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Chapter Text

Healers were well respected in the wizarding community. Harry Potter was well respected in the wizarding community. Harry Potter was not very well respected in the healing community of St. Mungo’s. Most of his colleagues were of the opinion that he waltzed into the Healer Registration Office in the Ministry, flashed his name around, and walked out with a licence. This wasn't true. Well, it was, but Harry would have passed the exams if he had taken them, he had just been running late to a lunch with Hermione and Ron, so had expedited the process. As a result, he was not very well regarded, and so the cases in St. Mungo’s he was saddled with were always ridiculous, tedious, or impossible. Case in point:

"So, basically, you disapparated from one location, but forgot to apparate to another?"

Harry had a lot of experience apparating, and after the war had ended he had even gone out of his way to get a licence so he could do it legally, good on him, if he says so himself. That being said, he had not a single clue how one managed to forget one half of the spell. Even mechanically, he just didn't understand it. He had thought that you couldn't even disapparate unless you had a location in mind, but the- err… man(?) standing(?) before him was a testament to his lack of knowledge. This was a miracle, both that his patient had managed to essentially break the spell, and that he had survived it.

A miracle, but one that Harry was tasked with fixing.

"Alright then, Mr. Magopy, tell me everything."

---

Mr. Magopy, first name Geginalus (poor sod), although he didn't like to be referred to as such (no surprise there, really), had decided to visit his friend for some Summer Sunday Tea (Harry could hear the capitalisation in the phrase). He had been visiting this friend ("Corrdas Charripy, you must know of him. He used to be a raker in England's fodgumbling team?" Harry had nodded along politely and ignored that the only part of that he had understood was that he didn't care.) every day for years and no longer even thought about the process. Mr. Magopy was very adamant that Summer Sunday Tea could be taken any day of the week, any time of year, and Harry didn’t care enough to argue. Going from his porch to the little hidden nook in Corridas' garden hedge was more natural than breathing, which is apparently a very bad thing for apparition success. Harry would have to send a report about that to the ministry, get them to write out a few PSAs. More work, goodie. Anyways, Mr. Magopy had found himself disapparated but not apparated, stuck in the middle between the two. He described it as feeling like being a frog in a pebble-bottomed pond. Harry got the impression he had intended to send a meaningful look at that statement, but unfortunately, dissappparation without its counterpart seemed to leave you with no physical body to send meaningful looks after indecipherable fucking metaphores.

Mr. Magopy was capable of speech in this form, however he could not be seen or touch anything, having no form (corporeal or incorporeal) to do either. When Harry asked how he could speak, Mr. Magopy had just stated that talking was just pushing air around, and that you didn't need a body for that. Mr. Magopy had made noises of audible confusion at words such as "larynx", "oesophagus", and "lungs". Fucking wizards and their ridiculous educational priorities. Mr. Magopy had claimed to be unable to influence the world in any other ways.

---

This was just about all the useful information that Harry got out of Mr. Magopy before he had started criticising Harry on his decorating choices. Harry had not, in fact, decorated this room. It was just a standard consultation room in St Mungo's. The entire room had once been white, very reminiscent of death's domain, Harry had thought, wishing for some redecoration. He had eaten his words when St. Mungo's had a building-wide revamp. They had allowed Hogwarts's new Not Defence Against the Dark Arts class (a rather redundant name, Harry thought, but apparently students had gotten confused when it was just called Art) to brighten the place up. It was all very avant garde, with splatter paint on the walls, long, large wavy steaks painted into the floor, and a popcorn ceiling. All of this had been done using red paint, which Harry had protested, until he was given such a long lecture on colour theory during which, to keep himself entertained, he had started imagining what he would have to do to NDADA students to create those splatter patterns on the walls.

Mr. Magopy's problem was that the red and white were too bright. He had suggested replacing the red with the more natural, neutral, colour of brown. Harry did not respond to this.

Harry had asked that Mr. Magopy meet with him sometime next week, to give Harry some time to come up with a solution. This was an unprecedented case, after all... Or was it?

---

Yes it was.

Over the next week, Harry had consulted every book even tangentially related to apparition that he could find in every library he had access to. On that point, the library in Grimmauld Place had ended up being incredibly useful since Harry had moved in there. Most of the books there were incredibly dangerous, and dealt with topics so dark they would wither a fresh rose, but knowing how dark magiks worked had helped Harry in his job as a healer immensely. It had gained him a bit of an odd reputation... nevermind that. Unfortunately, even Grimmauld's library had nothing that could help Harry.

He had then called up some specialists in both magic related injuries and apparition itself. He had learned a lot about apparition, from that it was a spell older than the use of incantations, to the fact that it was actually a lot more complicated than was let on. Apparently, you cannot learn the spell unless you had experienced apparition before, to give your magic the impression of it beforehand, magic is all about belief and impressions, he was told. Turns out your magic is doing a lot more than just taking you to another place instantaneously. There was originally a time delay, where you were physically no longer in your old location, while not yet being in your new one. The spell was tweaked until you were located at both your old and new locations simultaneously, as apparition occurred. This was accomplished by a form of time travel, which was apparently easier to accomplish than just going from one place to another immediately without time travel. As a result, each time you aparated your body would age itself backwards a little bit, in the time before the rest of you arrived. Harry had found all of this very interesting, but unfortunately none of it helped his predicament. Also, none of the experts had even heard of Mr. Magopy's problem before, or could offer a solution, except for one Albanian monk.

He had lived in the wild, away from all civilization for over 150 years, as he had found out that Apparating left you approximately 3 seconds younger every time you did it, and so, theoretically you could become younger if you apparated more than once every 3 seconds. He had had to move away from all other human beings as a result of this practice, as the noise was unbearable. It did leave him as an undeniable expert in the practice. When Harry had asked why he had wanted to be younger, he replied that he wanted to talk to Merlin himself. He seemed unaware that while he was getting younger time was continuing normally around him. Perhaps too much apparition would addle your mind? Harry should write that up, too. Ugh, work.

His "solution" of casting an "Accio Mr. Magopy's body" had been just as useless as the man himself had proven to be. Bloody typical.

With all of that time wasted, Harry had suggested meeting Mr. Magopy at a location outside of the hospital. He told Mr. Magopy it was so both of them could meet in a more comfortable atmosphere. Secretly, Harry wanted to see if he could find out more about Mr. Magopy's condition, seeing how he normally behaved. Even more secretly, Harry just didn't want to hear more about Mr. Magopy's shit-wall suggestion.

---

Mr. Magopy had wanted to meet at his friend's house. He was of the impression that being unwell meant others were to care for you, so he had decided to stay with a friend until he got better. This was not taking into account that being incorporeal meant there was little to take care of. This fact didn’t stop Mr Magopy. There were, apparently, few facts which would stop Mr. Magopy. His friend was named Corrdas Charripy or as Mr. Magopy called him, Doug.

"There's actually a very interesting story behind that. It all started in 1975..."

What followed was the least interesting story Harry had ever heard.

Harry began looking around the room he found himself in. Corrdas Charripy had clearly enjoyed the style in the 70's, and all his furniture had those flowery patterns popular at the time. It was, however, undeniable that the sofas were comfortable. Harry squished himself further down, practically just a face among floral patterned cushions. The floors were carpeted, the curtains were lace, and the coffee table they were all sitting around looked to be held together not by sturdiness or willpower, but just by the fact that falling apart would be a change to the status quo, and it looked like a grumpy old git. Great, Harry was so bored he was personifying the furniture.

Mr. Magopy cleared his (non-existent, damnit) throat. Oh, he had ended his story, and Harry had not been paying attention. The room grew tense. Mr. Magopy, it appeared, did not like to be ignored. Corrdas Charripy sensed this and broke the tension with a "So, Healer Potter, what brought you to be a healer?" in a cool, gentle voice. He really could make it as a radio host for a wizarding classic music channel, and he had the looks to match (take from that what you will). Good thing too, as this was his exact profession.

But ah, the age old (a few years really) question.

"Well, I thought I would be an Auror after the final battle..."

After the final battle, everybody still alive retreated to the castle, and began to heal the injured.. Harry knew he would be no use healing anybody; he had never really learned how to make injuries go away. Instead he went out to the grounds and kept an eye out for any lingering threats. Instead all he found were the dead and the Death Eaters, who were not seen fit to be brought inside. They were stunned, petrified, and dealing with hexes so nasty Harry couldn't even identify them. Harry's side of the war was less likely to use life threatening curses but he was sure that out here everybody was suffering just as much as those being treated by healers. Harry did what he could: de-jinxing those he came across and petrifying them before moving along. The Aurors could deal with them later.

This had been going well until Harry had spotted Lupin. Lupin was lying on the ground, half covered in rubble, his blood mixing with the stone dust. Most concerning of all was that he was alive. Harry rushed over, forgetting to petrify the Death Eater he had just freed from the shackles of a hex (it was a powerful one, maybe even Ginny's work). Harry moved the rubble off of his old professor with a wordless snap of his wand. The elder wand was powerful, and with each use Harry could feel his desire to keep the wand burrow deeper under his skin, like a splinter. Lupin choked and gasped as the stone was removed. He wheezed out "Thank you, Harry, I can at least die peacefully now" when he was finally free.

"You will not be dying!" Harry demaded, desperate. He could feel the elder wand thrum, excited to be doing some more intense magic. Harry brought himself back in check, "Tell me what's wrong, and why you weren’t brought into the castle."

