Harry Potter And The Legion Of Ghosts, Chapter 4: Storytime
Warning: DH spoilers through the end of the book.
Notes: Thanks to imaginarycircus and elaboration for betas and feedback.

Chapter Four: Storytime

That afternoon, after returning from Hogwarts, Harry left Teddy to nap (or pretend to nap, as Teddy insisted) and went out into the courtyard of his home, pacing back and fourth across the lawn. Here were the cots, unmoved from last night; here was the grass where Remus would have been sitting. Not a blade was crushed or out of place; and here, where Sirius had stood, there were no footprints in the springy turf.

He played it over again in his mind, confused. He'd seen Remus twice now, and the first time Remus had spoken to him, had seemed happy to see him again. The second time he'd been upset because Harry could see him, which didn't make any sense. He'd called Sirius for help, hadn't he? And what had Sirius said? Something about "him" sleeping. Which "him", Harry or Teddy? And why would Sirius call for help too, and -- when he had, Harry had heard Arthur shouting for him in the floo network.

Didn't Sirius want to see him? Why wouldn't Sirius want to see him?

Harry felt the old ache that he had always associated with Sirius, even when he was only thirteen. They'd never been allowed to see each other for very long, a Christmas holiday at the most. A part of his love for Sirius was always going to be the yearning to see his Godfather, to really properly be a family, as ripped up as the pair of them were.

Harry wondered idly if he would see his father and mother, and then put the thought quickly from his mind. It was better to skim the surface of some things and let the depths lie; his memories of what he'd seen in the Forest the day of Voldemort's death didn't bear detailed scrutiny. They hurt too much even now, and Harry didn't want to go back to the dark, scary place they'd all lived in for a while after that final battle.

He dipped his fingers in the cool, clear stream and ran them through his hair, over his face. If he was having some kind of nervous breakdown because of the fight in The Corner, he needed to get help. What if he went actually insane? He might hurt Teddy. He'd be locked away like Neville's parents, and the last thing in the world he wanted was for Teddy and Ginny to see him that way. Perhaps he should warn Andromeda now.

If I ever go mad, don't let Teddy see me.

Now, that sounded mad. And yet...

"Kreacher," he called, and the house-elf appeared with a bang. He examined Harry and immediately held out the towel hanging over his arm.

"Master Harry Potter wants drying off," he said, almost severely. Harry smiled.

"No thanks, Kreacher; it's cooling my head," he said. "I have some orders for you, though."

"Kreacher lives to serve," Kreacher cooed, bowing deeply. The fake locket and chain hanging around his neck jangled.

"And you do very well," Harry said. "You know Teddy's here."

"Master Theodore Remus Lupin is sleeping," Kreacher said promptly.

"I know. I want you to know that the most important thing to me in the world is that Teddy is always safe. As long as he's here, his safety is more important than mine, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master Harry," Kreacher said, looking anxious now.

"So if I start acting...strangely, or if I try to hurt Teddy -- I don't mean play-wrestling, I mean, really hurt him," Harry said. "If you think Teddy's in danger, I want you to take him away, back to Andromeda's house."

Kreacher frowned.

"I know, I know you think I'd never hurt him, but just in case, okay?"

"Kreacher is always looking out for Master Theodore Remus Lupin," Kreacher repeated uncertainly. "Kreacher is treating him like his own dear Master Regulus. Better than his own dear Master Regulus. Kreacher is a good elf! Mistress Hermione is always saying so!"

"Yes! Of course," Harry said. "I know that. I just wanted to make sure. About Teddy."

"It is as Master wishes," Kreacher said, still sounding bewildered and unhappy.

"Thank you. That's all."

Kreacher disappeared again, and Harry rubbed his face. That could have gone better.

There were soft footsteps on the patio, and Harry almost didn't turn around, afraid to see if anyone was actually there. When he did, he was glad; Teddy was standing just outside the door, clutching a book to his chest.

"Done with naps," he announced. "Storytime."

Harry dropped into the grass at the water's edge and gestured Teddy forward, watching as he made his unsteady, ill-balanced way across the lawn. He tripped once or twice but righted himself before falling, finally dropping into Harry's lap. Harry turned them slightly so that his feet could dangle into the stream, inching Teddy forward until the boy's toes touched the cool water.

"Read it, please," Teddy instructed.

Harry looked down at the book and sighed inwardly. Teddy had several favourite books, but it seemed like this one was read to him far more than necessary.

"Harry Potter and the Bad Man," he read aloud, opening the book.

"By Cara Foxglass," Teddy added. He'd memorised the book long before he could read; Andromeda had once related, much to Harry's embarrassment, how she'd caught Teddy "reading" it to an array of stuffed toys and Quidditch action figurines.

