It was a summer day, and according to the weather forecast it would be hot with high humidity. Oblivious to this fact, Harry Potter woke up at seven and fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. When he was able to see more than just a blur he leapt out of bed. He dressed in a hurry and dashed downstairs. He entered the kitchen to make breakfast for three. He stepped to the stove, reflexively scratching his face where a scar was a barely visible mark of a historic night some ten years ago. That was the night when they rid the world of the last Death Eater. That was the night after everyone else celebrated. And that was the night he had lost almost everything he lived for. Almost, he thought and smiled as he heard the galloping footsteps of a child.
“’Morning, Uncle,” the little girl greeted him and then sat down at the table. She was tall for her age, had ginger-coloured, curly hair and grey eyes.
“Good Morning, Heather.” He returned the greeting, smiling at his niece. “Slept well?”
Heather only shrugged her shoulders and yawned heartily. She rubbed her eyes and then picked up the newspaper to indicate that she didn’t want to speak about it.
“Toast, omelettes or pancakes?” Harry asked her, accepting her unspoken request.
“Toast,” she answered, stifling another yawn. Suddenly she sprang up, throwing down the newspaper. “Grandpa!” she cried and then hurried to an older man who came into the kitchen very slowly. She took his arm, led him to the table and helped him to his seat.
“Thank you, dear,” Arthur Weasley said and after patting the child’s hand, he turned to Harry. He couldn’t see him but he knew he was there. “’Morning, Harry.”
“’Morning, Arthur! Toast, omelettes or pancakes?” he asked his father-in-law, after giving an appreciative look to Heather.
“Omelettes, please. When are you leaving?” the old man inquired.
“As soon as Heather finished breakfast,” Harry answered, preparing the eggs for Arthur’s breakfast.
“Where are we going to?” Heather asked agitatedly.
“To St. Mungo’s,” Harry answered, looking quite perplexed. He thought he told Heather that they were going to visit the hospital.
“Oh, to that place,” Heather murmured grudgingly and then buttered her toast. Harry looked at her, but she didn’t say another word, so he returned his attention to the omelettes. Soon he placed a plate in front of Arthur and placed the fork into his hand.
“Thank you, my son,” Arthur said with a smile and then turned to Heather. “Slept well, my dear?”
“Yes, Grandpa, thank you for asking,” the girl answered and then buttered another toast.
Harry observed her very carefully, it was clearly a lie. He decided to have a conversation about lies”even white ones”with Heather later. He picked up the newspaper, and while Heather chatted with her grandfather, he scanned the Prophet for the important news. The newly appointed Minister for Magic had been visiting Sweden and someone tried to rob Gringotts some ten years ago, as the goblins guessed from the state of the skeleton. Harry suppressed a smile, remembering his first trip to the Wizarding Bank. He had been there with Hagrid, he reminisced. He turned the page and found himself face to face with Neville’s picture. His friend was advertising some new salve his company produced. Harry remembered Neville’s first years at Hogwarts; back then he could have never imagined that Neville would set up an own business, let alone willingly put his picture into a newspaper. But his new enterprise was thriving, and Harry was really glad that the once shy boy was successful. Of all the people, Neville really deserved it, Harry mused.
Twenty minutes later, Harry put down his newspaper and looked at Heather in disbelief. Heather was having her fourth piece of toast and although at other times she couldn’t eat fast enough, she was eating now at such a slow pace that it was almost unnatural. And then it dawned on him, she was deliberately delaying their departure. He could guess why, but he was also convinced that he was doing the right thing. Her father was dead, but Harry thought that it was important that she kept visiting her mother in the hospital. She had to remember her, in case Hermione woke up. Even if this was very unlikely. But Harry never gave up hope. Because if he would have given up on Hermione, he should have given up on Ginny, too.
“I’ll take you to a Muggle café after our visit, but we have to go now,” he said, casting a look at her that told her without words that he saw through her.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, the hint of tears appearing in her eyes.