Lupin's breathing was incredibly laboured, but he did his best to sigh disapprovingly, "Harry, you can't save everybody, I can feel my life draining away. Don't tear yourself up with guilt that you couldn't-"

"Remus Lupin, I will tear myself apart with guilt whether you like it or not, I would have torn myself apart even if you had died before I got here. So. Tell me what I want to know so I can help."

Lupin got that look on his face like he was about to compare Harry to one of his parents, but thankfully he conceded, "Alright then Harry, but I'm not dying of magical means, so there's nothing you can counter. A healer had seen me earlier, but recognised me as a werewolf, so she hadn't brought me inside the castle."

Harry swore several things: that he would save Lupin, that he would take revenge on that healer, that the wizarding world would change its view on werewolves, and also several sundry swear words. One thing at a time.

Harry had a lot more experience with non-magical injuries than its counterpart. Dursleys. No more explanation necessary. As such he knew to not move Lupin too much, and to check where the damage was its worst. Harry found that Lupin had been stuck through like a butterfly by what looked like a spear from one of the suits of armour around the castle. That hadn't quite happened at the dursleys. It had certainly nicked a lung, and there was a trail of blood falling out of the side of Lupin's mouth, very dramatic of him. The trail was getting thicker by the second.

Harry knew absolutely nothing that could help, and the Healers in the castle were far away enough that they wouldn't make it in time. It was a lost cause. Harry didn't believe in those.

He searched about the area for something that could help, and only found a Death Eater in worse condition than Lupin, a hopeless case. It gave him an idea. A dark idea.

While they were trying to find ways of removing souls from horcruxes, Hermione had stumbled upon a promising spell. It transferred "life-force" from one to another. Hermione thought they could transfer ole voldy's soul into a more easily destroyed receptacle. It hasn't worked. Turns out life force and soul were seperate things. It had, however, been found in a book of dark healing arts.

Harry moved over to the Death Eater, keen to convince him to let his life force be taken, as a last act of goodness. Harry would have him honoured after his death, as that was just about the only thing you could promise a dying man. The Death Eater readily agreed, which was good even though Harry would have gone ahead with or without his consent. Saving Lupin was a more important cause than morality.

The spell was quick and easy to cast, and Harry knew that this was thanks to the elder wand. It wanted to be used for powerful spells, and guided Harry along the process, thrumming to the point of vibration when he was on the right track. Sigils painted in blood were macabre, but what was necessary was necessary.

Lupin was no longer able to speak, by the end, and Harry was lucky that the sacrifice had not died on his own before he could be killed. When the spell was cast, Lupin shot upwards, skin temporarily glowing a blood red. He looked younger than he had in all the time Harry had seen him, aged beyond his years no more, certainly not young, but he finally looked like somebody who hadn't hit 40 yet. His face (and presumably the rest of him, Harry wasn’t going to check) was no longer scarred, either. Harry would have had to do a double take to recognise him. And many people did, as they entered the Great Hall. Harry had spun a tale about love for his only father figure left, and how that had powered his magic. Molly had burst back into a fresh round of tears, hugging Harry close. Lupin assured him with a glance that his secret would be kept.

Harry had felt better saving Moony than defeating Oldyvort. He glanced from the healers saving lives to the aurors who were incarcerating the remaining Death Eaters. He changed his mind on his career path.

Harry had later gone out to find his sacrifice, to wash off the sigils, and identify the body so he could memorialise his bravery.

He found that metamorphmagy did not last after death.

Harry knew he wouldn't be telling Remus about this. Another secret to the pile. He moved Tonks into some sunlight, so the crew collecting the bodies would be able to break the news to Lupin, who Harry knew was up in the castle searching for her at that very moment.

And he continued to uncurse the death eaters.

"...but then I changed my mind, too much paperwork in the Aurors office."

Corrdas had clearly expected a more thrilling tale. Harry was always happy to disappoint.

Harry continued: "Well, enough about me, we are here to talk about Mr. Magopy. have your symptoms changed any?"

Mr. Magopy, who Harry had just been hoping was still in the room, replied in the negative, "Unfortunately, there have been no changes to my condition. I am still a living apparition, capable of nothing but speech. Even the most basic of spells are out of my grasp. I am utterly useless in this condition. I trust that you would have told us if you had found a solution to my problem?"

Harry responded, saying "Well, I actually have several leads, but none of them have fully panned out yet. Actually, Corrdas, could you get me a glass of water, my throat is parched," Corrdas left. "And Mr. Magopy, could you hold this file for only a moment," Harry set the file in the air where Mr. Magopy's voice was emanating from. It stayed in place. Theory confirmed, then. "Yes thank you, I just needed to have a spare hand to wipe my glasses"

Harry knew that most of magic was belief, but it was always strange to see it in action. If you believed you could do something, then more often than not, you were able to. And for a moment there, Mr. Magopy had not thought he couldn't hold the file, a double negative, but a necessary one. Now Harry just had to find a way to fix this issue armed with this knowledge. "Could you tell me where you had intended to apparate to?"

"Oh, just out in the garden, there's a sheltered alcove at the end, surrounded by hedges. I have been asking Doug to trim them for years, but he is always saying he hates yard work. I can't very well do it myself, you see, last time I tried it I cut a hole clean through to the other side. Mrs. Mendler still hasn't forgiven me for accidentally seeing her with her top off sunbathing. Who on earth sunbathes in England? She's a right old-"

"Yes I'm sure, Mr. Magopy, but I must go now, dreadfully sorry. I'll see you in a couple days!"

Harry had already left the room when Mr. Magopy called out that he had only been there a few minutes.

Exiting the house, Harry moved down through the garden. It was very overgrown. Better for wildlife that way, although Harry assumed that was not the reason. Harry quickly spotted the Hedge Mr. Magopy had pointed him towards, and just as quickly spotted Mr. Magopy inside. Harry had dealt with many dead bodies from the war and from his current career, but usually he dealt with fresh ones. Mr. Magopy was not fresh. If Harry were to hazard a guess, he would say Mr. Magopy had been there approximately since two Sundays past. Wow, what excellent body reading skills Harry has. Mr. Magopy had apparated into a branch, straight into his brain. His body would have died before he could even pass from one place to the next, leaving his soul and his magic back in his apartment untethered. Harry could rest easy, having solved the mystery. Unless...

---

Harry cursed everything in existence and everything that would ever exist as he dragged a rotting corpse into Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was watching him from the end of the hall, not bothering to hide that he was watching, and most certainly not bothering to help. Kreacher was very good at doing exactly what he needed to and nothing more. Ron did that too, as much as both of them would hate the comparison. Ron did it out of, bless his soul, laziness, while Kreacher did it out of spite. That house elf liked nothing more than doing exactly what you asked him to, but only in such a way as to irritate you. Harry liked that about him.

He didn't like that about him at that exact moment in time, however. "Kreacher, can you help me?"

"Yes, Mistress Harry, there's an offshoot up the library on the third floor where the body can be kept. I'll go open it for you," And with that he was gone.

See? Did exactly what Harry asked without doing what he meant. Kreacher could have snapped his fingers and transported the body up into the room he had described, but instead Harry had to go up 4 flights of stairs to get there. Harry knew he could just call Kreacher down and make him take the body upstairs, but in all honesty, Harry wanted to let Kreacher have his fun, Merlin knows he hadn't gotten that opportunity with the Blacks in residence.

Oh, and the "Mistress Harry" thing; well, Harry had asked Kreacher to stop calling him "Master Harry", and the rest is easily deduced.

Four whole flights of stairs later, and Harry made it to the library. Ducking around, he found the offshoot Kreacher had spoken of. It was just as dark and dingy as the rest of the house, but it was definitely somewhere he had never been before. If you had shown Harry a picture of it, he would have bet it was a basement, with stone walls, floors, and ceiling and no windows in sight. If it weren't for magic Harry was sure that the whole house underneath would have buckled from the weight. He would have to ask Kreacher to show him how to get in there. He deposited Mr. Magopy's body inside. There was a raised altar in the middle of the room which was human sized, and this fit his needs nicely. Harry was not going to think about the raised dias, and he was most certainly not going to think about the colour the altar was stained.

Harry set about neatening Mr. Magopy up. He cast scourgifys and reparos until the body and clothes were semi presentable, ignoring the rotting. He also dealt with any pests that had made their home there. Easy. Harry exited towards the library, looking for any books that might help him do what he wanted to do. He found one fairly handily. He wanted to practise before he did it on the real body though, so he called Kreacher and asked for "A dead mouse, preferably one that has been dead for between 2 to 3 weeks," and Kreacher complied, dropping the mouse on top of Harry's head as he did so. Harry, not put off in the slightest, cast his cleaning and pest killing spells, also not thinking about how Kreacher had had what he wanted on hand. Harry was an excellent multitasker in that regard. He could do any two things in the world at once, provided one thing was something he knew how to do, and the other thing was not thinking about it.

Harry set his mouse and his book beside each other on the desk. He followed the spells to a T, with little help from the elder wand. Turns out that the spells he was casting were similar to the spells one must learn to become a healer. Harry wasn't going to think about that either. If there was a competition for avoiding thinking about things, Harry would enter in a heartbeat. Actually maybe he wouldn't; he would win so easily that people would forget all about him defeating Voldemort in light of how thoroughly he crushed his opponents in not thinking about things. They would call him THe Boy Who Didn't Think. Actually, he had already gained that moniker, so nevermind all that.

