that would enforce and protect the system they wanted to implement.

After that, it was a bit more difficult but, in the end, still logical to decide Harry's future. He was charismatic, ambitious, cunning and the most public figure their society currently had, as the twice-defeater of a Dark Lord and sole survivor of the Killing Curse – and, what's more, when he spoke, people listened. Quite conveniently, he already had two seats in the Wizengamot (a rather middle-class one, from his father's family, and a high-profile position from his godfather's), and so it only made sense that he'd use those seats, his natural charisma and the fame that'd been dumped on his head to press for the changes they'd need.

Hermione would propose, Harry make true and Ron enforce. It was the perfect plan, really.

That September was important for their efforts – because Hermione was accepted as the apprentice of a respected member of the Wizengamot's Legal Office, and Ron received his letter of admission into the Auror program, and Harry claimed his seats. Small steps, perhaps, but steps towards their goals nevertheless.

Why shouldn't they be content that their project was moving along nicely?

Before too much happened in their respective positions, though, they had to deal with another issue: the death of Andromeda Tonks, Teddy's grandmother and guardian, left the toddler on Harry's care – which, even if it didn't feel like a chore, or like he was being held down or saddled with unwelcome trouble, was a little bit troublesome, because Harry was eighteen and not entirely sure of how he'd manage between caring for his godson and working with his friends to better their world.

"We'll manage, mate" were Ron's words to him on the night of the funeral, after Andromeda's body was cremated and the ashes buried on the Black Family's ancestral lands as was traditional.

(Because the first thing Harry had done after claiming his place as Head of House Black was bringing Andromeda back into the family, accepting Teddy and –posthumously– his mother as children of House Black and expelling more than a few unsavoury individuals, some of whom were no longer alive.

His actions had caused ripples on their society, and several unhappy grumbles from those who'd now lost their connection to the substantial money and influence of the Black family, which he couldn't care less about.)

Harry looked up from the sleeping toddler on his arms, who'd morphed to look like a diminutive copy of Harry as he always did when held by the teen, and smiled at his best friend –his brother– grimly.

"I know" he answered. "We always do."

Ron nodded resolutely and clapped him on the back, while Hermione gripped his upper arm tightly in silent support.

And they did manage – with help from Ron's family, particularly his mother, who was very happy to care for the little boy while the trio worked or studied.

Teddy missed his grandmother, obviously, but he didn't have time to feel alone, because he had a large family regardless and they never let him feel like he wasn't loved, even if no one had a halfway close blood connection to him.

Less than a year after Andromeda's death, Ron graduated from the Auror Academy with honours, top of his class despite having skipped several courses (it couldn't have been any other way when he was already capable of running circles around most Aurors by the time he received his OWL results), and went straight to work as the junior partner of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who really preferred working on the field rather than being stuck behind a desk and thus had rejected to hold the Minister's office until things were settled enough for elections.

(Normally, the first step for Auror graduates was to patrol and guard places like Diagon Alley or the Ministry Atrium, not going straight to investigating serious crimes and tracking down high-level criminals – but Kingsley was confident in Ron's abilities, and the second he heard of Ron's admittance into the Academy he'd gone to the Heads of the Auror Office and the DMLE requesting that the youngest Weasley boy be put to work with him as soon as he graduated.

Ron wouldn't learn of this until a few years down the line, at Kingsley's retirement party, where the man would admit that, besides recommending the young Senior Auror as his replacement as Head Auror –a position that Ron had literally only heard ten minutes ago would go to him–, he'd also made that request.

Ron would never forget that a good reason for his meteoric career in the Corps was Kingsley Shacklebolt's trust.)

It took until early May of 2001 for Hermione to finish her studies and start working as a magical solicitor and soon enough as a barrister – barely four months later, she was contacted to begin working at the Wizengamot's Legal Office, a position for which she'd only planned to apply later on.

(A lawyer entering the WLO with less than two years of experience was almost unheard of, so she hadn't seen the need to bother seeking a job there despite it being her mentor's workplace.

What's funny is that, regardless of what she initially thought, Harry hadn't had anything to do with the offer – he'd actually been offended when she asked, and went on a fifty-two minute rant about how he didn't have to pull any strings when his friends were brilliant enough to get high-level opportunities on their own.

That also served to appease Ron that his status in the Corps had literally nothing to do with his younger brother and everything to do with his own talent. If Ron had held any lingering insecurity at that point, it would've been erased right there.)

Around the same time, the political arena began to stir in preparation for the General Elections of 2002. Harry, who had been thinking about having a try at one of the many elected positions of the government (a relatively low-level one, to start with, maybe in one of the Wizengamot local committees), was caught off guard when a rather unexpected offer came from wildly different fronts.

Representatives of the Light bloc of the Wizengamot (Heads of the more progressive Wizengamot Houses) approached him on September 1st, quite out of the blue, and expressed their desire to nominate him for Chief Warlock. The Greys (progressive in some aspects, traditionalists in others, and the bloc Harry belonged to – especially since he held seats traditionally belonging to the Light and Dark) made a similar request after the monthly meeting the next day, when Harry was still reeling from the Lights' offer and considering if he felt ready for that.

Then the Ministerial bloc (certain high-profile Ministry officers) asked him early on September 4th. The Representatives (chosen by the populace) weren't far behind, expressing their choice later that same day.

The shock came when the Dark bloc (staunch traditionalists, most of which had family members become Death Eaters during both wars) came to him at the end of that first week of September.

If Harry chose to run for Chief Warlock, his election was practically a fact – because, although the position also called for popular vote, the voices of the Wizengamot members had much more weight and he literally had the support of most of that body (there was the chance of members not supporting him, but the blocs only spoke for the majority of its own so he could be moderately sure). Every bloc wanted something of him, a compromise so to speak, to champion their causes and move for certain changes, but that was to be expected and the requests (said or otherwise) were nothing that made him pause.

The Lights still saw him as their Golden Boy who could do no wrong and would surely drag Magical Britain kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.

The Greys saw in him a strong and charismatic candidate, one who could move the whole country with mere will towards what was actually best for their people and not what an ideology said.

The Ministerials wanted the Wizengamot and the Ministry to stay out of each other's business for the most part, because regardless of whatever their influence inside the magical parliament could provide their Departments and Offices the previous two wars had proven it was a really bad idea to have both bodies so deeply intertwined.

The Representatives simply suffered from a case of hero-worship worse than the Lights – the general populace seemed to see him as a sort of magical messiah, much to Harry's chagrin even if it was helpful in his political ambitions.

The Darks, however, saw in him a candidate who'd already proven he wasn't letting anyone lead him by the nose, whatever their political leanings, and figured that he was their best chance for keeping the Lights from sending everything to hell with their stupidity. Besides, it was obvious that they wanted to step away from the stereotype nailed on them through the Voldemort Wars, and supporting the one who stopped said Dark Lord was a logical move.

He met with various people over the next week, spending a few hours each day with Hermione, Ron and Percy (their godsend of a political advisor, who was impossibly proud of Harry for going into politics and taking it seriously) going over their plans and considering every possible consequence for every possible move.

Finally, on the twentieth, with Hermione already installed in the WLO and Ron freshly promoted to Senior Auror, Harry officially launched his candidacy for Chief Warlock.

There were other candidates, but whatever they did was never enough – they didn't have the support of any Wizengamot bloc, if anyone in the parliament even set their money on them, and most ran personal campaigns.

Harry's campaign was concluded with a massive event on the third day of 2002. The elections were held on the twelfth, and the results were conclusive – Patriarch Henry Potter-Black was elected as Chief Warlock with full support of the Wizengamot and 87% of popular votes, which made for a whooping ninety-four percent total.

One of the most interesting things about Harry's election, at least to the international press, was the young wizard's age – he was, at twenty-one years and five months of age, the youngest head of magical parliament since their people began to use said institutions in the late 10th century.

Magical news media all over the planet commented on the oddity, even those who cared nothing for Magical Britain (for a variety of reasons, most of which circled around their stagnation, sense of superiority and holier-than-thou attitude – all things the trio planned to change even if it wasn't helpful to gaining international allies).

Then Harry took over the seat from Patriarch Cyrus Greengrass, and at his opening speech at the Wizengamot Plenary he reiterated his intentions for significant change in their society, so that they would once more be the greatest magical nation in the world.

Hermione was perhaps the happiest about his victory, since he could now propose several of their more radical changes with a surer footing – he hadn't been able to do much as a newbie, regardless of the power of his seats or his own personal popularity. Sure, he'd managed to start the discussion for things like a Ministry-funded magical orphanage, but none of his (admittedly few) proposals were anywhere close to getting the first draft prepared.

No, Harry's first three years at the Wizengamot had been, just as predicted, slow and tiring and dedicated entirely to getting comfortable and making alliances, something that had clearly proved useful – but now he had a chance, and he wouldn't waste it.

The first proposal he made as Chief Warlock was setting up a Ministry fund so that every muggleborn who set foot on Gringotts could get a blood test done in an effort to find heirs to dead families – the wars had taken a heavy toll on their people and there were way too many unclaimed vaults sitting at the goblin-run bank, which meant there was a fortune that, instead of being put to good use in their slow economy, was only collecting dust.

It was a success, and in barely three months the Wizengamot approved the bill that set up the Lineage Revival Fund.

(The goblins were obviously thrilled at the mere thought of more gold moving, having already forgiven the whole dragon incident during the end of the war – Harry's standing in regards to the place of non-humans in society was known and very much appreciated by said non-humans, who'd watched Harry's career with interest since those opinions became known and had secretly celebrated his campaign and election.)

Their following proposals weren't quite as dramatically successful, but it was obvious for anyone with eyes that Harry's work as Chief Warlock would be as fast-paced as his rise to said position.

The first time he made the papers for something other than his political career was in early July of the same year of his election, when it came to light that he'd legally adopted his orphaned godson on June 29 – the papers gave a brief summary of everything that was known about Edward Remus Potter-Black (which was limited to his name, parentage and for how long he'd been living with Harry) and remarked that no one had ever seen the boy, who was now four years old, because his adoptive father kept him out of the spotlight with remarkable fierceness.

(The Prophet in particular suggested that Harry's protectiveness was perhaps born of a need to prove Albus Dumbledore wrong, since the late hero had hidden Harry himself away in the muggle world so he'd grow away from the press and without developing a big head.