“Why not?” he asked gently.
“You won’t understand anyway!” she shrieked and then stormed off.
“I don’t know what to do, Arthur,” Harry said with a tired sigh. “She was so reluctant last time, too.”
“Harry, it is going against nature when a young girl like her has to bear such responsibility,” Arthur explained.
“Yes, I know, but it’s her mother,” Harry argued.
“She doesn’t even recognize me!” Heather shouted from above and Harry noticed an Extendable Ear making its way into the kitchen. He smiled bitterly at the memories that the device evoked. Like every time he saw one of the twins’ gadgets, he had to think about the inventors again. And about the terrible loss they all suffered. There will be no new Weasley wheezes, no new inventions and no laughs like there were when the two scamps were still alive and making fun of everyone and everything. Even of the most feared, most hated, darkest wizard of all times. Harry waved the memory of a purple poster with the flashing yellow letters aside and turned back his attention to Arthur.
“Well, she has a point, Harry,” Arthur admitted with a sad smile.
“Do you want to come to the cemetery?” Harry shouted back, his temper getting the best of him.
“No!” she yelled, charging down the aisle. “I don’t want to go to St. Mungo’s and I don’t want to go to cemetery! I don’t want to…” she wanted to shout but an owl sailed into the kitchen, right on time to end the argument.
“What happened?” Arthur asked, turning his head back and forth between Harry and Heather.
“An owl flew in,” Heather whispered, as the owl dropped a letter into her hands. “And she brought my letter.”
Heather looked at Harry and then handed him the letter with a nervous smile. It was an offer for a truce, and Harry generously accepted it. She drew a deep breath when he read the letter out loud.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Siobhan McAlpine
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc.)
Dear Ms Weasley,
we are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than the 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Deputy Headmaster
Harry left the house and went first to the cemetery. He placed the flowers onto the tombstones. There were too many of them. It was almost too much to bear and he understood Heather that she didn’t want to visit the graves. But Harry knew that it was important that they kept the memories of the dead ones alive. Heather should know where she came from, it was vital that she understood what those graves represented.
“You have to help me, Ron,” he whispered. “I love her, but sometimes I’m at the end of my wisdom.”
And then he had to chuckle. He was asking Ron for help? Ron, whom Hermione accused of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. He chuckled again. It was those memories that kept him coming here all the time. But he also knew that he mustn’t dwell on the past too long. He cast a last look at the grave of his best friend, turned and Disapparated. He went into St. Mungo’s and headed straight to the Closed Ward. He had to endure furtive, curious and sometimes pitying looks and even attempts to distract him from his objective. He was so used to this that in the meantime he already had the chance to figure out how to ignore or avoid them.
“Hi, Harry,” Mandy Brocklehurst greeted him at the entrance of the ward.
“Hi,” he returned the greeting with a smile. Mandy was the only one who didn’t pity him and Harry was forever grateful for that. Yes, he suffered terrible losses, but he wasn’t out for sympathy.
“Heather?” the young Healer asked, looking around.
“I left her with her Grandpa today,” he told her and was thankful that he was spared further inquiry about the why. The previous ten years he never came without Heather, so it must have been quite a shock to see him without the little girl.
“How is Mr. Weasley?” Mandy asked with a compassionate tone.
“Arthur is…. Well, he is coping very well, under the circumstances, of course,” he said, referring to the fact that Arthur Weasley lost his eyesight.
“I don’t want to hold you up, you can go in. Hermione is very quiet today, Ginny was rather cheerful in the morning,” she informed him with a smile.
“Thank you, Mandy,” he responded and then ventured inside.
He looked around and smiled at the sight. Ginny was sitting on the edge of Hermione’s bed and was talking either about birds or flying. Harry couldn’t decide which one. Hermione’s eyes looked haunted and alarmingly empty. This was a minor setback, but Ginny truly looked gay today.