So, one quick bit of spellcasting later, and Harry still had a dead mouse on his hands, but now it was fresh, like it had just died in his hands. Wizarding embalming was nothing to be trifled with, it seems. The mouse was actually bleeding all over the table, from a row of teeth marks on his abdomen. Teeth marks that looked more human than anything else, but small, like a child? Why on earth would a human child- Kreacher! Ok, Harry was out of the running for the “Not Thinking About It” games because he was unable to stop himself from thinking about it now. Kreacher hunted and killed mice with his bare teeth? Harry could vividly imagine him scrabbling across the ground after something he was hunting.

Whatever, let Kreacher have his fun.

Harry looked back at the mouse. Most people didn't know that healing spells worked regardless of whether you were alive or not. Harry cast a quick epidermal spell, fixing the mouse externally, but leaving it messed up internally as he was only looking for the appearance of a whole healthy creature. Now, the mouse looked as though it could still be alive but sleeping peacefully. A success! Harry then cast another spell from his embalming book. This one kept the mouse from rotting for two months. After that, it would need to be cast again, though Harry didn't imagine himself wanting to do that to the mouse in any case.

Harry turned to Mr. Magopy's corpse, his practice done. This would be easy.

---

And it was, yay!

Now Harry just had to reunite Mr. Magopy with his body.

Harry summoned his hat and coat, ready to brave the English weather, when he realised that while he toiled away, the night had fallen. Alright then, he would simply go tomorrow.

---

"Hello there Healer Potter, I didn't expect to see you so soon, but I was certainly Happy to receive your letter!"

Mr. Magopy was certainly a chipper fucker for being incorporeal. He'd be a torture with his body back.

"Yes, Mr. Magopy, I've made incredible progress in finding out what to do with you. Honestly, I fully believe you will be whole again before the day is out!"

Mr. Magopy, being invisible, was not exactly broadcasting his emotions, but Corrdas was most certainly plain in his delight. No sense of suspicion then, good. Harry needed trust and belief.

"But first, gentlemen, would you mind showing me to your dining room? Or any other room with a Mr. Magopy sized table?"

The dining room had a long rectangular table, which was painted in delicate flower work, the type often seen on porcelain. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing the likes of it in the muggle world, maybe it was a purely wizarding furniture trend. Down the centre of the table there was a runner of delicate lace. Cat in the centre of it was a vase full of wildflowers, probably plucked from Corrdas's garden. A picturesque cottage scene.

Harry levitated the lamp away and dumped Mr. Magopy's corpse on top of the table.

There were several loud exclamations, probably because Harry had just emptied out his duffel bag of what appeared to be a small child's corpse. It was, in fact, Mr. Magopy shrunken down for easy transport. Harry felt foolish for not considering this type of transport beforehand.

"Don't worry, this is Mr. Magopy returned. Now, how tall do you want to be?"

"Six foot five, please," "Five foot seven is fine," were the responses from Corrdas and Mr. Magopy respectively. A brief discussion ensued wherein Corrdas was the clear winner. Harry was not going to question why he wanted his friend to be taller. Reaching tall shelves maybe?

Harry unshrunk Mr. Magopy to roughly the size desired, and spoke "Now, Mr. Magopy, this is your body, I was able to pluck it from Apparition Space where you had accidentally left it last time you apparated. You're going to have to take better care of it this time, you hear? It's a really easy fix actually, you are be able to just begin controlling it again, as if you two were never separated," Harry figured the more certain he sounded, the more Mr. Magopy was going to believe it, and the more he believed it, the more his magic would.

There was a tense few seconds as nothing happened, but slowly and surely, Mr. Magopy sat up from his temporary bed. He was clearly unused to piloting a body in this fashion, but practice would surely help.

The moment Mr. Magopy was fully sat up Corrdas lunged across the table to embrace him. Harry looked away, but could hear laughter and tears and promises to never leave again. Would have been sweet if Harry wasn't thinking about how one of the men was in actuality a really fresh corpse. Harry decided to wait until they were done before finishing up.

...

Any minute now.

...

Nevermind, Harry was just going to start. "Ahem, gentlemen? Yes, thank you. So, all will be good health wise for you, all you need to do is check back in with me at St. Mungo's every month and a half. This is very important, and can be missed for no reasons, but no need to worry, nothing bad will happen if you miss the exact day of your appointment. Nevertheless DO NOT miss your appointment, understood?"

Alright, sorted. Harry just had to send letters back to the experts he had mailed.

---

"Dear Apparition Experts,

I have found that your body and magic travel separately during the process of apparition, so if your body is killed prior to the arrival of your magic it is left untethered. Being pure magic, it will simply behave as it believes it should. I assume that this has happened many times with no results, however my current patient was unaware he needed a body to exist, and so he continued to exist without one. Should you be able to track him down, DO NOT inform him of any of this.

Thank you, that is all,

Harry J. Potter, Healer of St Mungo's"

Chapter Text

Harry's father had become an animagus for Remus Lupin, and now Harry was becoming an animagus for Remus Lupin's son. Very poetic of him.

Harry had begun the process in the wavy months after the war had ended. Harry had felt cut adrift: celebrating some days, mourning others, rebuilding what was lost and building new. He had originally started the animagus process because of how useful it had been to Sirius (although Harry hoped it wouldn’t be useful in quite the same way), but it had been forgotten by the wayside when he had started training properly to be a healer.

Recently, Remus (He had gotten sick of being called “Lupin” by Harry) had called him up and asked for help, help with his son, and Harry had decided to finish his transformation.

---

After the war, Remus had been left as a single parent, but there were many people willing to give him a hand. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were always willing to babysit or help out whenever Rremus asked, Molly and Arthur had been endless fountains of wisdom when it comes to how to look after children, and many other people besides were willing to lend a hand. Out of everybody, it was Andromeda Tonks who had been there the most, offering to let them both stay in her house, and being there every single day for them. Remus was particularly grateful for this around the full moon, for obvious reasons.

However, when little Teddy was just about beginning to walk about on his own, Andromeda had gotten quite the fright. She was looking after him alone, as Remus was out dealing with Moony. Teddy was fussing all evening, and refused to go to bed. Andromeda decided to let him tire himself out further. She set him down with some toys and went into the kitchen to boil the kettle. She heard Teddy begin to wail, before the noise cut off abruptly. She ran back to him only to see a wolf cub where her grandson had been.

Andromeda had spent the night keeping a werewolf cub contained in her sitting room. She was a resourceful witch, and had placed locking charms on each of the doors, reinforced them magically, and had gotten some of the roast beef they had had for dinner into the room, to let Teddy snack on.

Remus had been devastated. However, he had claimed it was "The first thing I already knew how to deal with" with his son. He had had decades of terrible experiences related to being a werewolf, and would not let his son experience any of them. He knew which potions hurt and which helped, he could sniff out harmful silver from a mile away and he understood the instincts his son was dealing with. Moony took an extreme interest in his cub, and after months of trial and the strongest barrier wards known to man or beast, they had found that Moony and Teddy could easily spend the moons together, and this eased both of their burdens.

For such a terrible situation, the family had handled it well. In the beginning. This didn’t last.

One morning, Remus entered his son’s room to get him ready for his day, but saw a wolf cub instead. In broad daylight, with a crescent moon overhead. Teddy did not change back that night or even the following morning. He was a wolf pup all of the time, regardless of moon cycle. “Shit,” as Andromeda so eloquently put it.

All was safe for Remus, as he was already a werewolf, but if Teddy accidentally broke skin in a playful bite on Andromeda? Could she be infected outside a full moon, or at least be given the partial lycanthropy of Bill Weasley? That was a chance nobody was going to take, so Remus had asked Harry for help. Which led Harry to finally finish his animagus transformation and invite Remus over to his house. A temporary stay, to keep Andromeda safe and give Harry the opportunity to try and solve their issues

---

Harry had cleaned and partially renovated his house prior to the Lupins' arrival. He had fixed up a bedroom on the fourth floor for Remus to stay in, and another across the hall for Teddy. He had bought lots and lots of toys (both dog and human) and had gotten everything that Remus had recommended to have for Teddy, assured that Remus would want (and ask for) the best for his kid, even if he wouldn't do it for himself. He had also bought roughly a century's supply of chocolate, for Remus of course.

Remus portkeyed to just outside Grimmauld place. Portkeys, Remus found, were better for travelling with luggage, as anything touching the portkey would come, rather than everything touching the wizard such as in floo and apparition. Simply use a rope as a portley and tie it to each piece of luggage you have, easy.

Harry walked out to greet his... whatever Remus was to him, and his godson. He only saw Remus, but as he got closer he could hear growling and snarling.

"Careful now, Harry, you don't want to get too close. Could you help me carry the other trunks in?"

And Harry saw in his old professors hand a cat carrier, with a tiny little wolf pup inside, baring his teeth and making noises that would have been intimidating coming from any creature which was not in a little plastic crate.

Teddy Lupin had always been a metamorphmagus, changing his appearance freely and at will, with less crazy hair colours than his mother, but a surprising penchant for mimicking people and things around him. He had spent a not insignificant amount of time mimicking the carpet of the Tonks household, blending in much to the consternation of his caregivers. They had taken to dressing him up in very bright and visible clothes to aid in finding him, back when he was human. As a wolf he tore any clothes put on him to shreds, which put a damper on those plans.

As a wolf, his fur was usually the sandy colour of his father, but changed to match whatever he saw, either the dark colours of the forest floor or matching animals he saw. On one notable occasion, Remus recalled seeing him mimicking an orange tabby that had crossed their path.

Today, Teddy seemed to have taken on the colour of his crate. A nice soft pink. He looked equal parts adorable and ridiculous.