Just for that, Harry decided to tweak their noses by giving the Daily Quibbler –the wildly popular newspaper founded by the Lovegoods to be a mostly serious counterpart to their still eccentric monthly magazine, and the one paper widely considered to be the Prophet's greatest rival– an exclusive look into the daily life of the Potter-Blacks, even allowing a picture of them sitting in the public lounge of Black Manor.

Personally, Harry found it hilarious that Luna saw the exclusive as a prime opportunity to continue tweaking the Prophet's nose for what they seemed to think was journalism. But, well, there was a reason why the previously most popular paper was being shoved to the background.)

Thirteen months later, Kingsley Shacklebolt retired from the Auror Corps and nominated his former partner to replace him. And so it was that, at twenty-three years old, Ron Weasley became the youngest Head Auror in history, surpassing Thomas McKinnon who was a week older than Ron when he took the post in 1882.

He hadn't held the post for a week when he had to deal with his first mess, which was really just the conclusion of a disaster that had been months in the making – a group of extremists who had been really unhappy with most of the reforms being proposed by the new Chief Warlock and backed by the Minister finally decided to make their displeasure patently obvious by attempting to blow up the Wizengamot building.

The explosion wasn't as bad as the attackers had hoped, but it being during the Summer Plenary there were still victims – twelve dead and over sixty injured, half the building in need of repairs (a lot of it urgent if they didn't want it to collapse), the DMLE abuzz as it tried to figure out how the hell the attackers had gotten through and the country in a mild state of panic that was only to be expected.

Especially since someone leaked to the press that pamphlets alluding to pureblood supremacist propaganda and pro-Voldemort sentiments had been found on the scene. It got worse once people heard that their beloved Chief Warlock had been admitted to St. Mungo's and, though he was expected to be fully healed within the week, had actually narrowly avoided being killed in the explosion thanks to unnaturally fast reflexes and a lightning fast wand (both lingering consequences of the war, skills learnt during that time and kept sharp by training periodically with his Auror friends).

The DMLE, and the Auror Corps in particular, were under intense pressure from the Ministry and the Wizengamot to bring the culprits to justice.

Two days after the explosion, with the DMLE reasonably fearing an attack at St. Mungo's and being extremely worried not only about Harry's safety but also about any possible collateral damage to the patients, and without enough resources to protect the hospital while keeping up with their other posts, it was decided to better send Harry off to Black Manor with a heavy security detail and a couple of healers to continue his treatment.

A week later, the DMLE cracked down hard in several locations all over the country, arresting six witches and nine wizards connected to the explosion at the Wizengamot building. Interrogations gave more and more names until nearly a hundred people were judged and convicted to Azkaban after a long trial that ended almost six months after the attack.

Meanwhile, Harry had recovered and was back in office at full strength, pressing for harsher laws so that groups like this one wouldn't have a chance to grow again.

(It felt like he was using the tragedy for that end, but Harry hadn't dared try to bring up this kind of law while people were still mentally recovering from the war and wouldn't appreciate being reminded of the violence their fellows could be capable of – doing so might've been enough for people to stop being so supportive of him, and they still needed that support.

But with the reminder being given not in form of a speech, but rather as a terrorist attack in one of the most guarded locations of the Isles, they were willing to listen and continue to rally around the Golden Trio's cause.)

For this, Hermione's new appointment as the WLO Undersecretary (which she began on August 19th) was essential, as it gave her more power to move people to research how to properly move these anti-terrorism laws.

This was their main focus for the next few years, but their positions allowed them to work on that as well as their other projects in a shorter time than they'd expected.

By the beginning of 2006, Magical Britain had begun to move forward to a future where people wouldn't have to live in fear of their own government allowing a group of extremists to disturb their society. They weren't quite there yet (there would be a few more violent episodes in the following decades), but now it looked like an actual possibility instead of mere wishful thinking.

It was therefore unsurprising when Hermione rose to Head of the Wizengamot Legal Department in mid-March, as the press gleefully credited her for her work just to tweak the noses of those people who still saw muggleborns as inherently inferior, nor when Ron was named the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement just a few days later, as he'd been essential in the swift end of the terrorist cell that threatened to throw their country into yet another war and the previous Head knew that without the youngest Weasley boy leading the Corps things might've ended years later.

Later that month, Harry announced of his candidature for Minister of Magic and received wide-spread approval and expectation, as he'd already enjoyed of unprecedented popularity as Chief Warlock during his four years in office and people were sure the elections would be a mere formality regardless of whoever opposed him.

The Ministerial Election of 2006, the first since the end of the war, was held on July 23, and two days later Harry rose to the highest elected position in Magical Britain with a resounding 95% of votes.

He was almost twenty-six, a visionary who'd proven time and again that he only wanted what was best for their people, a war hero and a one-of-a-kind icon capable of rallying around him people of all sorts of political leanings. It was evident that he'd be elected.

On the twenty-sixth, Harry made front news in all the major newspapers of Europe and a dizzying amount outside the continent, all of which featured different shots of his victory speech the previous day and spoke of his youth, his vision and his crushing victory. The British papers also dedicated a side piece to the unexpected presence of eight-year-old Edward Potter-Black at his adoptive father's side, standing tall and proud and looking every bit the noble heir he was being groomed to be.

(Harry at first didn't agree with the idea of bringing his son to such a public event, just as he hadn't liked the idea of talking about him during interviews –something that didn't become an issue until the press caught wind of the adoption and gathered the courage to ask him about the boy who up until then had only been the orphaned godson he was raising–, but Percy was right that having the child be a complete unknown would make things more difficult to him once he was forcefully shoved into the spotlight when he started Hogwarts.

Not to mention that it was protocol for the families of elected Ministers to accompany them on the podium for their victory speech and for the ceremony where they took office, and if Harry broke that protocol a lot of undue attention would fall on Teddy.

Therefore, the Potter-Black heir would attend all the events that the Minister's family traditionally went to, unless there was a reasonable excuse for his absence.)

On the twenty-eighth, Harry announced his personal staff, led by Percy Weasley as his Undersecretary.

(The announcement was enough for people to suddenly begin paying a ridiculous amount of attention to the Weasley family and wondering what the hell had the parents done for all their children to be so successful – because Bill was Head Cursebreaker at Gringotts, Charlie one of the best dragon handlers in the world, George owner of one of the biggest and most versatile companies in Europe, Ron the youngest DMLE Head in history and Ginny a starter Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and now Percy was to be the right hand of the Minister of Magic.

There was also Fred, who despite having died young was a war hero and along with his twin the co-founder of the company, so obviously he would've been extremely successful had he lived to see the end of the war.)

For the elected Minister's twenty-sixth birthday, he was greeted in the morning with papers from all over the world giving a summary of his family history and detailing his biography and his work – with special emphasis on how he was the youngest elected head of a magical State in history and a war hero who'd turned to politics as soon as his role in the initial post-war recovery was done.

(Much to his confusion, more than a few papers and magazines added commentary on his appearance and judge him "classically handsome".

It would be a recurring theme for the next few decades, as he would appear on several lists on good-looking wizards. Eventually, he would also make lists in the muggle world.

Ron, of course, would think it all hilarious and read articles aloud, taking special delight in teasing him about the articles that swooned about his looks and gossiped about whether or not he was involved with this or that celebrity. Hermione would simply roll her eyes and mutter that it was ridiculous how they fixated on his appearance and love life rather than all the work he was doing to make a better society.)

The 25th of August dawned sunny and pleasantly warm, a Friday the likes of which hadn't been seen in ages – many would say a perfect day for their hero to finally take the place he deserved. The morning papers prophesized a better future and not only unprecedentedly fast-paced seven years ahead, but also the future re-election of the man who would become the Minister of Magic that day.

(Personally, Harry would've thought that was looking too far ahead if their plans didn't need more than seven years to be completed anyway. After all, one period in office couldn't be enough to finish their self-imposed mission, not even with the three positions they would hold when the sun came down.)

The ceremony was to be held before the Wizengamot Plenary and the heirs to Wizengamot Houses, high officers from the Ministry and the Wizengamot, guests from allied governments, a small handful of carefully chosen journalists and the families of the incumbent and elected Ministers. The general public wasn't allowed in the chambers without an invitation, which was theoretically handed after intense scrutiny from the security staff – but the attack on the Summer Plenary had proven such measures inefficient, as it wasn't unusual for corruption to get its sticky fingers in the security checks. Therefore, security was now temporarily in charge of the DMLE while the Wizengamot's team was reformed and trained up to the Head's standards – and Ron Weasley had almost lost his best friend in that attack, so he wasn't going to put said best friend or his pre-Hogwarts son in danger by slacking off.

In the end, it all boiled down to the ceremony having an expected public of less than half the people who'd attended it in the past, something that annoyed certain people but reassured the soon-to-be-Minister.

The ceremony would begin sharply at noon and go on for one and a half hours, at which point the new Minister would have lunch with his predecessor and their families before heading to the Ministry, where the public would be waiting for Harry's first speech as the Minister of Magic. After the speech, he would be led to his new office, where he would be handed the metaphorical key to the Ministry's secrets and left alone to floo over to Downing Street so he could introduce himself to the Prime Minister.

Harry had all of this process memorized, including his speech, to the point he could go through most of the day asleep – except Hermione would kill him if he appeared any less than completely alert during the most important day of his career thus far.

He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

Breakfast was a quiet affair on the family hall of Black Manor, filled by the huge family he'd built around himself and kept sane only because of the importance of the day ahead. It might've been easier, in a way, to just have that first meal of the day with only Ron, Hermione and Teddy, but as he grew he'd found that he always felt better just being with his family of choice – and today, he needed the comfort if he was to step up to fill the one position in the magical world that'd made most of his Hogwarts years a pain without his disdain for so many of his predecessors showing on his face.

(He was just really, really glad that Cornelius Fudge, despite being the only former Minister –other than the one still in office– who remained in the world of the living, had not been invited to this ceremony by reason of him still being stuck in Azkaban for a long list of crimes, including corruption and treason.

He wasn't sure he'd manage to avoid cursing the man on sight, which would be an unfortunate way to start his term.)

At ten on the dot, Harry stood from his seat at the head of the table, looked down its length to all the faces he'd come to associate with Family, and felt his heart full with the knowledge that the dream he'd had during most of his childhood, of leaving his relatives and finding his own place in the world, had come true in a way that was even better than he'd ever hoped – because he had a family to call his own, because he loved and was loved in return by people who genuinely cared about him in a way his relatives hadn't understood.

Then, looking at Teddy and feeling himself smile back at the young, lively, happy face of the boy who was his son in all but blood, he placed his hand on top of the unruly black hair favoured by the young metamorph.