“Hullo, girls,” he greeted them. Hermione’s eyes flickered to him, but then the usual blankness returned and she stared into space again. Ginny stood up and went to Harry. She looked behind his back and then at Harry. If it weren’t for her vacant eyes, he would have said that she looked at him questioningly. Harry was shocked that Ginny even noticed that Heather missing.
“She is with your Dad,” he explained, but Ginny didn’t show any reaction to his explanation. Harry sighed aloud and then felt a hand in his hand. He looked down and saw that Ginny slipped her hand into his. He looked into her eyes and tried to find an answer, but Ginny’s eyes were just as blank as Hermione’s. Originally he didn’t intend to stay long, but he wasn’t able to tear himself away from Ginny. Pulling Harry with her, she went back to Hermione’s bed and then chatted on about birds. Harry always found it somewhat disturbing that Ginny could talk so merrily while her eyes showed no emotion. It was something that even the Healers couldn’t explain.
About two hours later, Ginny let go off of his hand. Harry (with unshed tears in his eyes) bent down, placed a light kiss on her head and then left the ward.
“Oh, I thought you already left,” Mandy told him, but Harry waved her off and Mandy nodded understandingly. She saw the tears threatening to fall. She knew how hard this was on Harry. On that fateful night, when he and Remus Lupin went to search for the last remaining Death Eater they were forced to leave Hermione, baby Heather and a pregnant Ginny alone. Of course, their house was protected but the Death Eater managed to get around the magical fortifications. When Harry and Remus realized that they were mislead and Apparated home, Hermione and Ginny were already engaged in a fight of death over life. The Death Eater knew that he had nothing to lose, so he fought recklessly. He injured Hermione and Ginny badly and then performed the Cruciatus curse on them. They’d gathered that much, what else happened, they didn’t know.
Harry left St. Mungo’s and Apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole. However, he didn’t dare to go home, he knew that Heather would notice his distress and then he would never be able to talk her round to visit her mother and aunt again. And now, that Ginny showed that she was aware of the absence of Heather, he couldn’t risk that.
He went back to the cemetery and sat there at the foot of Ron’s grave for some time when he suddenly felt someone’s gaze on him. He looked up, it was Fleur.
“Hullo, ‘Arry” she greeted him, and her use of his name in that way made him smile. She had been living in England for the past ten years and shed the accent a while ago, yet she pronounced his name the old way.
“Hi, Fleur,” he returned the greeting. He saw that she brought thistle, he knew that this was Bill’s favourite flower. He stood up and wanted to leave.
“You don’t have to,” Fleur told him.
“I have to go anyway,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders and then looked at the six adjoining graves. They were his family and they were all dead: Ron, Bill, the twins and Mrs. Weasley. His gaze shifted to the one on the far left. It was a little gravestone. No dates, just a name: Chloe Potter. He turned and didn’t look back.
“You have to mourn her, too,” Fleur told him as she caught up with him on the way back to the Burrow.
“She never lived,” Harry said, trying to force himself not to cry.
“She lived two hours, ‘Arry. She was your daughter,” Fleur pressed on.
“I know,” he shouted angrily. “Ginny took my hand today,” he confessed then in a whisper.
“And?” she encouraged him to talk on.
“Her eyes were still dead,” Harry told her bitterly.
“It’s a good sign nonetheless. What is it with Heather? She was so strange when I met her in the house,” Fleur said.
“She didn’t want to come, and I don’t blame her. But Ginny had noticed that someone was absent, she even looked behind my back. She remembered, or rather felt that something or someone was missing,” Harry explained.
“That’s great news, ‘Arry!” Fleur exclaimed.
“Don’t tell Heather, please. She would have a bad conscience,” he asked her.
“All right,” Fleur said with a brief nod and then her face lit up. “Nicolas got his letters yesterday.”
“Letters?” Harry asked back perplexed.
“He got one from Beauxbatons, too,” she said, smiling.