Harry coo-ed "Oh hey there little guy, who wants some raw meat?". Teddy began rocking his crate side to side, trying to escape. Remus had to grip the crate with both hands to keep it steady.

"Harry. Help me inside first?"

Harry did.

---

When all of the trunks had been brought off of the street, Harry led Remus, and by extension Teddy, into his sitting room, which he had removed all valuables from, and had added ropes across the ceiling, drooping low so there was plenty of space between the ropes and the ceiling, but still far off of the ground. He had also created some tiny hiding spaces at ground level. Small enough for a wolf pup, to give him a place to scurry into, in case he felt threatened or something? Remus had gone off on a tangent which Harry could only recall as a buzzing noise.

"Alright, you can let him out, if he goes for me I can transform and get away."

Remus did just that. Teddy rushed out of the carrier. He ran two laps of the room before turning around and doing two more. He then stopped dead, turned towards Harry, and charged. “Don't know what I was expecting” Harry thought as he leaped into the air. While he was airborne, he embraced the change that sat just under his skin. Harry found he felt more comfortable in his animagus form than in his human form, like his skin fit just right. Like he should have been like this all along. Harry spread his wings a bit, not fully, and came to a landing on the floor behind Teddy, quickly turning around to face him. Turning your back on a werewolf was not a good idea.

Back when Harry had first transformed, it was obvious that Harry was some sort of vulture: they were rather distinctive birds, yunno? Harry wanted to know a bit more than that and had sat himself in front of a mirror with an identification guide. The Black family seemed to have a birdwatcher somewhere in the family tree; there was a whole section of the library dedicated to birdwatching. It was in between the section on gouging eyes out and the section on cooking (with poison).

He read “If eyes are the windows to the soul, I wish to defenestrate you,”

Ah shit wrong book.

Quick trip back to the library, and Harry sat himself in front of the mirror again

Harry’s head wasnt bald, which was a relief. He was too young to be bald. His head and neck had short, fuzzy feathers, almost making him look like a chick. A chick which was over a metre tall, and when Harry got out a measuring tape, he found his wings were over 8 feet wide. His feathers were mostly brown on the body and black on the wings. He successfully identified himself as a “Eurasian Griffon Vulture”, which made his heart pang thinking of Buckbeak and Sirius. But it wasn't the time to dwell in the past, time to look into the bright, happy future… Harry couldn’t seem to find a way to make himself not look homicidally pissed off. His posture was hunched, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and also his skull was just shaped angry, nothing to be done about it.

Teddy practically pissed himself. He let out a yelp, and sprinted into one of the hides Harry had set up. Harry hadn’t meant to scare him, but it was difficult not to do. Harry himself would simply pass away if a griffon vulture flew in his direction. Teddy’s reaction was reasonable and understandable.

Remus’s reaction, in Harry’s opinion, was less so. He growled and immediately tackled Harry to the ground.

Harry was, in scientific terms, a big fuckoff bird, weighing in at 10kg and having a beak meant to tear flesh apart. Remus was a werewolf, yes, but he was also a skinny, middle aged man who had had poor health since the age of like 5.

The fight was easily predictable.

Remus won, no contest, and had Harry pinned to the ground immediately. Harry didn’t really want to fight his… Remus (he was much more in the mood to find a dead buffalo), and Remus was caught up in instincts protecting his son. He shook himself out of it basically immediately. His growling turned to silence turned to him awkwardly clearing his throat as he let Harry stand.

“Nice animagus form, Harry. You look very… diagonal?”

Harry hoped that Remus could interpret the look Harry sent him, because Harry wasn’t even sure what he intended it to be. Maybe a cross between relieved that Remus was trying to break the tension and indignant because how the hell could he look “diagonal”. Much later Harry would look in the mirror and find himself to be incredibly, unbelievably diagonal.

Harry let out a huff, and walked over to his medical bag, left conveniently on the floor. Rooting around in there, he found a stick. He passed it to one of his feet and said, at least in his mind, "Say aah!".

---

The checkup went about what was expected, which is to say: terribly. Teddy had copied Harry's feather colour, leading to a 5 minute long search for a small wolf pup the colour of shadows and carpet.

Then Teddy had kept eating the oral inspection sticks.

Then Kreacher had popped in which scared Teddy.

Then Kreacher had said food was ready, which had sent Teddy off in a tizzy of excitement.

Then Kreacher brought in "food", which turned out to be several dead mice stacked on a plate.

Then Teddy had run off with one of the mice, leading to Harry having to transform back to explain to a panicked Remus that his son was going to be fine. Which then led to another close call as Teddy got over his fear of Harry and pounced at him.

Eventually everything had gotten sorted, with food ordered in and Harry eating while sitting cross legged on top of the fridge. Human form, Harry wasn't particularly in the mood to stick his head into his chicken chow mein just to eat it. He would get noodles all over his feathers. Also, Harry was uncomfortable spending too much time in his animagus form, with brand new instincts, he had found himself eyeing up Kreacher’s mouse plate before Teddy’s escape had distracted him.

The fridge itself wasn't plugged in, but Harry had "emotionally blackmailed" Hermione onto casting cold charms on it. The "emotional blackmail" in question was Harry looking slightly disappointed in Hermione's vague vicinity.

Harry decided to do the checkup the next day, to give time for everybody to settle down.

---

The next day dawned bright and sunny, and Harry decided to visit one of the isolated beaches he had found while horcrux hunting. Teddy had loved the beach. He particularly enjoyed eating the crabs he found there, until one had gotten a pinch in. Remus had crushed the offending crab in one clenched fist.

Harry hadn't done the checkup.

---

The next day he was on shift at the hospital, and Harry had been too tired to do the checkup after that.

---

Remus had actually slept fully that night, and had looked refreshed in the morning, and Harry couldn't ruin that with a stressful day.

---

In the end, it was nearly two weeks before Harry had done what the Lupin boys had come over for him to do. All it had taken was an owl from Andromeda, wondering if there was any progress with har grandson, any way Harry had thought of to let her see him again.

Harry had even been able to perform the checkup as a wizard and run proper diagnostic spells, as Teddy had bitten Remus's arm and latched on, growling up a storm. He had dangled from his fathers arm for so long that day that Harry had cast a quick extra diagnostic spell, hours after the checkup, to see if Teddy had actually died latched onto his dad's arm. Turns out he had fallen asleep, and just slept with his jaw clenched. Remus had assured him that it happened all of the time, and had gotten Teddy off by dripping lemon juice down his arm. Teddy had sulked after that, upset that his father had dared to put a bad taste in his mouth after he had bitten him for nearly a full day. Harry had healed the bite marks left behind.

Harry hadn't found anything unusual during the checkup. Werewolf and metamorphmagus and healthy little boy. He was allergic to beans and cats. There was nothing that told why he was trapped in a canine form. Harry was at a loss.

Remus took it hard. He had so dearly wanted his son to have a normal life, and then when he found out his son was a werewolf, he had done everything in his power to make that less of a burden than it had been in his own life. Now, it was looking like his son would perpetually be outcast from society, every day of the month. The only people who would be able to visit him would be ones able to transform into animals themselves to protect from the curse.

Harry offered to let Remus take some time to process, and took Teddy out to the isolated beach to give him space.

Remus had tears in his eyes when he agreed.

---

The next couple days were less peaceful (although peaceful is not exactly the correct term to use with a hyperactive werewolf child in residence) than the previous ones had been.

Before, the Lupins' stay had seemed temporary, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was really nowhere else to go. Nowhere else was safe for werewolves and also for those staying with werewolves. Harry could tell that Remus felt trapped, even though he could leave at any time. Harry wondered if Remus had thought of Sirius, and how he had been confined to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry, for his part, had been reading up on werewolves. Most books discussed ways of killing them. He hated reading these books, it truly made him sick to his stomach thinking that these were guides on how to kill one of his dad's best friends and his own godson.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He couldn't help but think of the people living their lives just downstairs whenever the books described "gutting the beasts before sunrise, as this would keep the pelt in its wolf form,".

But Harry didn't stop reading. He was going to find a way to help them. No matter what.

---

In the end it was an innocuous detail that had led Harry to thinking of a potential solution. It was from the worst book he had read yet. It had been written as a guide on how to use werewolf parts in potions, which had eventually turned into a guide on how to find werewolves to get these ingredients, then to a guide on how to "farm" these ingredients yourself. The book stated that: "Werewolves are made by suffering a bite from one on a full moon. This set of conditions was too specific for me, as I had begun to run out of werewolves I had not harvested in my country. Numbers were dwindling. So, I turned my eye to muggles, and how to turn them into something more useful. As previously mentioned, teeth harvested before sunrise will remain inhuman, but in addition to this, I have found that these teeth are the only thing required to make a werewolf. A simple nick with a tooth, letting out at least a single drop of blood, and a werewolf you shall have,"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Harry had his solution. Just stop Teddy's teeth from drawing blood.

---

"Remus! I need to find a way to get indents of Teddy's teeth!"

Remus looked up at Harry, who had just run down the stairs like Teddy had just found his stash of limited edition flavoured chocolate frogs and was about to eat the only white chocolate one. Remus shrugged, and pulled up his sleeve. As quick as lightning, a brown blur flew across the room, and before Harry could even blink there was a wolf cub hanging from Remus's arm, dangling limply.

Harry got the lemon juice.

---

Harry had used the bite mark left behind to create a mould of Teddy's teeth, which he then used to create rubber mouth guards that would fit over them. He spelled them to within an inch of their rubbery lives, cushioning and softness charms and a specially made charm that would give them flavours at random intervals, to make sure Teddy wanted to keep them in. He put Teddy's favourite flavours in there: blood, chocolate, and crabmeat.