If nothing else, he hoped he was doing right by Teddy, that all his hard work would mean the world his son would meet when he left for Hogwarts would be infinitely better than the one that had first threatened to smother him almost fifteen years ago.

"Well, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Chapter Text

Three – Family (Part I)

Black Manor, Glamorgan, Wales. April 29, 2009.

When the day of Edward Potter-Black's eleventh birthday dawned, his life couldn't be any more perfect. He had a large and loving family, he was top of his class at the prestigious Queen Elizabeth Academy and would soon graduate said primary school to learn actual magic, and his father never lacked time to spend with him despite his busy schedule.

The only thing missing was his invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – but he was turning eleven today, so that meant his invitation was already on its way, if the owl carrying it wasn't waiting at the kitchen table already!

So excited he was about finally receiving his Hogwarts letter that he was up by seven (having woken up two hours earlier, barely keeping himself in bed with the reminder that not even his aunt Hermione at her worst was up at five) and zooming down the stairs by seven fifteen still half-dressed.

"Edward."

Teddy froze mid-hop, with his shirt on backwards and balancing on his left foot as he put on his right shoe, and slowly turned his head to smile sheepishly at the stern redheaded man frowning at him from the kitchen entrance.

"... Hi, uncle Percy. Nice day, isn't it?"

Percy Weasley's frown deepened. "Go back to your room and fix yourself up. I won't have you greeting your father looking like that, least of all on your own eleventh birthday. And for the love of Merlin, don't run!" he added at Teddy's rapidly retreating back, letting out a deep sigh when his pace only barely slowed down.

Really Teddy should've expected the man to be here for his birthday – other than uncle Ron and aunt Hermione, both of whom lived at the manor with him and his father, he was closest to Percy, who was his father's right hand at the Ministry and had stood right beside him long before Teddy even learnt to walk. All this, of course, meant that he'd grown up around the third Weasley brother, and he was the Weasley he saw the most other than uncle Ron.

It was obvious that uncle Percy was going to come have breakfast at the Manor today – he would want to be there to see him open his letter. He knew that the rest of the extended family would come over that evening for his birthday party, but if one Weasley other than uncle Ron was going to be here to see him open his letter it'd be uncle Percy.

Ten minutes later, when he returned downstairs and was deemed presentable by his uncle, he was finally allowed to step into the kitchen. He greeted the family's three House Elves as each preferred and moved to the small rectangular table to kiss aunt Hermione's cheek, accept a hair-mussing from uncle Ron and hug his father before taking his usual seat at his aunt's right, all the while smiling at their birthday wishes.

"Sleep well, Teddy?" his father asked with what he knew was barely contained humour, gaze once more fixed on his newspaper.

"More or less" he muttered around a piece of toast.

Henry Potter-Black snorted. "Be like that. It's not like the complete lack of rest won't come back to bite you later. Here," he interrupted Teddy's protests, "the owl dropped it off a minute before you came in."

Teddy could pay no mind to his uncle Ron's gentle teasing, heartbeat roaring in his ears and wide eyes focused on his name and address written on thick yellowing parchment with elegant green ink.

Mr. E. Potter-Black

The kitchen.

Black Manor.

Ravensmoor.

Vale of Glamorgan.

Teddy smiled from ear to ear.

He was going to Hogwarts!

–o–

Gringotts, London, England. September 06, 2009.

"A blood test?"

"It's not mandatory," explained the human liaison between the Department of Lineage and Gringotts Bank, "but by law we must offer it to all muggleborns that step into the bank for the first time. The Wizengamot –that would be the magical parliament– felt it would be best for our economy to reactivate the vaults of families presumed dead, to which end the test is offered. Any and all costs are covered by a Ministry fund, of course, regardless of the results of the test."

The human employee looked at the newest family sent over to him for the test and, while he waited for a response, studied the ten-year-old he was offering the test to. There was a handful of families the kid could be descended from, given that she had no physical characteristics instantly attributable to any one family.

Her eyes, though, tickled at something in the back of his head. They weren't family eyes, like the Blacks' silver or the Malfoys' blue, but there was nonetheless something hauntingly familiar about them.

"I'll take it" said the little girl, no hint of doubt in her voice or in her eyes, full of stubborn determination, and he smiled at her.

So unbelievably familiar.

"Alright then. The test is easy as pie, you just pinch your finger with this needle and drop three drops of blood into this little bowl here. I'll mix your blood with the potion from this vial and this quill will use the mixture to write up your family tree. The quill only writes up four generations, including your own, so if your last magical ancestor is further back it'll only gives us their name. I'll heal the wound quickly so don't worry about that."

As he talked, he got the implements out of the box they were normally stored in inside his desk drawers, in the exact order he was mentioning them. This was muggleborn number twenty-seven he'd tested since being promoted to the position after his predecessor was promoted himself, and he already had his little input in the process down to an art.

The only part he still had trouble with from time to time was informing old traditionalist families about their newfound members, but he doubted even the previous liaisons had mastered that part. The Rosiers, the sixth family he'd had to notify, had been a proper nightmare, not in the least because the only family member who wasn't dead, a fugitive or in Azkaban at the time was a vicious old hag who'd been living off the much depleted family coffers until a kid appeared with a much higher blood claim – she'd tried to kill the Rosier account manager when she found out why she'd been cut off from the Rosier vault (as instructed by the kid following said account manager's recommendation, because goblins loathed that particular sort of Dark wizards more than they loathed losing gold and they'd made it a point of giving advice on that line to any and all kids who had the power to make their lives miserable), so she was now in Azkaban.

Well, at least whoever this girl was related to couldn't possibly be any worse than the woman stupid enough to try and kill a goblin while inside Gringotts. At worst they would be equally as bad, if she happened to be a Rosier – which he seriously doubted, seeing no clear similarity between her and the Rosier boy.

The ten-year-old grabbed the goblin-steel needle and pierced her thumb without hesitation, which again tickled at him funny because there was something about this kid.

Soon enough he was propping the quill up near the bottom of a rolled-up parchment and waiting as it wrote up the girl's maternal ancestry, which gave no names he recognized from his extensive studies of magical bloodlines in preparation for this job, and then continued on to her paternal ancestry. And then it wrote an additional name, signalling it as a maternal relative.

He didn't pay much attention to the last name, though, too busy trying to catch his breath at this child's paternal line.

This... this was unexpected.

No wonder there was something familiar about the girl. Her last name, inherited from her mother and far too common in the muggle world, was really ironic considering her paternal ancestry.

With the quickness gained by long practice, he went through the post-test protocol (copying the results with normal ink on a normal piece of parchment, dropping the needle and quill in the sterilizing box and burning the original parchment) and stood from his seat.

"Please excuse me for a moment."

Without waiting for an answer from either young Gwendolyn or her mother Sarah, he practically ran for the floo in the break room at the end of the hall, grabbed a pinch of green powder and tossed it into the fireplace, barking an address he'd never thought he'd call while on the job.

"Yes?"

"He needs to come here. Something's come up."

The man at the other side of the fireplace frowned – thankfully, he knew the liaison well enough to know that he wouldn't be calling unless it was truly important, and so treated the request appropriately. "He's just finished a meeting. I'll let him know and clear his schedule. Give us... three minutes."

Exactly three minutes later, the liaison opened the floo connection to that particular fireplace and moved aside. The Minister of Magic and his Senior Undersecretary stepped through, both frowning but neither tense – they knew that the call would've been more urgent and through another channel if this was the bad kind of important news.

"Justin," the Minister greeted. "What's going on?"

Without a word, Justin Fawley (formerly Finch-Fletchley, discovered to be descended from a thought-to-be-dead magical bloodline when he took the test he now administered) handed over the parchment in his hands. He silently watched as Harry's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, minute changes that only those familiar to the Minister would notice – never mind recognize as signs of surprise. Harry then gave the parchment to Percy and looked at Justin.

"The test was accurate?"

"Batch was made by Theodore Nott."

Justin didn't really need to say anything else. Nott might be no Snape or Slughorn, but he was still one of the youngest Potions Masters to ever come out of Hogwarts and masteries weren’t granted to just anyone. Besides, the man had voluntarily buried himself up to his eyeballs in vows and magically binding contracts to ensure what he brewed for his Ministry contracts was up to the most exacting of standards – with the potions being sealed in magically impervious vials, untouched until use, there was absolutely no chance of the lineage potion being faulty.

Harry, who had worked in the protocol Justin now followed back when he was still the Chief Warlock, and who had also given the final stamp of approval to Theodore Nott's employment, knew all this better than nearly almost everyone in government.

"Who knows?"

"Only the three of us."

"How did this happen?" Percy asked, looking directly at Harry.

The Minister pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "That time your brothers dumped Hermione, Ron and I in London after the war ended,” he replied with tired certainty. “They're in your office, Justin?"

Justin nodded once. Harry was clearly in shock if he kept asking questions he already knew the answers to.

Oh Merlin, the press was going to have a field day with this. Harry hadn't had a single scandal nor the tiniest piece of negative press since the end of the war, but this...

The Minister of Magic had a ten-year-old daughter. It was the single most scandalous thing that had happened to Harry in over a decade and if handled without care it could demolish his career.

Percy returned the parchment to Harry, who frowned at the additional names at the bottom left corner – the last magical ancestors on the kid's maternal line.

"Cygnus Black and Violetta Bulstrode were my dad's grandparents" he commented absently. "Considering everything, they're almost certainly from great-uncle Marius' line – the family tapestry doesn't show the lines of disinherited individuals, and he was kicked out after not receiving a Hogwarts letter."

"So your... daughter is related to the Blacks on both sides?"

Harry grimaced, if at the sudden reality that he had a daughter or at the thought of how much more work this would cause him, Justin couldn't presume to know. He did, however, know the man well enough to know that he'd be completely willing to recognize his daughter as such, if he was allowed to.

"I'll meet them if they're willing, Justin" he said, instead of replying.

Justin knew what was being asked of him, then, and nodded firmly before setting back for his office, leaving both men waiting in the break room. He stopped by the offices of a few colleagues to grab the paperwork he felt might be needed and returned to his workspace to find Sarah and Gwendolyn Black patiently waiting for him right where he left them, clearly interrupting a hushed conversation as soon as he opened the door.

"I apologize for the delay" he said as he sat down and put the folder on top of his desk. He joined his hands. "Now, I have here the results of your lineage test, and turns out you have close magical relatives. It's good news for you, young lady – the family owns an enviable estate and has gained a splendid reputation in the last decade, and the Patriarch is willing to recognize you as a member of his family."