Harry knew that Madame Maxime sent Fleur a letter every year; she wanted her to teach Charms at Beauxbatons. Fleur refused every year, saying that she felt home in Britain. Madame Maxime told her that she could Apparate whenever she wanted, but Fleur knew that it wouldn’t be the same feeling. And Nicolas needed his relatives, especially the male ones, she explained to Harry once. Fleur also told him that she would never be able to leave Bill’s grave and Harry understood her reasons. It was hard for him to leave the Burrow.
“I see,” Harry said and then opened the door to let Fleur in.
“And Uncle Kingsley is there, too.” He heard Heather saying.
“She is already persuading him to choose Hogwarts,” Fleur whispered with a smile. “He can choose,” she explained when Harry looked at her questioningly.
“Hello, Nicolas,” Harry greeted the young boy. He was a very handsome boy with strawberry blonde hair, and he was one on the tall side of the family. His character marked him as a Weasley through and through. He was standing next to Heather and it seemed that they’d exchanged their letters.
“Uncle Harry!” he cried and then darted to the young man, letting Heather’s letter fall. He hugged Harry but then suddenly became ashamed of the outburst of emotions and hurried back to Heather.
“If he chooses Hogwarts…” Fleur looked at Harry pleadingly.
“He can come to me, whenever he wants” Harry ended the sentence for her.
“Thank you,” Fleur whispered back and then turned to her son. “We have to decide now, Nicolas, it’s the 30th of July already."
“I know,” Nicolas said and looked at Harry, the affection clearly written over his face. “I choose Hogwarts, Maman,” he finally told his mother.
“Hooray!” Heather exclaimed and hugged Nicolas, then Fleur, her Grandpa and finally Harry.
He was so thankful to have her in his life; he held her close and kissed the top of her head. Life was pretty hard on both of them and every now and then they had their disagreements. It didn’t help either that last year Harry accepted Headmistress McAlpine’s request and took up teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. Charlie took a year off to help his father around Heather, but now he was back in Romania. It was a problem that required a solution. But, they all knew that Heather had a place at Hogwarts. Harry was sure, especially, after seeing her doing some very impressive accidental magic. His only concern remained Arthur. But he knew that he must be careful when talking about the situation in the coming August. His father-in-law was a proud man, after all.
“Oh, I hope that we’ll be both in Gryffindor,” Heather said with great enthusiasm.
“Well, Ravenclaw would be okay, too,” Fleur told her laughing.
“I want to be in Gryffindor,” Heather said, determination shining through her eyes. “All my relatives were in Gryffindor. Uncle Charlie!” she shouted as she caught glimpse of the approaching Charlie. She tore the door open and flew into his arms.
“Heather.” He hugged her and then ran to Nicolas. “Nick!”
Heather took his hand and pulled him inside. Harry greeted his brother-in-law with an appreciative smile. He knew why Charlie came. He knew that he understood the hidden message in his last letter.
“Oh, this is the best day of my life!” Heather exclaimed and Harry looked at the young girl with an understanding in his eyes. She had all her relatives around her and she was promised the wonderful seven years at Hogwarts.
The celebration went on and Harry was glad that everyone could come. All his remaining friends and relatives. The kids were running around in the backyard and the grownups were chatting gaily in the shadow of a tree. Harry sat there, his thoughts far, far away from the Burrow and the birthday celebration. But a big, barn owl startled him out of his reverie, dropping a letter into his lap.
Dear Harry,
You should come as soon as possible.
Best regards,
Mandy Brocklehurst
Harry hurried to Arthur and told him in a whisper that he had to go. His father-in-law nodded, and he left the Burrow. He was eagerly awaited. Harry looked at Mandy to guess what was so important, but the emotions on her face were unfathomable.
“What happened?” he asked her, already dreading the answer.
“Ginny had a nightmare in the middle of the night. Sarah was here, she tried to reassure her, but Ginny never went back to sleep. She is wide awake since that,” she said and then paused for a second. “She asked me questions, Harry,” she added in a whisper.
“Asked?” Harry repeated incredulously, but Mandy nodded affirmative. “What kind of questions?”