This was a great success, and Teddy took to them like a wolf to the hunt.

Remus had approached and asked if Harry could make something similar for Moony. Harry had apologised and said "These won't stop bites from happening, just make them non-infectious. They will do nothing to stop Moony from killing somebody, he can tear people to shreds. Honestly, this will only be a temporary fix for Teddy here, and I don't know what to do when this is not enough,"

Remus nodded, solemn. Harry knew they were both preparing themselves for a time when Teddy wouldn't be able to be around anybody, mouth guard or not.

---

Harry had wanted to give Andromeda a surprise, but Remus had vetoed this, saying she would be shocked enough with warning. They brought Teddy back in his cat carrier, which was always less hassle than attempting to carry him, especially without lemon juice. Andromeda met them at the door, pulling first Remus and then Harry into hugs. Harry could tell that she had been crying, and that she had covered this fact up, and he was polite enough not to mention it. She ushered them all inside.

Teddy had gotten excited at the sight of his grandmother, and was doing everything in his power to escape his cage. Remus, who had accepted he was not going to get his human son back had looked into dog training in the hopes that he could at least communicate with his son. It was not really known how intelligent werewolves were in their wolf forms, so starting with dog training seemed the best option. From these books he had learned it was best to wait until Teddy was calm before letting him out of the carrier. When Teddy had finally settled down, Remus opened the door to his cage.

And Teddy promptly sprinted across the room, lapping it multiple times, sniffing out places of interest from the home he had not returned to for a long time. He then turned to Andromeda, and jumped up on the sofa beside her. He didn't pounce or try to bite, but sniffed all over her, letting her pet and even briefly hug him. He quickly grew bored of this and began to gnaw on Andromeda's arm, but the mouth guards held true and this didn't hurt her too much, or break any skin.

Harry shed a tear watching the two of them, a beautiful reunion, but Harry couldn’t help but think to the future, and how this was always going to be temporary.

Remus pulled Harry into a hug. Harry sunk into it like Hagrid sinks in water (little fun fact to break the tension).

After a whole great big feelings fest, Andromeda offered to let them all stay for dinner. Harry was not and never would be one to turn down a meal, so he agreed. Remus was not going to be taking Andromeda's grandson away before absolutely necessary, and they all knew that they would be leaving, Teddy couldn't wear a mouth guard his entire life.

---

After dinner, Andromeda wanted to see Harry's animagus form. Harry gladly acquiesced, turning into a vulture and walking (Remus had called it hobbling, but he was a dirty bastard) around the room a bit before jumping up onto the couch beside Andromeda. Andromeda was delighted with all this, and pet Harry's head a few times. This made Teddy jealous. He started tugging on Andromeda's sleeve, trying to take her hand away from Harry. Andromeda gave Teddy an absent-minded pat on the head. Harry decided it was time to turn back, hopping down onto the ground and stretching his wings out fully (totally not showing off) before doing so. Andromeda let go of Teddy's head, giving a pleased round of clapping.

This was apparently the last straw for Teddy.

Teddy Lupin, who was just a werewolf cub, and had been for months, simply turned back into a human child.

Chaos ensued.

---

Turns out Teddy Lupin was able to transform at will, and had simply not had that will until he saw Harry getting praise in front of him. Typical toddler.

He took after his mother and apparently metamorphmagy had an interesting effect when combined with lycanthropy.

He took after his father in that he was definitely a marauder at heart.

Remus cried wholeheartedly when he found out that his son did have that chance at a semi-normal life after all. Teddy had transformed again to try and give his father some comfort. Harry secretly thought that that's what Teddy had been doing all along, taking the form he was in when he saw his father at his happiest, as Moony.

Then Teddy bit his father on the nose and Harry abandoned that theory for his new theory that Teddy just liked biting things.

---

Dear Hermione,

Sorry you can't come over for tea again, but the Lupins are staying here until they can reliably fix Teddy's "furry little problem". Honestly, I don't expect it to take long; Teddy likes chocolate just as much as his dad, and bribing him works excellently. My mouth guards are being put to use whenever he is in wolf form, I've charmed them to be slivers as thin as paper which hide in his teeth in human form, but change whenever he does. Remus is very grateful. His arm is grateful-er. My furniture is grateful-est.

It's actually very interesting seeing how Teddy behaves in his wolf form, he certainly has a very different personality, so I'm inclined to believe he's fully a werewolf in that form, which has interesting implications for how other werewolves behave. There haven't been many studies done on werewolves in general, most mentions in literature of young werewolves are fear mongering put out by anti-non-human rights organisations, and I haven't seen anything at all mentioning metamorphmagy as it relates to lycanthropy. It will be interesting to see what Teddy experiences. I can't wait for him to grow old enough to speak about his perspective.

Remus tells me to stop treating his child like a specimen to be studied. On a related note:I’m proud that he’s willing and comfortable enough around me to allow himself to "make werewolf noises", however he is fucking terrifying when he does it, so theres that.

Hopefully I can see you soon,

Harry

Chapter Text

die die die Die Die Die DIE DIE DIE!

…

Damn.

AVADA KEDAVRA!

…

Damn, again.

Turns out Harry did not possess the power to kill somebody by sheer willpower.

He got up and let the person who had been knocking at the door to his room (just as his shift was about to end!) in.

Well, calling it his room was a bit of a stretch. All the private treatment rooms in Mungo's were identical, and none belonged to anybody in particular, but somebody had (presumably accidentally, hopefully accidentally) scorched the walls in this room, and now no other healers would use it, so Harry was left to use it himself. He quite liked the persistent burning smell; it reminded him of his old dorms, back in Hogwarts.

The patient that entered his room was wearing what Harry recognised as pale pink labrobes, and walked like they were in desperate need of some medical care. Harry could tell that walk from a mile away. They seemed to be holding something buzzing and whirring in their hand. It glinted gold. The patient had very little hair, all of it having been shorn into a fuzz on top of their head. Harry always found it difficult to resist the urge to rub his hands on such heads, but he was a professional, and could manage it. There were goggles hanging around their neck. Harry knew the goggles as the type which could magnify, and were used for fine detail work, he had a pair himself in some drawer or another.

Harry gave a casual two fingered salute and said "'Lo," as he and the patient settled into their seats.

The patient responded in a tone which was self important and grandiose. "Greetings, Healer Potter, my name is-" They even rolled the "R" in greetings, and accompanied it with a wide sweeping gesture with their non-golden hand. Harry had already not had much love in his heart for this patient, and his heart shrank 3 times that day.

"Don't care what your name is, get on with it."

Harry watched his unnamed patient's face turn to shock and bafflement. This was clearly not the experience they expected from this visit. Honey, you've got a big storm coming.

Suddenly, there was a sucking pop noise, absolutely horrific on Harry's poor ears. Accompanying the noise, his patient's appearance had changed slightly. They seemed agitated, face flushed with rage, and clothes dishevelled. They were in a slightly different position on the chair, too, closer to the edge, and leaning into Harry's space.

His patient apparently didn't notice anything off, and spoke, in a tone of voice more hiss than speech: "And the other issue is that I cannot control when it takes me. I've been bouncing all around in short time bursts, as I'm sure you have noticed-"

No, Harry had not noticed that. What. The. Hell?

"Nope, this is news to me," Harry responded, in a jaunty tone. He knew exactly what that would do to somebody that pissed off.

Pure rage erupted across his patient's face. They grit their teeth even further, jaw clenched so hard that the muscles responsible were popping out of their face. They took a shaky, deep breath and spoke again, in a voice carefully devoid of all emotion: "I fucking hate you. But, I have never travelled past this appointment, so I do believe that you will be able to fix my issue."

Huh, ok, so Harry would definitely find a solution to their problem, cool. No need to worry too much about this then. Harry let out a contented sigh and leaned back in his chair. The patient did not appreciate this, and opened their mouth to begin talking and-

Sucking pop noise.

Different version of the patient. Obviously less tense, seeming more irritated than enraged. Was clearly halfway through saying something when the time pop happened.

"-time turners afforded, and those who wished to remain safe. In the end, the pureblood families influenced the Ministry into banning the use of time turners, being of the belief that if they couldn't have the power, then nobody could. Ever since then the ministry has been collecting them into the department of mysteries."

"Huh, time turner. That's the gold in your hand?"

The patient gave me an angry glance out of the corner of their eye, but didn't respond, apparently ignoring Harry. Huh. Strange.

Again, another pop.

"Umm anyways... so, I'm a very distinguished master of enchantment, if you had cared to hear my name you would no doubt recognize it-"

"Anybody who gets themselves in St. Mungo's unable to control when they are in time is not somebody I believe in the talents of, with respect," Harry made it very clear in his tone that there was no respect intended

This had been the calmest he had seen the patient since the beginning. They had started out slightly perturbed, more confused than anything, and by the end of Harry's statement, had been very clearly trying and failing to keep their composure.

Harry would have felt bad, if his shift hadn't ended already. Well, maybe he wouldn't have, who knows? He can do what he wants.

POP!

"Within the past few years, rumours have been circulating that all of the time turners have been destroyed." Good ol’ Neville, knocking over the time travel shelf. "I knew that this would be my chance to prove myself as an enchanter to be reckoned with. I began working on my own version of a time turner, one that couldn't be stolen, so that the Ministry couldn't gather them all up. If I offer pureblood families the opportunity to have time travel at their fingertips, with no personal risk, I know I will be made very very rich. They would certainly overturn the ministry's old rules on time turners, quick as a snap."