"What would that recognition mean for her?" the kid's mother asked.

Justin smiled. "Young Gwendolyn will have the protection of the family Patriarch, a powerful man who will do his best to make sure she has the opportunities to go where she wants in life. I know him reasonably well, so I can tell you he'll only have few and very reasonable expectations from her. Not many children who first come into this world can say the same."

"Expectations?" Sarah Black asked tensely.

"He can explain it himself, if you want to meet him. He's already in the bank."

His clients exchanged looks, the girl wide-eyed and the mother frowning, and then the kid nodded and her mother sighed.

"Alright, we'll meet with him."

"Wonderful. But first, ma'am, Gwendolyn's father–"

"We don't know who he is."

Justin blinked once, twice, shook his head and grinned. "You'll meet him soon enough, ma'am. Please,” he added, motioning to the small sitting area that was in his office for just this purpose, “make yourselves comfortable while I go get him."

It was as he was closing the door that he heard young Gwendolyn yelp "My dad's a wizard?"

His grin remained on his face until he wrestled himself back to control halfway back to his office.

–o–

Sarah Black's life could be generally summed up in one word: ordinary. Despite her family being fairly high profile and wealthy enough to not have to worry about making ends meet, they did their best to have quiet, mostly ordinary lives.

Born and raised in a wealthy district of southern Manchester, she'd attended a good private institution a couple blocks away from home for the entirety of her schooling and done not outstandingly well, but certainly well enough to get accepted in a good university in London, where she continued to be an above-average but not outstanding student.

Things had taken a turn for the not-ordinary during the summer after her first year, when a night out in town with her friends resulted in the discovery, three weeks before the start of second year, that she was pregnant.

She could remember leaving the bar with a cheerfully tipsy black-haired, green-eyed guy that night, so at least she knew when it had happened, but it made for an embarrassing talk with her parents when she had to explain that no, she didn’t know the father, but she was pretty sure his name was Harry – which, unfortunately, was the name of way too many guys the correct age and physical description in London alone, and from what he’d said he wasn’t even a local.

The baby, named Gwendolyn Dorea Black, was born perfectly healthy. Her family moved to London to help her with the baby and her university was more than accommodating of pregnant students and of those with children, meaning that she only had to lose the second semester of her second year and then could go back to her studies, even occasionally taking her daughter with her.

Not soon enough, she graduated (one promotion behind her original one, but still in the upper grade brackets) and went on to simultaneously further her education and work with a London-based law firm that was completely fine with her having a four-year-old daughter.

Over the next five and a half years, she climbed positions in the firm and continued to live her mostly ordinary life and give her baby much of the same that was given to her – except for the fact that she, unlike Gwen, had known both parents and didn't also live with her grandparents growing up.

Some strange things happened around her daughter from time to time, mainly when she got in some situation that made her feel too strongly, but their lives were still within what she considered ordinary.

Then her father's career reached what was effectively the top he could get, at least while still inside the country, and their little family got all the attention it hadn't before. And then, each event within days of the other, they got an unbelievable letter in the mail, a friendly woman proved that the impossible was possible, and they explored a commercial district taken right out of a fantasy storybook.

Not even the unexplainable multitude of scarred people (or any of the other hints that something had gone horribly wrong not too long ago) had been able to dampen the wonders of Diagon Alley, full of novelty and life and magic.

And then, because the universe hadn't had enough of surprising them, they stepped into the bank to exchange some money and were promptly shuffled off for a blood test. One that declared that her baby's father, the man whose name she didn't know and had been completely unable to find (she had tried, God had she tried, if only to let him know he was a father and to give him the chance to be in Gwen's life), was in fact a wizard.

Well, at least that cleared up the source of her daughter's talents.

The friendly clerk who'd dumped this information on them (not that she could blame him for it, as this was his job and he clearly believed it to be wonderful news for Gwen) returned quickly the second time, now with two men in tow.

Even if Sarah hadn't remembered anything about Gwen's father, it would've been easy to see which of the newcomers she'd met so long ago – the one in the middle, the quietly confident man whose bearing was now so different from in her memories but whose colouring was clearly, now that she looked at him again (and properly, too), the source of Gwen's.

She'd thought Gwen's hair came from her, but looking at the man now she could see their daughter had his messy pitch black rather than Sarah's curly almost-black dark brown, and the skin tone which had always been paler than the rest of the family's was an exact match to his, and her green eyes were very obviously from him and not Sarah's mother. With the other similar features she could point, there was no question this man was Gwen's father.

(And God, he wasn't exactly a tall man, and with Sarah being rather short herself there was little hope of Gwen ever not being among the shortest people in the age group – her daughter, she knew, would be annoyed by that once she stopped being excited over meeting her wizard father.)

She was momentarily confused by the lack of glasses, but it had been over a decade and he'd seemed around her age even back then, so he'd probably had his eyes corrected. Not an expensive process for him, she was sure, judging by the entirety of his appearance.

(The clerk, Mr. Fawley's, words came to mind then. Gwen's father was clearly of old money, even if he hadn't acted much like it when they first met – but then again, they'd both been a little ways past tipsy, and it's easy to lose the mannerisms of high society in those circumstances.)

"Ma'am, young miss Black, may I introduce Patriarch Henry Potter-Black?" the clerk spoke, to which the man bowed his head in greeting before they all took seats.

"You're my dad?" Gwen asked before anyone could say anything else, leaning forward to look at him more closely.

He blinked, probably at the abruptness of the question, and smiled. "Apparently so. But even without that I would still be responsible for you in the magical world, since your mother's great-grandfather was a Son of Black and I'm the Patriarch of that House."

Gwen gave a wide-eyed look at Sarah, who blinked. "Marius? But he was normal– I mean, I'm sure he couldn't have been a wizard."

"Oh, he wasn't, but he did come from a magical bloodline – he wouldn't have mentioned it, though, not with how most magical families kick out their nonmagical offspring at some point. It’s... not something we’re particularly proud about."

There was a long pause as Sarah tried to reconcile this new information with what had been obvious to her before now.

"I have to admit, I've never been called to the bank to recognize a child of one of my Houses, let alone one I fathered, so this is very new to me even if I did practically write the protocols. Gwendolyn– may I call you Gwendolyn?"

"Call me Gwen, everyone does" her daughter answered promptly.

"Gwen it is. I'd like to recognize you, maybe even claim you, whichever you and your family would prefer. Full disclosure, though – I used to be something like Head of Parliament and I'm currently Head of State, so there would be some societal expectations on you if you wanted to be claimed, given the work I've done in those offices."

"What's the difference?" Sarah asked. "Between recognizing and claiming her, I mean."

"I apologise for not explaining. Essentially, both acknowledge she belongs to the bloodline, giving her rights to economic support from the family. However, a simple recognition is more limited, in that she would have less access to the resources of the family and I would only be able to grant her a small number of concessions, such as a small vault upon her graduation. So, let's say I didn't give her any further rights, she would be known as Gwendolyn Black of the Houses of Potter and Black and she would only have the right to ask for support until her graduation from Hogwarts.

"On the other hand," he continued, after waiting to see if they had questions, "claiming her would socially mark her as a Daughter of the House, giving her slightly higher rights than I would be allowed to grant her if she was recognized – some of the most important would be the backing of the House in job, study and marriage pursuits. In this instance, if I didn't give her anything else, she would be known as Gwendolyn Black, Daughter of Houses Potter and Black, and she would be entitled to economic support through her schooling, a small vault upon her majority and a limited inheritance from her closest relatives."

"Are there higher, uhm, levels?" Gwen asked, looking genuinely interested. "It's only, it sounds like that can't be it."

He studied her for a moment in silence, almost long enough that Sarah began to think that maybe her daughter shouldn't have asked that before he smiled at her, a hint of approval on his eyes.

"There is one," he admitted, still smiling. "A legitimate child has the full status of a member of the House, meaning they can inherit anything the family holds which would be allowed for them to get under the internal bylaws of the House, they can ask for support of the Patriarch or Matriarch at any point in their lives and are permitted to use the name in their pursuits – but, conversely, they also are looked at as representatives of their Houses, meaning there is a higher societal pressure on them than there is on illegitimates. Given this, I cannot yet offer you legitimacy, simply because I don't know enough about you to know if it would be a good idea for the continued reputation of my House – but, if I did, you'd be known as Gwendolyn, Daughter of Potter and Black, and would be allowed to, say, sign letters and official documents with a House signet, and even possibly inherit titles and key heirlooms."

Gwen looked at Sarah again, who didn't yet feel like erasing the frown from her face. "You said there would be expectations because of your work," she said. "What is it that you've been doing?"

"I've been pushing for what is essentially a complete overhaul of the magical side of our country," he answered. "There are far too many issues with how this community was when I was barely older than Gwen and it only got worse with time... discrimination based on blood status was sanctioned by the government and anyone not fully human had no rights to speak of. Corruption and nepotism were standard practice, a time-honoured institution if you will, especially within government. Education started at eleven and was... not ideal. Laws were patently biased and unfair when there were any at all. Ever since I took my seats in parliament I've been doing my best to resolve those issues and many more, but there is still much work to be done."

"The Minister has become the face of the proposed status quo," the still-unnamed redheaded man added, "which is why he's had to be very careful with his public image – and, in our society, one's public image is tied with their family's. More than one powerful individual has fallen from the top due to public actions of one who carries their name, and if the Minister's family name was to be sullied it would almost assuredly mark the destruction of all his work."

"And that work is very important for those like myself and Gwen who weren't raised in this society," Mr. Fawley continued. "It's given us and other previously disadvantaged groups the chance to live more comfortably, with less fear and more acceptance and even chances to rise up in society."

"This is not a campaign speech" Gwen's father interrupted, dryly, when the redhead made to continue talking. "Suffice to say I'm trying to make this a fairer society I can proudly pass down to the next generation. So, yes, there are expectations placed on me and mine, perhaps greater than on others, but that is not to say that you'd have to walk on eggshells even if you were legitimised."

"What kind of expectations?"

The man looked briefly at Sarah, long enough to acknowledge she'd spoken, but still his eyes quickly went back to meet Gwen's. Sarah couldn't feel offended by that, even if she'd been inclined to, since she understood the one who would have to live up to those expectations would be their daughter.

(Jesus, she had a daughter with the highest political authority of an entire hidden nation. Her family was going to have a blast with this.)