“About the baby,” she told him and awaited Harry’s reaction clearly with fear. He lowered his head and a single tear made his way down his sad face.
“What did you tell her?” he asked, his voice hoarse from keeping the rest of the tears back.
“I had to tell her the truth,” Mandy told him, placing her hand reassuringly at Harry’s arm. “She wanted to know. She never stopped crying since that.”
Harry gently detached Mandy’s hand from his arm and then stepped into Hermione’s and Ginny’s room. Hermione was asleep in her bed. And Ginny was still crying; her sobs were daggers boring into Harry’s heart. He sat down and took her hands into his. She looked up, her eyes bloodshot from all the crying. And there was life in those eyes. He saw incredible pain in them and he knew that she must see the same in his eyes.
“It’s true then,” Ginny whispered. Harry couldn’t utter a word so he only nodded. He wanted to take her into his arms, but she recoiled. “I’m…” she wanted to say, but Harry interrupted her.
“It was entirely my fault and I know you will never forgive me, but I need you more than anything, Ginny,” he told her. She looked at him and finally accepted the comfort his arms offered.
“I want to go home,” she told him, throwing an apologetic look at Hermione.
“I’ll ask Mandy,” Harry told her and then stood up.
“Harry?” Ginny’s voice stopped him. “Did you give her a name?”
“Chloe,” Harry answered, his voice barely audible. It was Ginny’s wish and he hoped so much, that the baby would live to bear that name for a lifetime.
“Chloe Potter.” Harry heard Ginny murmur the name, as he left the room.
They didn’t allow her to leave the hospital, though they transferred her from the Closed Ward. Harry stayed with her, and Mandy offered to drop by the Burrow when her shift ended. The Healer-in-Charge visited them the next morning and after a last check-up he released Ginny.
After Apparating home, Harry led Ginny into the kitchen. He felt Ginny’s hand tremble as her gaze fell upon her father.
“Dad,” she whispered and stepped to her father with shaking legs. They hugged each other long. Their tears mingled as they mourned their loved ones together, and Charlie engulfed them both in a hug. At last, their tears dried and Ginny hugged Fleur too, and then looked around for Heather.
“Where is she?” she asked Harry.
“I am here,” the little girl chirped, stepping into kitchen. Harry was touched, on seeing Ginny looking at her niece and then smiling for the first time since she awoke from her catatonic state.
“Come here,” Ginny told her niece and embraced her warmly.
“Auntie,” she whispered and then looked up at Harry with tears in her eyes.
“I want to see them,” Ginny said, after letting go off of her.
Harry saw the resolution in her eyes, but he shook his head nonetheless. He thought it was too early. Ginny was in no fit state to visit the graveyard. Harry knew that it would only upset her and he was convinced that this wouldn’t result in any good.
“Not today,” he said, his voice indicating that he wouldn’t hear any objection. But he forgot that Ginny was a Gryffindor through and through. She wanted to object the moment she heard his refusal.
“No,” Harry said, shaking his head again.
“I’ll go with her,” Heather offered him.
“No!” Harry didn’t give in.
“I’ll go with her, too,” Charlie offered, but it only made Harry angrier.
“It’s not that I don’t want to accompany her!” Harry lost his temper against his will. “The day was tiring enough for you,” he said, looking at Ginny, his tone normal again.
“I want to go, Harry,” she begged him. “It would help ease the pain,” she whispered and then gave his hand a squeeze.
Harry finally gave in. He alone escorted his wife to the cemetery. The others respected his decision and stayed home, cooking dinner for Ginny.
Harry let Ginny say farewell to her brothers and mother. He only joined her when she approached the little grave at the end of the row. Her legs couldn’t carry her anymore and she fell onto her knees. Harry hurried to her and knelt beside her, taking her into his arms. And then he was finally able to say goodbye to his daughter. His tears didn’t stop falling and Ginny comforted him when his body trembled from the crying.