"How were you intending on keeping them from being stolen?" Harry asked, curious.

"Finally showing some respect, I see." Fat chance of that, hah! "Good. Well, I just used a permanent sticking charm, to prevent them from ever being removed from one's person. I had intended on turning them into jewellery for everyday use, but I find myself stuck in this position. Anyways, this also means that the turners couldn't be shared, meaning more people would be knocking at my door looking for one. That is the problem I'm facing right now-"

Another pop.

What was said before the pop gave Harry a hesitant solution to the problem, one which he would definitely have not tried if his patient hadn't just confessed to having crooked business strategy, accompanied with a strong dose of self aggrandisement. Harry decided to let everything play out anyways, god knows what time shenanigans could happen if he moved before the entire conversation was through.

While Harry was considering this, his patient had just been staring at him. Harry raised an eyebrow (a skill he had been practising since becoming a healer, you wouldn't believe how far a proper eyebrow can get you).

His patient was clearly very pissed off. They said, very matter of factly, "I'm ignoring you now,"

Wow, super mature.

"Good, can I ignore you too?"

An icy glare was sent Harry's way. Harry plugged his ears and starts going "Lalalalala,"

Harry has never claimed to be mature in his life, and if somebody tells you that he did, they are a dirty stinking liar who should not be trusted.

POP! They really don't get less slurpy with time, and Harry suppresses a shudder.

Harry is still keeping up his lalalas and his patient is already speaking, pretty loudly all things considered.

"Alright, Healer Potter, I will try to- merlin fuck stop with the lalalas! I'm going to kill you after you fix me!"

Wow, Harry was sensing a lot of hostility in the room. Harry stopped the lalalas.

"Now, as I was saying, I managed to, through great effort, although not as much effort as it is taking me to not kill you on the spot, create a working time turner. The only issue is that i cannot separate myself from it-"

"Oh, really? Hadn't noticed. Also, pretty sure you've got more than one issue,"

An angry "Yes." was hissed out. Harry should really check if this inventor was able to speak parseltongue. Before he could ask, however, there was another loud-

Pop.

"Time Turners" Very loud, wonder why? "Have always been exceptionally rare, having been created anonymously by a creator who refused to tell the secret to creating more. All of the time turners were widely dispersed, usually to pureblood families. However, they always put a target on the backs of those who possessed them, often being the reason for a lot of burglaries and murder. This caused a tension within the pureblood families, between those who coveted the power-"

Their voice was cut off by another pop, which was fortunate as Harry was about to cut them off himself by making an over exaggerated fake yawn. He's sure that would have gone over well.

The new version of his patient was clearly trying to affect a reasonable tone in their voice. "You see I cannot remove this from my hand,"

"Yeah I got that, dumbass,"

Opps, that was meant to stay inside.

St Mungo's was very lax on what its healers could do, but an insult as direct as that was generally frowned upon.

"YOU! You ignorant, insolent FOOL OF A HEALER! I am here for you to fucking HELP ME! And this is what you do?! You have demeaned me, insulted me, ignored me, and you disregard my work and my abilities. I know the standards for St. Mungos are low, but I did not think that they were in the business of hiring low-life idiotic invertebrates with no clue how to tell the ass end of a wand from the tip!! I’m bloody fucking done with you, Healer Potter!!!"

Wow, Harry had pushed a bit too far with that one. Harry wondered if the rooms around him could hear the yelling. The silencing charms were good, but not impenetrable (by design, mind you). Harry needed to whip out (and brush the dust off of) his good old conflict de-escalation skills.

Harry spoke, in the calmest, most measured tone he could muster. "You said that you haven't travelled to any time after this moment, yes? Well, you know I'm going to solve your issue, so this will all be over shortly, right? How about we all calm down in the meantime? I’m sure you are eagerly awaiting returning to time as it should be,"

Not his best work, but it seemed to do the job. Nice one Harry.

His patient was still taking deep, calming breaths when a sudden noise sounded.

It was another pop.

"Well, alright then, I suppose you are just eager to help me out! A commendable trait in a healer such as yourself!"

There was a bright grin on his patient's face. What followed was a terribly awkward silence. The grin grew strained.

"Wow, this must have been from before I broke your spirit. See you in a pop then! And yes, I am an excellent healer,"

Confusion danced across his patient's face before being dragged away by another pop.

"Yes. Healer Potter. Well." Spoken through gritted teeth, this was clearly a version of the patient who had experienced more of Harry's company than the last version. "I do happen to have been the first person to enchant a time turner this century, thankyouverymuch."

His patient paused, probably expecting Harry to be suitably impressed. Harry had already gotten over the time turner thing a while before. Old hat now really.

They cleared their throat. "Well, anyways, from the start I guess,"

Harry groaned and flopped around on his chair like a fish. He did always have a flair for the dramatic, and he was seriously bored of all this. He just wanted to go home, now. He didn’t get to see his patient’s reaction to all this, because of:

Another pop.

"Alright, that's everything then. Everything explained." The contradiction between the last thing his patient said and this most recent thing made Harry snort, though this snort didn't even phase them. Wow, must be super late on the timeline. "At least everything you let me explain. Now, please administer whatever solution you have to my problems."

"Sure thing"

Patient was visually baffled at the casual acceptance in Harry's voice. Harry bet they were going to become a little bit more than baffled at his solution.

Harry cast a numbing spell then a cutting one. Torpere and Diffindo, respectively.

The time turner fell to the floor, still attached to the hand which held it.

"No other cure for the permanent sticking charm, I'm afraid. I'm not really specialised in magical limb replacement. Head on over to Healer Crossby for that. Lovely bloke, he will fix you right up with a new hand, just as good as your old one,"

Harry additionally cast a spell to stop the bleeding.

His patient was flabbergasted. Speechless. Harry understood the feeling, but really wanted them to just shuffle along now.

Another pop rang out in the room.

Both of them looked down at the hand, which had presumably just time travveled all on its own. That’s probably a first in history, not that Harry would know. He hadn’t exactly studied the things. His patient reached out for it.

Harry quickly levitated the hand into a box (one meant for removed limbs. St. Mungo’s was always prepared.) and sealed it, with a chipper "I will have to dispose of that later!" His patient made their first noise since their hand was removed. It was a pained sounding squeak.

They said "My life's work... gone."

Oof, yikes.

Harry decided to let them deal with that in their own time. He stood and left the room.

Hometime! WOOHOO!!!

Harry apparated out of St. Mungos with the satisfied feeling of a job well done.

---

"Dear Department of Mysteries,

How's it going? It's me again! Your favourite healer! You guys end up in my office more than anybody else's.

Funny that.

Anyways, I just asked a friend about this but apparently there's no Healer-Patient confidentiality in the wizarding world. There's also no hippocratic oath. We just sorta do what we want, crazy right?

Well, probably not crazy to you guys, being the department of mysteries n' all. It's your job to know things.

It is also apparently common knowledge in the wizarding world, which helps too.

Anyways, I'd like to report that there's some inventor out there who is very close to making a working time turner. Well, they can definitely travel in time, but all the rest is a bit far off. You should totally go shut down their operation before people get their hands on these off-brand time turners.

I want you to know that normally I ain't no snitch (of the informant variety, not the quidditch variety) (although I'm not a snitch of the quidditch variety, either), but this person is planning on selling as many as possible, and that will cause chaos. Even more concerning is that they're targeting purebloods! I would be dead on the floor if any Malfoy got their hands on a time turner.

Please shut down this inventor's whole schtick. I do not know their name, age, address, blood type, Favourite colour, or what Hogwarts house they were in. So just, figure all that stuff out yourself. You're the Department of Mysteries, you can just do that, right?

All the best,

Harry J. Potter, Healer of St Mungo's"

Chapter Text

The door slams open, the sound cutting off all the noise from the room. In the doorframe stood a man in Healer's robes, partially undone, allowing for a glimpse of his chest. His hair was shoulder length, dark, and waving in a wind that simply shouldn't exist indoors. His jaw was as angular as one's first attempt at peeling a potato with a knife, and his nose was prominent and strong. He was holding a clipboard, which only served to highlight the strength clearly visible in his large hands.

"I heard somebody in distress, is there anything I could do to... help?"

There were three occupants of the room, one lanky ginger man who was seated but seemed to be poised to run, one brunette woman standing with her fists on her hips leaning down to look the third occupant in the eye. Said third person was a small man dressed in Healer's robes who looked like he had just seen whatever a god would view as a boggart. There was a high pitched whining noise emanating from somewhere in the room. All of these occupants had turned to look at the stunningly handsome healer who had just entered.

The woman responded to the question posed. "No, no, everything is fine, we are just discussing a medical issue with our healer and friend here. There's nothing to be worried about,"

The muscular man in the entryway sullied his face with a frown, an expression not deserving to be on a face so attractive. "Are you sure, it really sounded like somebody was dying a terribly painful death in here?"

"Yes, no need to bother, you can go back to your job,"

"There were no banshees in here? No werewolves on the loose?"

"Nope! None of those! Trot along now, thank you,"

"Did the Dark Lord return, very temporarily, within these four walls?"

"Not that we noticed,"

"Well, what about-"

"Shut the fuck up and leave before I cast the spell I just learned that reverses the flow of your digestive tract!"

"..."

"..."

"What's a digestive tract?"

"Oh my god, LEAVE!"

And with that the healer left showing off an ass that was quite frankly disappointingly flat. Oh well, can't have everything.