"Nothing if I left it at recognition, since I am legally required to do that at the very least and it's understood that no one who has that status regarding their bloodline can be taken as a representative of the rest of the family so they can take far more freedoms. I should mention that there is a handful of ways someone can lose that status, such as committing crimes against others of the bloodline, but I don't think that would be a worry here.

"Claimed children aren't seen as representatives of their families either, but it is generally expected for them to be similar to legitimates – for example, if the family produces a high number of respected law enforcement officials, a claimed child of the family would be more quickly accepted into the ranks, where it would be presumed they'd follow in their relatives' footsteps. Socially, their behaviour doesn't reflect on the rest of the bloodline, but unless they proved wildly different, the bloodline does reflect on them. Which is why you should know that, if claimed, it would be remarkably easy for you to go into either business or politics, and if you did it would be expected you'd generally have views aligned to mine – but, if you didn't, it wouldn't reflect on me."

"And what would you expect of Gwen if you claimed her?" Sarah asked.

"Only that she doesn't acquire a criminal record and avoids being too free with what money I give her – if you wish for me to claim Gwen, I would give her more money than I am obliged to, simply because I have too much of the stuff and not enough to spend it on, but that would stop if Gwen proved irresponsible with it. Honestly, when I say there would be expectations if she was claimed, I mostly mean from the rest of society, which I already explained."

Sarah didn't react, but it did sound reasonable to her – God knew her father would've cut her off rather quickly if he'd given her large amounts of money and she misspent it. Her daughter was already being raised to be responsible in her spending habits, anyway, and she doubted that would change if given limited access to her own father's large fortune.

"That doesn't sound bad," Gwen answered.

Her words earned her a blink and a slight smile from her father, who, after studying her closely for a long moment, turned his attention to Sarah and studied her as well.

"I can hire some tutors for Gwen," he finally offered. "Regardless of what you choose. Even if she decides to step as far away from the family as she possibly can, our society is different from yours and it would be best she learn how to carry herself – she won't be going to school with near as many high-society heirs as I did, but it can only help her to know how to, say, avoid a social faux pas. Percy," he called, looking at the redhead beside him, "when would my schedule clear up?"

The man, apparently his assistant, took a slim book from his pocket and began to flip it. "No sooner than mid January, unless you miss the Summit. If next year's budget is resolved quickly and the Wizengamot doesn't object too much, you might have somewhere between a week and three relatively light between November and December."

Potter-Black shook his head. "I cannot miss it without insulting the Khan," he told his assistant. He turned back to Sarah. "Which means I can personally handle some of Gwen's lessons starting on January and maybe some in November and December, if you'd like.

"Also, there are public magical schools she could transfer to for this year, if you wanted her to get a start on a few magical topics and meet some of her future classmates. Children can do just fine without it, but we've found it's useful. Percy can send you some informational packages later if you need more details before making a decision."

"In London?" Gwen asked, looking like she was trying hard to stamp down on her curiosity.

(Sarah could understand, since she knew her daughter wasn't looking forward to the coming school year – maybe it would be a good change, if only because she'd get to know some of her future boarding school classmates before having to live with them.)

"Personally I prefer the one in Cardiff," he admitted with a small grin, and Sarah wondered if she was missing a joke, "and the commute wouldn't be an issue, but if you would prefer there are three schools in London. Should I assume you are interested in the packages then?"

"Please," Sarah answered, seeing her daughter's wide-eyed look sent her way.

She very much doubted things would be as easy for Gwen as portrayed, having such an important man as her father in a society she was coming to as an outsider, but it still didn't sound like something she was against allowing her to be exposed to.

"About guardianship..." she began, trailing off at his frown.

"She stays with you, of course. I have to be honest and tell you that it would be quite easy for me to get custody, being her father, a wizard and a politically important person, but I will not attempt to remove her from your home unless I have evidence that she is being mistreated. If something happens to you, technically she would be given over to my care, but I can give you a magical vow that I'll allow her to live with whoever you wish – again, unless she was being mistreated. I am willing to give you the vows right now, on the terms I've mentioned."

Sarah needed to take a long pause. Knowing that the man in front of her could easily take her daughter away was... terrifying, but she hoped he was honest when he said he wouldn't do that – if it was true, she figured that at least it was reassuring to know that he did care about the wellbeing of a daughter that he'd just learnt about.

So she accepted his vows, and made a note to later go over to the bookshop and get some information on them, because then she wouldn't be wondering if one day he'd just wake up and decide he wanted to raise her in his own household, away from Sarah.

"It'll need to be done after her status is formalised," Mr. Fawley said from his seat between the two groups.

"Of course," Potter-Black answered. "I suppose there are two questions then – first, if you'd like me to recognise or claim Gwen. Second, if you would like to change your last name and, if you do, whether you'd like to go by Potter or Potter-Black."

The latter question had the assistant looking at him sharply and the clerk blinking, which made Sarah think that changing the name was not only not mandatory, but also possibly a rather big concession well above the minimum a head of family should do for their relatives.

"Would you like some privacy to discuss it?" he continued, ignoring the looks sent his way.

"Why the name?" Gwen asked in return.

Mr. Fawley took over that explanation, still looking a bit bewildered. "Children who take the test can choose to continue to use their last name or change it for the one used by their last magical relative and, if they are related to more than one, they can only hyphenate them if there are no living members of those bloodlines carrying the name. In your case, that would mean you would only get to name yourself Potter or Black – but, since your father has a hyphenated name, you can do the same."

Which meant that if Gwen began to use the name of both magical families she was more closely related to, everyone would know who her father was, while even if she changed it to Potter people wouldn't instantly assume she was the Minister's daughter.

"I do have to warn you that I come with a lot of baggage," her father continued. "I was known as a war veteran before I became known as a politician, so people would look at you more closely than they would at any other recognised or claimed child if it was widely known you're my daughter."

"What he means to say is that he was a wildly famous war hero at seventeen," Mr. Fawley cut in, giving the man a look that screamed exasperation. "You would be a matter of national interest from the second the connection was known, even if expectations wouldn't be so high as they would be if you were legitimised."

So that was what had gone wrong, Sarah realised, the reason there were so many people with visible scars in their short walk from the entrance up to the bank. This community had been at war not too long ago, recently enough that a man her age had been fighting in it before she moved to London.

Of course that Gwen couldn't just be the daughter of a high-society man of very old money who also happened to be the highest political authority of an entire nation – no, the man also had to be a war hero who'd gone on to overhaul a corrupt system.

She was about to ask for some privacy to talk about this with her daughter when the girl herself beat her to it.

"I'd like to have both, then – the claim and the name."

Suddenly, all the attention in the room was directed right at Gwen, who, being the headstrong girl that she was (and God, Sarah would blame Henry Potter-Black for it when she figured he was the same, and he would be well aware she was absolutely right), didn't even twitch.

"You don't have to make a decision right now," Gwen's father answered, probably reassuring Sarah given the way he was looking at her. "Take as much time as you'll need to corroborate what we've told you. All that really has to be done right now is to recognise her, anything else can come later."

Gwen, all of ten years old and stubborn with it, shook her head and squared her shoulders, her face set on a slight furrow that Sarah had learnt to recognise as her being truly determined about something.

(It was, she would figure out with time, another thing she'd gotten from her father, along with her stubbornness, bravery, selflessness, ambition, kindness and absolute lack of patience for fools and wasted time. Her smiles and grimaces and that tension that would grip her back when stressed, the reckless way she'd take to the air, that willingness to stand up for her convictions and fight injustice tooth and nail – all things that Gwen had been showing her entire life, unconsciously taken from a man Sarah met only once and wouldn't see again until Gwen herself met him.)

"No, thank you, I want to do it."

Potter-Black looked at Gwen, really looked at her as if he couldn't quite believe she was real, and just twitched his lips in a smile that lit up his eyes.

"That's all well and good," he told her, "but I'm afraid I need to defer to your mother here."

Sarah wouldn't tell him for some time, but that right there would be the moment she began to respect and trust him.

"If that's what she wants I'll respect it," she answered. "But I still want those vows."

He blinked, lips twitching upwards again, happily surprised if she was reading him correctly, and then gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"Alright then, we'll do that. Justin, do you mind?"

Mr. Fawley shook his head, appearing to do so more out of bemusement than anything else, but he still stood up and waved his wand to make two extra chairs appear in front of his desk.

(It was going to take some time to get used to the impossible happening before her very eyes, but she hoped that with time it would all become old hat to her. Regardless, she doubted that the wonder would ever completely go away.)

In silence, the group moved over to the desk and took their seats, Gwen stubbornly planting herself in one of the middle chairs before Sarah could steer her to one at the edges.

Once everyone was comfortable and paying attention to him, Mr. Fawley set the folders in his hands onto the desktop and grabbed a quill.

"We will now proceed with the formal claiming of Gwendolyn Dorea Black, daughter of Patriarch Henry Potter-Black, as a member of the House of Potter, Noble and Ancient, and the House of Black, Noble and Most Ancient..."

–o–

Minister's Office, Ministry of Magic, London, England. September 10, 2009.

Harry had already read this article twice at breakfast and four more times since, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the headline.

He wished he could say he was surprised the Prophet's editor had decided this was front page news, as the paper had been getting a lot better with doing actual journalism and keeping their priorities fairly straight (especially when compared to Harry's mid-to-late teens, which admittedly had left him with a negative bias regarding Britain's most popular national newspaper), but really he should've expected this.

Hero worship of him had been settling into more manageable levels since he became Minister, but people still loved to hear all about their heroes and Harry, largely due to his restless work since Voldemort's defeat, hadn't stopped being a hero to most of Magical Britain – actually, going only by polls and the press and general public sentiment, his support base had grown dramatically since that day, as had the interest in his personal life.

He sighed. Well, looking at the bright side, the headline wasn't as full of scandal as it would've been had this happened to any of his predecessors, or even to Harry himself at the beginning of his political career, but... it still had the potential to be a minor scandal, if handled without care. At least the reporter, one Dennis Creevey, had let him know the kneazle was out of the bag even before beginning to think the story, giving Percy ample time and opportunity to work with their fellow Lion to keep it factual and controlled.

(Harry was willing to bet that the main reason the article avoided the scandal favoured by most of the Prophet staff was because, to their unbelievably good fortune, the one to stumble across the forms personally filed by Justin had been Dennis – that man still worshipped him to death, had actually named his first son after him, and likely he hadn't even thought about it before calling Percy from the Ministry Archives the very second he processed the information in his hands.