---

After dealing with that interruption, Hermione turned around to find Harry had turned himself into a vulture and was trying to sneak away. As one of the largest birds capable of flight, with a wingspan of roughly three metres, he was definitely lacking in the sneaking department. Hermione watched him try to walk away, listening to the clacking noises of his claws hitting the ground for a moment, calming herself down so she could approach the situation with the caring touch Harry clearly needed. She felt Ron put his arm on her shoulder, a silent show of support giving her the last push she needed.

"Harry, could you please turn back into a person and just sit down with us to talk?" she pleaded, in possibly the softest tone she had ever used in her life.

Clack...Clack…Clack turned to Clack Clack Clack as Harry sped up his escape.

Hermione sighed

Clack-Clack-Clack-Clack-Clack

"HARRY JAMES POTTER SIT THE HELL DOWN"

Harry returned, and sat. He has turned away from his friends, avoiding even accidentally making eye contact.

"Alright, explain your issue again, this time I think I'll be able to deal with it." Harry's voice was trembling with uncertainty.

Hermione was grateful for this improvement, however marginal it was. She recollected herself, sitting down once again next to Ron. She spoke again, returning to a soft cadence, "Harry, our dear friend. We come to you with an issue of a personal matter. As you know, me and Ron are dating, married even-"

At this, a high pitched whine began to emanate from Harry's throat. He even more carefully turned his head away from them. Hermione just decided to continue.

"And as a couple we engage in certain activities-"

The whine cut off into a sob, before continuing even louder.

"-Which we will not be discussing, don't worry about that. All we need to say is that these activities occurred as normal, with zero issues-"

The whining was loud enough that Hermione was raising her voice to be heard.

Ron decided that this was the time to interject. "Actually, Hermione, there was that one time when-"

Ron was cut off by a sharp and quick scream from Harry, who had turned towards him to glare with enough force that Ron could feel pressure forming inside his skull.

Hermione took over again, now with Harry covering his ears. She was talking far louder than she had ever wanted to discuss private matters, but it had to be done. "Anyways, no issues in the bedroom from what we can see, except that we are having a lot-"

By this point both her and Harry were practically screaming again.

"OF TROUBLE CONCIEVING A CHILD. HARRY COULD YOU HELP US GET PREGNANT"

Harry was not taking the request any better the second time it was asked, and had once again began screaming in terror.

The door slams open, Healer Muscles again, this time the sound did not startle Harry out of screaming.

"Aha! I knew I heard a banshee!"

This was going to be a long day for Hermione.

---
Harry had put forward the concept of adoption, but the wizarding world had no orphanages, and adopting muggles was illegal. They needed a baby of their own, and it needed to stand up to Ministry scrutiny so just yoinking a random ginger kid was out of the question, apparently. So Harry had to actually fix the issue.

The black library was a fountain of resources for once. Turns out having trouble getting preganat was almost as common as incest (and birth defects) in the family. Who could have guessed?

In no time at all Harry had stacks upon stacks of books to look through for solutions to his friends' problems. He asked Kreacher to take them all over to the little reading nook. Kreacher did as asked, but left each book open on the worst most graphic diagram possible each book had to offer. Harry actually knew some spells that washed eyes, but none worked on brains except obliviate. Looking into obliviations would actually be a pretty good idea, actually...

Anyways, Harry had better get started.

He opened the first book. It was called "Philomena Hagfield's Excellent Guide to Getting Pregnant". The cover was embossed with triangular flowers and striped leaves. Pretty. Harry opened the book and was immediately bombarded with images of sexual positions that looked like they could only possibly work if both (or in some images all) parties involved were both olympic level gymnasts and also not in possession of any bones or organs. Harry slammed the book closed.

The next book was soft pink in colour, and had no listed author. It was a book mostly concerned with becoming pregnant by using whoever the reader wanted. The contents within were categorically crimes and morally reprehensible ones at that. Amortentia was a go-to, along with Imperio curses and Draughts of Living Death. It had a companion book listed "for gentlemen wishing for more children, with unreasonable wives".

Harry was tempted to burn the book, but the last attempt he made to destroy a book here resulted in Harry himself feeling the flames. The Black Library was not a force to be trifled with.

Harry settled for allowing Kreacher to use it in his "book nest". A rather self explanatory structure. Kreacher liked to nap in there, curled up by the fire. Harry once caught himself thinking of it as being "cute". Harry nearly told Kreacher this, as payback for Kreacher "cleaning up" the mess in the kitchen by moving it all to Harry's room, but Harry decided against it, deciding Kreacher deserves his little patches of joy.

The next book had more diagrams, Harry skipped this one too.

Harry opened the next book, apparently Merlin himself had come up with a way of getting even males pregnant. Harry was most of the way through the book before realising that this was simply erotic fiction coupling Merlin with King Arthur. It took him embarrassingly long to come to this conclusion, having already read past when the other knights of the round table joined in on the activities.

Harry had had enough, and took out his wand. "Alright. If any of you books show methods of medically fixing my friends' issues, with no negative side effects for any party involved, and preferably little to no dark magic, show yourself." He pointed his wand at the stack. Nothing happened. "I will give every single one of you to the book-nest. I think Kreacher has been baking today. Would be a shame if dough got all over his nest, and with all his new additions?" One book in the pile began to vibrate, Harry pulled it out. "Thank you, for your service." He could feel the tension dissipate from the rest of the pile.

The book he had "found" was indeed a medical text. It discussed various issues that could cause infertility, and gave various diagnostic tests. It detailed that samples must be taken of sperm and egg, and showed- wait. Samples? Of sperm and egg? So Harry would have to ask Ron and Hermione for-. No. Harry would find a different solution. One that did not involve any of that at all. No thanks.

"Alright, Black library. I need a book on stealing children,"

Furious buzzing from basically every shelf.

"Well that's dreadfully concerning, but I will move on. I need the stolen child to biologically become the child of the family I give it to."

Only one buzzing book remains.

"The Fey and Their Machinations, huh? Alright then."

---

"The Fey are creatures of perfection, but crave the imperfection of humanity. Living for centuries in a symmetrical world, they long for flaws, believing true beauty is found in the cracks of ceramic, the mistakes on the canvas, or missed notes in a tune. This is not to say that the Fey admire ugliness, they simply desire that which is a breath away from perfection, but not there yet. They cannot create flaws themselves; beings made of perfection cannot achieve anything but perfection. So the Fey steal away young from the mortal realm to live in the fairy court, admiring them for their unbalanced beauty and their imperfect work. Stolen young are replaced with changelings, young Fey who are made to be loved by their new families. If a changeling is found out and rejected by their parents, then they fade away, tethered to neither the mortal world nor the fairy court. The real child of the parents may occasionally be returned, but are usually kept in the fairy court for the rest of their days."

---

"Alright, books, that'll do. Now I'm going to need a way to get into the fairy court. Who can help me?"

A few books buzzed, softly, and Harry picked up the closest one. Irish folk tales, apparently.

When he turned back to the desk, Harry came face to face with Kreacher's massive eyes, glaring him down.

"Yes, Kreacher? Anything I can do for you?" Kreacher always took that question to be Harry doubting his ability to do all he needed to, and Kreacher's narrowing eyes showed this time to be no different.

"Mistress Harry, you are going to get yourself killed or even better, tortured for all eternity. What's your plan for the house? And for me."

"Well, I had planned on passing it on to Ron and Hermione,"

Kreacher ground his teeth and growled.

"But I think that they are happy enough where they are at the moment,"

Kreacher relaxed slightly, and the growling dropped off.

"So now I think I might give it to the Dursleys. They're my muggle family, remember? Because I'm a half-blood. Merlin, it must have been hard for you to adapt to having a half-blood as a master, but hopefully now that you're used to that, being the house elf to some muggles won't be any issue, right?"

Kreacher's ears were shaking from the force of his growling, and a trail of spit had started dripping out of his mouth onto the floor. Seems he wasn't pleased with this fake arrangement. Kreacher knew it was fake, most of their bonding so far had been Harry drunkenly complaining about the Dursleys while Kreacher listed off some appropriate torture methods for revenge. The hypothetical alone was enough to get him this worked up. Kreacher snapped out of existence, returning momentarily with an amulet made of a dull grey metal, with a thick chain and a dark green gem in its centre.

"Iron," he said, "Keeps fairies away. Bleed on the gem to come home."

This was the nicest, most heartfelt thing anybody had done for Harry, possibly in his entire life.

"Kreacher, I keep my meat snacks for when I'm a vulture in that press in the dungeon. I think it needs to be cleaned, don't you?" Harry knew he would have to restock that press a lot more often. He would also add some bugs. Kreacher likes the crunch.

Kreacher disappeared yet again, seeming as cheerful as one could while sporting the grumpiest face known to man.

Harry sat, and began to read the book of Irish folk tales.

---

Áine cnoc Áine

There was once a girl called Áine, who lived out in the hills with her father. They were cattle farmers, who let their livestock out free during the day, but brought them in at night.

One evening Áine's father called her over from her play and asked her to take in the cows. Áine agreed, and went off to gather the cattle.

Soon enough she returned, but with no cow in sight, ready to go back to her games.

Again her father asked her to take in the cows. Again she agreed and left.

And again she returned with no cattle.

Her father grew angry and said "Bring back the cattle at once, or let the hills have you,". She left.

And did not return with the cows. She never returned at all.

The hill she is under is known as Cnoc Áine, and she will forever be there weaving sunlight into robes for the king of the fairies.

---

Harry did his whole communicating with the books thing yet again, and found out that "cnoc" was the Irish for hill. He read many other stories that night, and came up with three things that resulted in being taken by the fairies.