It had been clumsy of Harry and his team, not to spread the story to trusted reporters themselves in order to properly and fully control the story, but he'd just wanted to keep his newfound little girl to himself for a while longer.

He swore it'd be the last time he let his feelings get the better of his brain.)

Minister's Daughter Surfaces After Gringotts Blood Test!, the front page screamed in a headline he could bet hadn't been Dennis' work. The article went on to explain how a seemingly ordinary muggleborn, upon being introduced to the magical world and going to Gringotts for the first time, had been subjected to a blood test as was mandatory since the Lineage Revival Act 2002 and had been found to be the daughter of the former Chief Warlock and current Minister of Magic, Patriarch Henry Potter-Black, who when informed had decided to claim her and give her his name, though she was not yet in file to inherit either of the families.

This purely factual introduction was followed by Dennis' interview with Harry himself, in which Harry had truthfully stated he'd been surprised by the news but wanted to fulfil his obligations to his daughter, so he would do his best to include her in whatever capacity she and her mother desired. Then, when asked about the issue of inheritance, he'd answered that Gwendolyn wouldn't be formally placed on either family's line of succession for the time being, though he would keep Edward as the primary heir for at least House Black.

After the interview, came a small bit (almost an afterthought) about how the child was also of magical blood on her mother's side, as Sarah Black was the great-granddaughter of Marius Black, the Minister's late squib great-uncle through his paternal grandmother Dorea Potter nee Black.

(In another world, it might've bothered Harry to know that he'd had a child with a second cousin once removed, because in British muggle society the general belief was that, if you knew how closely related you were to someone, then you were far too related to date, let alone have kids with.

For most magical humans, however, the closest accepted relation was six degrees of separation and had been such for decades, since a team of purebloods from around the world studied the exact effects of inbreeding in magical blood and reached the conclusion that anything closer than that was criminally dangerous to the magic in the bloodline. Given that study, relationships right at the edge were mildly frowned upon for cutting it close, but were still acceptable – Orion and Walburga Black, both of whom had been great-grandchildren of Phineas Nigellus Black, came to mind.

Considering his experiences and time in both societies, muggle beliefs in the matter were only intellectually known to him but had never sunk in, so the seven degrees that separated Harry from Sarah failed to bother him.)

The article closed with a statement from the Minister's office, pleading with the public to respect the family's privacy (especially that of the children) and informing the public that anyone who so much as hinted at intention of getting past the security measures set around them would be met with the full weight of the DMLE and the Potter-Black team of lawyers.

There were no pictures of Gwen or Sarah, just an old shot of Harry during the inauguration of the Queen Elizabeth Academy in Cardiff four years ago – he supposed they didn't feel like any of the recent photos were interesting enough to feature next to an article about his newfound daughter, but the first primary school for the magical children of Great Britain was at least marginally relevant, considering that his daughter could still transfer to do her last pre-Hogwarts year at the Academy.

All in all, Harry supposed it was an acceptable article, and he was pleased that Percy (for it could've been no one else) had redacted that final statement. Regardless of how much Ron playfully complained about having to regularly deal with his brother, all three friends had known it a great idea to have Percy Weasley as Harry's head of staff – he was a brilliant administrator, a loyal second-in-command and an expert in the inner workings of law and government. It was the entire reason Harry had decided to have him in that position since his Wizengamot days, despite several people subtly and not-so-subtly expressing their discomfort with him having a former Fudge administrator lead his own staff.

From the moment Harry first approached Percy for help navigating the world of politics, the third Weasley brother had known people would bring up his past – but he'd also seen how Harry refused to budge and placed more and more trust in him as time passed. This trust, paired with Harry's interest in bettering their society, had seen Percy wholly give his loyalty to Harry, practically adopting him as another little brother and becoming extremely protective of him. With Percy being raised to be very family-oriented, he'd also extended this sentiment to Teddy and, clearly, had done the same to Gwen and Sarah.

Harry knew that Percy wouldn't hesitate to get in the way of a killing curse for him and, much as it still made him uncomfortable to be given that much trust and loyalty, part of him was glad to have Percy in his corner.

There was a knock on the door, prompting Harry to set the newspaper down for what felt like the twentieth time in the short hour he'd been in the Ministry, and the man himself opened it almost the second Harry answered.

"Minister, there's someone from Downing Street here to see you" Percy announced, the formal address letting him know that the visitor wasn't one of the few members of that staff they were halfway comfortable with.

Harry leaned back on his armchair, mentally breathing a sigh of relief at the distraction. As the staff of Downing Street had only come by unannounced when there was a particularly delicate matter to discuss during the previous Prime Minister's term, Harry could be moderately certain that whatever this was about would keep him occupied enough to relegate any further thought on his own family matters at the very least until dinner. At least, no visit by Downing staff was half as unpleasant as the budget meetings.

"Thank you, Percy, send them in."

The Senior Undersecretary pulled the door fully open and stepped aside, allowing a familiar man to enter the office with Percy and two other men on his heels. Harry stood at the sight of his visitor, walking around the desk to greet him with a firm handshake.

"Prime Minister Black. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Andras Black, the still brand-new Prime Minister of the United Kingdom with only seven weeks of term under his belt, returned the handshake. They'd only met once, when the man first settled into office and Harry arrived at Downing to explain the intricacies of their hidden society, but by the way his lips twitched and eyes lit up he still found the coincidence of their matching last names deeply amusing.

"Minister Potter-Black. I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but this isn't actually related to work."

"Oh?"

The older man nodded and lowered his head to look at Harry over the rim of his glasses, giving Harry the vague feeling that he should be uncomfortable. "Indeed, Minister. May we speak privately?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, flicking his eyes at Percy and ignoring the way the security people grumbled in half-hearted protest. Percy nodded once – the security checks at his desk discarded any threat to Harry, so there was nothing to worry about.

"Of course. Would you like some tea?"

Harry invited his muggle counterpart to take a seat on the armchairs by the fireplace and called a house elf to request service, all the while Percy left the office with two grumbling bodyguards.

(He was reasonably sure the only reason they did leave was because they were both wizards, and therefore not untrusting of their world's national hero. While this was of no concern right now, he still made a mental note to have the DMLE instruct the Aurors assigned to the Prime Minister's security detail to be more cautious in the future.)

"Excuse my confusion, Prime Minister, but I wasn't aware there would be many urgent issues not related to our work that would bring you to my office."

Black stared at him. "Indeed? I suppose I shall explain myself, then. You see, some days ago, my daughter came home with the most curious of news – she'd found her daughter's father. Although it would, perhaps, be more accurate to say he found them."

Harry was young, but he wasn't stupid – he couldn't be, not when taking an absolute mess of a country and dragging it back to international prominence in under a decade took more than just political clout. He wasn't brilliant either, but he was still smart enough to understand what the other minister was not-so-subtly saying.

Forget dinner, he wouldn't be able to do anything but think about his current family issues for at least the rest of the day, which was only natural considering who exactly was Andras Black related to.

Merlin, this could only be the famous Potter luck striking again – his daughter was also the granddaughter of Sir Andras Black, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

Harry could already bet someone up there was laughing at him.

–o–

"Sarah is your daughter."

Andras eyed the open posture of his magical counterpart and failed to catch any hint of surprise. He could see now that he'd underestimated the young man – it took a certain amount of self-control to appear unaffected in the face of such a reveal.

"Which makes me Gwen's grandfather, yes. I'm curious, though – didn't your people run a background check on Sarah?"

Henry Potter-Black smiled. A loaded tray appeared on the small table that sat framed by the armchairs, delaying his answer as the Minister of Magic settled into the motions of serving the tea – he could see an easy familiarity in his movements, though he also noticed they were different from those used on Andras' side of the fence. Still, it looked almost regal, and Andras couldn't find any hints of discomfort in the wizard, even with Andras' eyes on him.

Just a few minutes later, the Ministers sat back with their respective cups of tea in hand.

"My people did run a background check on Sarah" the wizard admitted. "Normally they write up a report and inform me of whatever important things crop up, allowing me and my Undersecretary to read the details later when we have some time to spare. However, this month has been particularly busy, so we haven't had the time to read the reports yet, and my security team assured us nothing particularly important came up during their check."

Andras felt his eyebrows furrow almost against his will. "Your people didn't think it important that your daughter is the Prime Minister's granddaughter?"

Potter-Black's smile changed, looking almost exasperated now. "Not to my safety, no. They don't care for politics even on our side, particularly when usually my Undersecretary will know more about that than they will even with a background check. Furthermore, they find the nonmagical side of things irrelevant so long as it doesn't cross onto ours – really, it's taken the magical-raised amongst us some time to get used to the idea that a nonmagical can present a threat to a magical. Given those two things, Gwen would've needed to be related to someone with a royal title for them to think it important enough to mention it in a verbal report."

Andras stared for a long moment, unable to decide if he wanted or needed to understand the thought process of a magical-raised wizard. "That doesn't sound like a wise choice from a security team, particularly one tasked with protecting the highest authority of an entire country."

"Can't say I disagree, Prime Minister."

"Please, call me Andras. If you truly wish to be a part of Gwen's life, I believe you are as good as family."

"Then I insist you call me Harry."

"Very well. What are your intentions with my family, Harry?"

The wizard didn't bat an eye, either at the demand or the sudden change in posture. Andras felt his regard of the wizard raise several notches, feeling that the comments of his magical staff hadn't done this man justice – Potter-Black was not only not easily intimidated but seemingly unflappable, and obviously he hadn't just gotten this far at his age due to being an unusually charismatic war hero.

"It isn't my intention to take Gwen away from your family, if that is what concerns you. I merely wish to fulfil my responsibilities as her father and Patriarch to whatever extent she and Sarah will allow me to."

"And what do those responsibilities entail, in your world?"

"Well, firstly there's the monetary issues – my family is extremely rich, so there are certain things that, culturally, I'm expected to do for children of my House. That's why I have already opened a trust vault for her on Gringotts, with enough money to buy all her Hogwarts supplies for all seven years four times over. Additionally, I've paid her tuition for all seven years and included her in my will – even if she doesn't inherit a title, she'll have more than enough to not need to work a day and still live comfortably for a few lifetimes."

"I hope money isn't the only thing expected here."

Harry frowned at Andras, who was surprised to see he actually looked offended. "Of course not – she also has access to our influence and knowledge, and she'll have the backing of the House in whatever she decides to do when she graduates Hogwarts. Her access and the support she'll get are a bit limited, since she is only ten years old and not legitimised yet, but that can change after I get to know her. I also offered her tuition, to make sure she gets to school as prepared as possible, both academically and socially.

"Given my place in our society, her safety is also a concern, so I've taken the liberty of commissioning Gringotts to ward your home – before you ask, I didn't know where it is, as they got the location directly from Sarah and are bound to secrecy. As I'm the current Minister, there's Aurors protecting them at all times, though I've also assigned an additional, private guard to both of them, every member highly qualified and fully trusted. Should the security teams fail, I have procured them protection amulets, some healing items and a way to safely leave a dangerous situation – if something happens, they can reach Black Manor quickly, and they would be met there by trusted healers."

"And the manor is safe?"

"Perhaps the safest place on the islands. No one in living memory has breached its protections, something no other place can boast."

"What about the Ministry, the bank and the school?"

The Minister snorted. "Pardon my reaction, but this building and the school were both breached by Death Eaters twice during the war, just over a decade ago. Each. At least. Additionally, my friends and I breached the Ministry twice, the bank once and the school once during the war. Their wards and security measures have been tightened since, but I hope you'll understand if I reserve judgement on their exact quality until they've gone another twenty or so years with no security breaches."

It took a considerable effort for Andras to keep himself from frowning. It was reassuring that he couldn't see anything in the man that led him to believe his daughter's impression of him was mistaken, and that indeed he seemed even more concerned than she'd said... but at the same time...

"I wish to get to know them" the wizard added. Andras decided to bring up his own concerns later, when they were past Harry's intentions with their shared family. "I'll be the first to admit I'm extremely busy, and given that my son started school this year I hadn't seen a reason to not take on a bit more work than I used to, but I talked to Sarah and starting January I'll make sure to have time for visits as regular as they wish."

Harry leaned forward to refill their cups. As he was moving slightly slower than the first time, Andras felt maybe he also was taking a moment to gather his thoughts – not that he could blame the man, he'd been acting remarkably composed the entire time.

"I know you have no reason to believe what I say," he finally said, "but please trust that I have absolutely no intention of disrupting their lives. If they wish me to step aside and leave them alone, then I will do that, though I will still make sure they are safe and well provided."

Andras was surprised by a brief stab of sadness that struck him at the words. There was nothing in the young man sitting across from him that hinted at him being untruthful, so he decided to believe he was being honest. The Minister was willing and maybe even eager to be Gwen's father, which was understandable if even half of what he'd heard about him from the magical citizens on his staff was true – orphaned, no close blood relatives who wanted him, surrounded by a family of choice forged by war.

Still... there was a small, nagging doubt. He didn't believe it applied here, not after what he'd seen, but he'd still been told that the preservation of a family name was of paramount importance to the magical society (it was possibly the reason for the law that got Gwen the blood test, and maybe also why she'd been offered her father's name), and if so... how against outside influence on his daughter would he be?

"What would you do if Sarah entered a serious relationship with anyone?"

Harry tapped his fingers against his cup and sighed. "In principle," he began slowly, as if he hadn't thought of that before, "it shouldn't change anything. However, I am the head of one of Magical Britain's oldest families, and the other is just as tied as that one to my work, so I must be very careful of inheritance if I want my legacy to survive me long enough to become ingrained. The reason Edward is already noted down as heir is because I was careful with his upbringing and so I can be reasonably sure he won't spit on my legacy... but I only recently even learnt of Gwen, so I don't know her character yet, and until I do I can't consider legitimizing her. A stranger's influence might make that more... difficult to determine."

"Edward is your adopted son, correct?" Andras asked, thinking back to the firm reassurances by his wizard bodyguards that the Minister of Magic was decidedly a family man and that his boy was by all accounts being raised right.

"Yes, he is. His parents named me his godfather, probably because they figured I was stubborn enough to survive the war," he explained, with no small amount of humour in his voice. "He went to his grandmother first, but after she died he came into my care. I adopted him when he was four."

"And what would you do, if there was a conflict between them?"

"I hope they won't have serious problems, but, if they do, I'll do my best to stay out of it."

"But what if it was necessary to take a side?"

"Then I would acquire as much information as possible, analyse the situation and try to mediate so that their issue will cease. Give me some credit, Andras, I didn't get so far at my age by playing favourites."

That was reasonable, and honestly more than Andras could've hoped for given the man had raised the boy since infancy and had only just met Gwen, so he decided to take it. He drank some more tea, satisfied that the Minister wouldn't intentionally treat his daughter unfairly (if he ever did at all), and went on to the next topic of interest.

"About you and Sarah..."

Harry shook his head, smiling as Andras trailed off. "She's just the mother of my daughter. Obviously I find her attractive, or we wouldn't be having this conversation, but I don't expect anything from her."

"Doesn't it bother you, that you're not married to the mother of someone who could be your heir?"

"Actually, our society isn't as rigid when it comes to that matter – magical blood is precious enough a child born out of wedlock has the same rights and privileges as one born within, so long as the child is legitimized, especially when the family as been as reduced as mine. People will be glad enough there's one more person to carry on my names to care about the specifics of her parentage."

"Are you saying you claimed Gwen to continue your family line?"

That earned Andras a frown. "Had that been my intention, I would've legitimized her, filed for custody and continued to raise her in my household. I'm sure Sarah might have mentioned how easily I could take her away from your family if I was inclined to.

"What I did was claim her," he continued, ignoring Andras' own frown as he remembered that yes, his daughter had mentioned Gwen's father commenting on it, "which was, frankly, already above what was socially and legally expected of me before I conceded her more rights than her status carries. Essentially, I made it possible that even without a will she'll inherit most of what the families have if there are no legitimate heirs. She does have my name, but make no mistake, she cannot continue my family line."

"There are things only a legitimate child can inherit?"

"Headship and title, for starters – a claimed child has no right to inherit those, will or no will, so those always go to the next closest legitimate relative. The Head of the House of Black also holds the title of Earl or Countess Glamorgan, and if I died without legitimate descendants they would go to my cousin Draco Malfoy, Earl Avebury, although she would get part of the money and property."

Andras decided he seriously needed to take a look at the inheritance laws. This sounded more complicated than he'd thought it would be, so more information would be needed to understand the exact position Gwen was in when it came to her father and magical society.

At least, this was confirmation that the man was not interested in Gwen simply as means to continue his family line.

"Besides," the Minister added, "if I was truly concerned about the continuity of my bloodline, I would have already blood adopted Teddy or found a woman willing to give me a few legitimate children – it's not like either option would be hard. If you're thinking about my legacy, I have already raised him to trust he'll honour it once he takes over, and he doesn't need to be my heir by blood for me to be confident in that."

Andras spent a few moments staring at the young man sitting across from him with pure disbelief, finding it hard to understand how a wizard could be so careless about his bloodline continuing – he'd heard enough to understand that Henry Potter-Black was an oddity in his side of society if only because of this opinion, even if the non-magical people would tend to agree with him.

"So Gwen..."

Potter shrugged once again. "I offered to meet them last Sunday because I felt that she had a right to know about her biological father if she so wished. I explained my circumstances to her so she could make an informed decision about me, and only claimed her as my daughter and gave her my name when she understood what it all meant. The only thing I ever asked of her was to not acquire a criminal record and to be careful with the money I have and will continue to give her, and I don't think that's too much to ask."

"You don't expect anything else from her?"

"Me? No, I just hope she'll grow up to be a decent member of society and will support her in whatever career she chooses – provided she doesn't act against my work. Society, however, will expect greatness from her, even if they won't hold her to the same standards as my son. She is, after all, my daughter, even if she isn't legitimate yet."

Right, child celebrity turned war hero turned unstoppable progressive politician. If his adopted son was as well-adjusted as his magical staff had hinted, then it was remarkable he'd managed while being raised by this man. Hopefully, magical society wouldn't expect as much of Gwen as his own side did, at least so long as she was illegitimate.

"My staff has explained some of your work to me," he said, instead of voicing those concerns. "Would you mind telling me what you are trying to accomplish?"

All of a sudden, Harry seemed to gain several years to his unusually youthful visage, looking not even his age but well past it – that was a look Andras knew very well, that of a war veteran. The fact that this young man was a handful of months younger than Sarah served as a harsh reminder that he'd been, essentially, a child soldier.

"That needs a rather lengthy history lesson," he answered, leaning forward to place his empty cup on the table. "It doesn't go too far back but the background is a bit complicated and very important to understand."

Andras looked at him, guarded and tired but still willing to explain what he was reasonably sure was the war he'd fought in (lost loved ones in), and wondered if he couldn't just remain with what little his magical staff had told him about it.

But what he'd been told didn't exactly explain why this man was so determined to overhaul an entire system that had dominated a society exactly the same way it'd been for a couple of centuries, and he did need to know that to get some idea of what this society would expect from his granddaughter – even if, the way it'd been explained, she wouldn't be under quite so many expectations given she wasn't legitimate.

He sighed. There really wasn't a question, was there, between saving this man from wartime memories and knowing what his granddaughter would face?

So he accepted the impromptu history lesson about a recent war from a man who'd fought in it as a boy, and the Minister of Magic proceeded to explain the so-called Voldemort Wars to him – not only in greater detail than the wizards of his security staff had gone into, but also going beyond the actions into the psychological and social effects the two-part conflict had caused during and after the fighting.

He talked about how, during the worst years of the first war, thousands of people died in the British Isles as a result of the guerrilla warfare engaged by the Dark Lord's followers, about how the second war wasn't quite so severe in terms of body counts only because more than half of their population had died during the first – losses that their society still hadn't recovered from and likely wouldn't for maybe another decade.

He talked about how fear, suspicion and paranoia had run rampant, casting a pervasive darkness that covered society until long after Voldemort was finally truly gone in 1998, that still sometimes seemed to cast a shadow. How there was no solid concept of trust, how no place was completely safe, how several went underground and many more died trying to leave the country. How they still weren't absolutely sure about the exact number of casualties, because thousands of people had vanished during the wars without any proof about their fates ever turning up – entire families, gone.

He talked about how their little corner of society never received any help, either from the muggle government or other magical communities, forcing them to deal with it alone regardless of the fact that Voldemort was going to expand his war, if he succeeded in fully taking over the magical side.

Almost clinically, with the tone of someone who needs to take distance to avoid breaking under the pressure, he explained how, by the time Voldemort died, the most affected part of society was that comprised of teens and preteens – particularly everyone who attended or should've attended Hogwarts between the 1995-1996 and 1997-1998 terms.