1. Disobeying or disappointing parents/authority figures/God
2. Intruding upon/harming things sacred to the fairies (fairy forts, fairy rings, fairy trees, etc.)
3. Doing things in threes

So, Harry made a plan.

---

Harry flooed over to Ireland, took up his animagus form, then flew over the countryside, looking for a fairy fort.

Fairy trees were trees that fairies lived in, and anybody who cut down a fairy tree would be cursed. These could be found as being the only trees not cleared out of fields, but sometimes those weren't actually fairy trees and were just trees that the farmer liked. The only way to tell for sure would be to ask people, so Harry was not doing that.

Fairy rings were mushroom circles, and would be harder for Harry to see from the air.

Fairy forts, on the other hand, were rings of stone on the top of hills. Actually built by people a long ass time ago, as an easily defensible place to keep livestock safe from raids. Now generations of people had believed them to belong to the fey, and so they did.

Harry spotted a fairy fort in the distance. Score.

Harry flew over and made sure to land outside the fort. He changed back into a person, and pulled an envelope and three stones out of his pocket. The envelope was from Molly Weasley, the closest thing he really had to a parent or an authority figure (or a God).

Harry started to walk around the fairy fort while reading. Normal catch up on how her kids were doing, Bill and Fleur were happy together, Percy was back in the fold almost entirely, but still just a little awkward, Ron and Hermione seemed stressed about something, but refused to tell her what. Good call on their part. Harry had done two whole loops of the fort in the time it took her to catch him up.

Then Molly turns her attention onto Harry. There!

Are you seeing any girls, Harry?

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I am not seeing any girls,"

Harry, if you are gay, you know I'll accept you, right? Percy is gay.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I am not gay,"

It's just. Ginny has broken up with that dreadful new boyfriend of hers, so if you wanted to, well, you could.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I am not going to get back with Ginny"

He said this just as he was finishing up the third loop of the fairy fort. Harry turned to its centre and threw three stones inward. At first nothing happened, but then a root that was certainly not there before burst out of the ground and tripped Harry up, causing him to tumble into the fairy fort, into the fairy court.

---

It had been day when Harry had circled the fairy fort, but stepping inside it was night now. There were no clouds in the sky, but the stars were so bright it hurt to look at. Harry found himself barefoot and walking across spongy moss. It was wet, like there had been a torrential downpour that he had just missed. In the distance Harry could see nothing but hills with fairy forts and trees. There were also mushrooms glowing every conceivable colour, lined up in rows, showing the paths between the hills and trees.

There were butterflies in the air. Hundreds of them, thousands probably. They were iridescent and beautiful and flying so close to his ears that Harry could not help flinching. There was a heavy scent of heather in the air, so powerful Harry struggled to breathe. There was silence so profound Harry could hear himself blink.

There was a table set for two in front of him. The wood was dark and varnished to a shine that reflected the starlight back up into Harry's eyes. Harry did not look at the table.

The person across from him was tall and angular. Her grey hair was long enough that it just narrowly missed touching the ground from where she was sitting. Her eyes were grey too, but with no detail in the irises, just a solid colour. Her shoulders were wide and her arms were strong. Her dress was a tartan wrap, with more colours than Harry could count woven in. There was a tiny hole near one of her shoulders, and she sat in such a way that it seemed like she was showing off its presence.

She gestured for him to sit. He did.

There was food of all sorts on the table. Harry knew not to touch it, and wasn't even tempted to. It seemed a shame to take a bite out of an apple so perfect, ruining it forever with his teeth.

There was no meat set out.

Harry forced himself into looking at the fairy, just at her shoulder, at the hole.

She spoke "So, you have ventured here, into the fairy court, of your own free will?"

"Yes, and I hope to leave it the same way,"

"Delightful. I'm afraid we haven't been introduced, would you mind giving me your name?"

"My name is Har- hardly important, you can call me Vulture,"

Close call, there. Nearly fell for the biggest trick in the book. Harry needed to think clearer if he was going to get out of there.

"Well, Vulture, you can call me Lady. Why exactly are you here?"

"I am here for a changeling,"

"We don't do refunds."

"No, no, I am here looking to get a changeling,"

"Do you have a baby you wish to exchange?" Lady said, confusion apparent.

Lady looked at Harry carefully, like he was hiding a baby on his person somewhere.

"No, I am just looking for the changeling itself. My problem is that my friends are trying to have a kid, and want me to help them, but I do not want to do any of that gross stuff so I'm just going to give them a changeling,"

"We don't just give out changelings for free, we need an exchange. Tit for tat. What can you give us in return, boy?"

Harry saw red. Boy. Nobody calls him boy. Not since Vernon.

"Do not call me boy. My name is Ha- … Clever. Didn't work, but it was close, I'll admit. Look, I have a plan. Here."

Harry opened up his coat and brought out a matchbox, he slid it open and out popped-

Healer Muscles, as Ron had dubbed him. The perfect specimen of a man. He was screaming.

Harry's exchange for the changeling.

Lady was not particularly impressed. "A man? Really? He seems to be a perfect man, oh do shut up, dear, yes you were in a box, yes the fey realm is scary, quiet down about it. Anyways he is perfection incarnate. He looks like he could even be fey, himself. But why would we want a man who looks like he could be fey? We already have fey that look like fey,"

Harry raised an eyebrow back, "Well, I read that you lot like imperfection? Get a load of this, then."

Harry gestured for the other Healer to turn around, and when Lady saw it, she gasped.

"That ass! It is so flat? It does not ruin his beauty, but makes one mourn for what could have been! This truly is the pinnacle of humanity, a hair's breadth away from perfection and all the more interesting for it. A flaw so minor yet so profound. Truly the fey court has been blessed on this day. There, the changeling has been sent,"

"Excellent! Now I'm afraid we must be parting ways now,"

"No, Vulture, we will not be parting ways. You may not have given your name or eaten our food, but you thrice defied your mother, thrice walked round our fort, and cast three stones into our fort. You should have bargained for your own escape, not just the changeling."

Harry really did not have time for that. The exchange was done, Lady, as a fairy, could not have lied. Harry took a knife from the table and made to cut his palm.

But Lady reached across the table and tried to grab his neck. She was burned away by the iron chain Kreacher gave him. Harry smeared his blood onto the amulet and found himself back in Grimmauld Place. Convenient. Harry apparated to Ron and Hermione's house.

---

All four of them were seated in the living room. There was a bit of an awkward air. Hermione was looking disapprovingly at Harry, Harry was avoiding eye contact, and Ron was trying to get the baby to smile. Said baby was staring uncomprehendingly at Ron's wiggling fingers. It was sitting in what was practically a little baby fort of pillows and cushions. This really made it look like the baby was a member of the discussion, despite being… a baby.

It had ginger hair. Thick and bushy and all the way down to its feet. An incredibly strange appearance for a newborn baby, but Harry wasn't one to judge.

Hermione was judging. "Having a baby just turn up in our house was very strange, Harry. That's not exactly how babies are meant to happen. Couldn't you have just fixed whatever was wrong with me or Ron?" She gestured towards her husband, who was twirling his finger about like he was casting a spell. The baby was equally befuddled and enraptured by this as it had been everything else Ron had done. Hermione cleared her throat. Ron looked up, and said.

"Thanks, Harry. Great little lad this is. Are they a little lad?"

"No clue Ron."

"Well, I love the hair anyways, just like their mother's. And their fathers! Perfect."

Hermione's expression, and her tone, softened. "Harry, I just want to know how this baby came to be, you know I'll go mad trying to figure it out,"

Hermione was being incredibly reasonable and level headed. Pity those weren't traits that Harry had. "Nuh uh not telling,"

Hermione rolled her eyes, reached over and picked up the baby. She cradled it, looking it dead in the eyes, and her hand came up to run through its hair. She frowned and turned to Harry.

"Is this a changeling?"

Instantly the baby began to cry, and wings sprouted out of its back. They were orange and brown, with black spots. Around the borders there were pale blue spots surrounded by black. It seemed to realise its fate and began desperately clinging to what would have been its mother. A rejected changeling would fade away, as the book said.

Harry felt awful for having put Hermione and Ron and the baby through this. Having a family for a moment before it is snatched away, Harry could relate. There was an apology on his lips, but he was cut off by Hermione.

"Mystery solved there, little one. Now shhhhh shhhhhh let's calm down. I'll get you some milk,"

The baby didn't calm instantly, but was certainly less desperate as Hermione carried it away, Leaving Ron and Harry as the only ones in the room. Ron spoke up.

"Blimey, Harry. My kid's got wings! That'll be a hassle to deal with. No hiding things in tall shelves for us! Thanks mate, we owe you one,"

And with that he followed his wife out.

Huh.

Well at least nobody was annoyed at Harry this time.

---

Dear Aurors,

I have been obliviated. I don’t remember it occurring, obviously, but I know it has. I’m missing a full 48 hours, and when I went into work today I found out that one of the other Healers has gone missing! I do not know what has happened, but I hope they aren’t related. I checked my wand and it turns out that whoever cast obliviate on me had used my own wand to do it! Terrible stuff.

In the time that I was out my friends had a child! The child has been named Aglais, and there was some birth complication which resulted in poor little Aglais having butterfly wings! They're from a small tortoiseshell butterfly, and I have attached an image of this species. Such a pity I wasn’t there to celebrate with them, or at least try to fix the baby.

I know this doesn’t really give you many leads, but I am reporting this crime anyways, hopefully you all can get to the bottom of this.

Thank you for your time,
Healer Potter