The Ministry and the castle had been covertly taken by the Dark Lord's forces by September 1997, making attendance mandatory for everyone who hadn't yet passed their NEWTs. The takeover was kept as much of a secret as possible, and when the school year rolled around most students showed up without suspecting anything amiss – dozens of muggleborns vanished from the platform that first day of September, and while some had survived or been confirmed dead there were many more whose fate was still unknown. That year, the lapdogs in the castle had their fun with their students – torture and rape where widely practiced by the Death Eaters stationed at Hogwarts, both in class and as part of detentions and just for the hell of it, while the students who supported the new regime were allowed to do as they pleased. In fact, students in general were encouraged to torture others, and any who refused to follow any orders (not just about harming their peers) were forced to retreat to a secret room inside the castle.

The war came to a head with the Battle of Hogwarts, where most of the fighters were students – children who'd spent the whole year in what amounted to a combination between Dark Arts school and torture chamber. More than a hundred children were lost during that year, with over half alone falling in those last eight or so hours between Voldemort's arrival late in May 1st and his death at dawn on the 2nd.

A society that had reached a peak of half a million humans in the early seventies, by the first post-war census in the late summer of 1998 that side of the population didn't surpass fifty thousand. It was one of the biggest genocides in magical history, surpassed in numbers only by the genocide of the magical indigenous peoples in the Americas and in magnitude by the one against African peoples.

And all of it, Harry concluded with unending bitterness, had been helped along by government-sanctioned bigotry and rampant corruption.

Andras couldn't pretend he didn't see where the story had been going, couldn't ignore all the little signs and tells that were leading to the uncomfortable truth – that not even magical societies were exempt from corrupt governments acting against the best interests of the population.

But Harry was trying to change that, if his impassioned speech was to be believed. Andras doubted the goal was perfection, because what he'd heard and seen so far led him to believe that the Minister of Magic was grounded enough to set himself reasonable objectives, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do his best to create as good a government as he possibly could – all in order to avoid the uprising of another terrorist organization in the heart of their society.

That was a respectable goal and a good reason to place reasonable expectations on children who would inevitably be in the public eye as many tried to find an excuse to attack the character of the man who had raised one and fathered the other. With their society being so small, the attention would probably be as intense as that received by the British Royal Family, so both children would need to act accordingly, regardless of society expecting less of Gwen than they did of Edward.

The Prime Minister leaned back and smiled at his magical colleague. He would need to meet young Edward to be completely sure, but with what he'd learnt just in the past hour he thought that Henry Potter-Black was a man he could grow to respect.

–o–

10 Downing Street, London, England. May 28, 2010.

Andras had been dreading this for a week.

This being a reporter, here for a press conference his office had called to clarify their stance on the newest international conflict (which for once did not involve their country), asking about a different matter entirely – one not even tangentially related to their nation's diplomacy.

Because his daughter had been seen two days ago coming out of a high-class restaurant with an unknown man, a gleaming band on her right ring finger.

Andras could feel the widespread irritation towards this sad excuse for a reporter who definitely did not get the memo about the purpose of this conference, but, thankfully, he had expected this to happen and was ready for it.

"I know the picture you refer to," he told the reporter before he could insist, "and yes, that was my daughter Sarah coming out of a restaurant after dinner with her fiancée, Lord Henry Potter-Black, Earl Glamorgan. An official announcement will come soon. Now, let's get back to what brought us here, shall we?"

With that, the next question was called, and from there until the end of the conference no one dared bring it up again.

When it was over, he walked back to his office followed by his staff, and half an hour later he was alone with one of the wizards that had been taking care of his safety ever since he first took the position.

"Are magical reporters so inclined to gossip as well?" he asked.

Zacharias Smith, who had attended school with his future son-in-law and had also fought in the war, snorted from his place beside his desk.

"They used to be worse," he admitted. "You should've seen some issues of the biggest magical newspaper in the country from when I was in school – most reporters were decent in their own terrible way, but... there was one that made everyone's lives impossible to a point no one missed or mourned her. I know for a fact Harry was… chipper when he heard her body had been found."

Andras resolved to ask Harry about that, as it sounded like quite the story. Harry was most certainly not the type of man to ever be glad at anyone's misfortune, even when that someone was an unrepentant psychopathic blood-purist with long lists of confirmed victims, so for him to be in a remarkable good mood when someone was literally found dead was... enough of a sign.

"Well, could you talk to Percy? Harry should know he'll be met by interest from this side of society."

"Sure thing, boss" Zacharias answered, moving over to the fireplace to floo-call the Ministry. It was still something that freaked him out, even after travelling through the network himself three times. "Knowing Weasley, he already has two statements ready to go – one for our kind, and another sanitized for those who don't know about us."

The Undersecretary did have them, as it happened, and promised to talk to Harry about releasing them to their respective publics shortly. Andras had no doubt it would be in time for the evening edition of several newspapers on both societies, and hopefully that would mean he'd only need to have his office release a confirmation if anyone tried to question it.

As he was handed copies of both statements to peruse and approve, he spared a moment to think how he hadn't actually expected to end up here, with his daughter engaged to a man that was simultaneously Gwen's father and a wizard of enormous power – mainly because he'd never expected to find Gwen's father when five years passed without a hint of him. Of course, the fact that he was a wizard and therefore disconnected from this side of society explained that, but he hadn't considered that option when met by the revelation of their hidden world by the same man who weeks later would be revealed to be said father.

Surprising as it was, though, he was glad for his daughter and granddaughter's sakes – Gwen had quickly grown to love her father and decided he was very deserving of magical society's reverence, reasons which had led to her determining that he was as close to a superhero as their world could get and that moulding herself after him was only in her best interests. Andras wouldn't be surprised if she decided to go into politics to continue her father's admirable work and almost pitied anyone who thought to discredit Harry's ideas or opinions within her earshot.

As for Sarah... well, after a few weeks of cautious distance it had only taken three more for her to grow comfortable with Harry, which was marvellous considering they were by then co-parenting an impressionable ten-year-old, and it shocked no one when one day in January she'd come home with Harry to tell the family that after a few outings (which literally no one else had heard about) they'd decided to make their relationship official. Their fast engagement was slightly surprising, he supposed, if one failed to take into account the fact that they interacted very frequently, already had a daughter together and were unquestionably perfect for each other.

Honestly, Andras had almost expected them to just come home one day and announce that they had already gotten married.

Anna, he knew, was already giddy with the thought of more grandchildren to come, especially now that Gwen was soon to go off to boarding school. His wife had been telling him Sarah and Harry would end up getting married since the first time she saw them together, all the way back in November, and the engagement had resulted in her gleeful 'told-you-so' as soon as their daughter and future son-in-law were far enough away to miss the words.

The non-magical statement confirmed the engagement between Lord Henry Potter-Black, Earl Glamorgan, and Miss Sarah Black, daughter of Prime Minister Sir Andras Black, mentioned that Sarah's daughter was biologically the Earl's and said that the date of the wedding would be announced as soon as one was decided. The magical one was much the same, except that it put even more emphasis on Harry and his various titles and talked of Sarah being his daughter's mother, rather than the other way around. He was fully unsurprised by all that, but there were some things that did strike him as odd.

"Protection for Sarah," Zacharias told him when Andras asked about it. "Some folks won't like that Harry is marrying a non-magical instead of one of the nice pureblood girls they've been throwing at him since the war ended, so this is a nice touch of Percy's – see here, 'Miss Black comes from the line of Cygnus IV, Son of Black', it reminds people she's descended from House Black and so strengthens Harry's claim, since he's closest to Patriarch Phineas Nigellus Black and Sarah is one level below, but from a purely male line, see?"

Andras did not, in fact, see – the rules of the Black succession were spotty at best, and that was with several people trying to explain it to him. He decided to just take Zacharias' word for it.

"Now this bit, 'Miss Black's father is Sir Andras Black, who oversees the non-magical population of Great Britain on Her Majesty's behalf', and also – here, 'Minister Potter-Black will continue to oversee the magical population of Great Britain'. These lines remind everyone that she's the daughter of the only person outside the royal family with as much power as Harry, the equivalent of a man marrying the daughter of a business partner, see? It basically says that no matter her blood status or her lack of magic, she was the best choice of partner for a man of his status."

That was... oddly logical.

"And here's the coup – 'the Minister and his betrothed will raise their daughter together in hopes that their union will continue to give fruit', a reminder that Sarah already proved she's fertile enough. I know she's your daughter and all, but those two were together all of one night and she gave him a strong, healthy magical child, which would've been uncertain with any pureblood girl he could marry – most purebloods find it hard to have more than a single healthy magical child, so basically this says that she was a good option to strengthen the Potter and Black lines."

Something which Harry didn't actually care about, Andras knew, but he understood this was more to convince the naysayers that Sarah was a good match for Harry than anything else. Honestly, the way Harry and Sarah looked at each other, Andras figured they could have no more children and they'd be happy – but he also was more than aware that it would be fully unsurprising if they ended up with more.

That was okay. He was looking forward to more grandchildren, and Harry had already proven to be an excellent father.

–o–

Black Manor, Glamorgan, Wales. July 15, 2010.

The magical wedding between Patriarch Henry Potter-Black, Earl Glamorgan, and Miss Sarah Black of House Black was the event of the year. Anyone who was someone was present, alongside several who weren't exactly someone but who, for various reasons, had been considered important enough by the groom to include in this most auspicious day – such as old quidditch teammates and fellow veterans.

They'd gotten married in the non-magical world just five days before, making almost as big a spectacle as they would in the magical side, with even the Prince of Wales in attendance – Harry had met him at a reunion with the Prime Minister and the Queen regarding the state of the magical world (something that had been quite common until the First Voldemort War), and they'd clicked in such a way Harry had decided to invite the man he now considered a friend. The Prince had accepted and as such had been present when the Earl Glamorgan married the Prime Minister's daughter, causing the wedding to be of far greater interest to the public than it otherwise would have, and he was even now in attendance for the magical wedding, protected by bodyguards and amulets.

(Harry would be in attendance at the Prince's wedding as well, the coming November, as part of the groom's party just as Philip had been in his. Sarah found it hilarious that he was such good friends with the future King of England.)

It was a traditional magical wedding, appropriate for the union between a magical Earl and a non-magical lady of his House.

For Harry, however, it didn't much matter how the wedding was, other than for the happiness it would bring his family – he was getting married to Sarah, bonding his soul to hers and promising his life to hers, and that was all that mattered.

Less than a year later, Harry and Sarah would announce their second pregnancy.

Another girl, Sarah would tell a giddy Harry two months later.