Harry sighed. Why he had ever given permission for the book to be written, he didn't know; he must have been out of his mind.

"Once upon a time there was a boy named Harry Potter," he read.

"Like you!" Teddy pointed at him.

"Yes, like me. When Harry was a tiny baby there was a very bad man. But Harry was a smart baby and told the bad man -- "

"GO AWAY, BAD MAN!" Teddy boomed.

"And the bad man went away," Harry continued. "And Harry went to live with his -- what's that word, Teddy?"

"Muggle," Teddy said, looking disgusted that Harry would ask an easy one.

" -- Muggle family, who were not very nice," Harry read. "But when Harry grew up he went to -- and that word?"

"HOGWARTS!" Teddy squealed.

"Where he had lots of adventures." Harry turned the page. He didn't like this drawing; it showed a little boy pointing a sword at a giant snake, but the snake looked almost friendly, not at all like the Basilisk. Harry felt sort of sorry for the snake in the drawing.

"He fought with snakes and talked to some of them," he read. He did like the next illustration, which showed a large toad with chalk in its hand and a tight, fluffy ponytail on its head. "And he laughed at his Very Bad Teacher."

"Who...looooooked like a...tooaaaad," Teddy sounded out the words. Harry kept trying to leave that part out, but Teddy never bought it.

"And he made very good friends," Harry said, turning the page again. Teddy put a hand on the page to hold it down.

"Aunt Ginny," he said, pointing to a redheaded girl. "Uncle Bill," he continued, pointing to Ron. "Aunt Hermione, Harry, P'fessr Neville, Mister Kreacher," pointing to each in turn. Kreacher looked a lot more jolly in the drawing. Harry had insisted they put him in. "Big big Haggid, Aunt-Luna-who-I-never-met."

"And who's that?" Harry said, tapping a picture of Remus, which looked nothing at all like Remus, really. Next to him, Tonks looked a little more like Tonks, but mainly because of the neon-pink hair.

"Daddy and mum," Teddy replied.

"But then the Bad Man came back," Harry said, indicating the next picture. Voldemort did not look at all like Voldemort, either. He looked a bit like a villain from some old black-and-white movie, with a curly black moustache and a hideous black hat. "And this time, when Harry said, 'Go away, Bad Man!' the Bad Man said no."

"Oooh."

Harry turned the page. "So Harry's friends all said, 'Go away, Bad Man!' but the Bad Man still wouldn't go away."

"He was very bad," Teddy added.

"Harry Potter said to the Bad Man, 'I am Harry Potter. I am brave and kind and I always eat my dinner and I never tell lies.'" Harry winced at the moral, awkwardly wedged into the story. Besides, he didn't always eat his dinner. "And then Harry's friends all said, 'We are good and brave! Go away, Bad Man!' and what do you think the Bad Man did?"

"Turn the page!" Teddy cried. Harry turned the page. All that was visible of Voldemort now was the edge of a black robe and one shoe, as he stepped off the page.

"The Bad Man went away forever," Harry read. The rest of the page was charmed to reflect whoever was looking at it; Harry saw Teddy's face and his own, looking up at him. The words below it suddenly gutted him in a way they hadn't before.

"What would you do if you met a Bad Man?" he read. "You must always be brave and tell him -- "

"I am Teddy Lupin," Teddy proclaimed. "And I am Brave and always..." he consulted the book, "...eat my dinner and I never tell lies. Go away, Bad Man!"

Harry turned to the last page, which showed a drawing of himself, still looking more like a boy than a man, the lightning-bolt scar on his head highly visible.

"Because Harry Potter was a good boy, and you are a good boy too," he read, and closed the book.

***

Harry took Teddy back to Andromeda's house the next morning, just before lunch; it was a calculated move, arranged to give Harry another few minutes with his godson and make sure that Andromeda was feeling less anxious about losing him. She invited him to stay, of course, and led the way into the dining room, disappearing into the kitchen while Harry helped Teddy up onto a chair and poured from the water carafe on the table.

"Did you have a good time with Harry, Teddy?" Andromeda asked, appearing with a bowl of fruit in one hand and a plate of bread and cheese in the other. Andromeda always did excellent meals, though they weren't what Harry was used to after Hogwarts and the Dursleys. She passed him a chunk of crusty bread, cutting Teddy's into pieces for him. Teddy grabbed an entire bunch of grapes, plopping them on his plate.

"Did," Teddy said, squashing a grape before eating it. "Can we have a kitten?"

Andromeda glanced at Harry, who was trying to make a sort of cheese sandwich with his bread.

"He met McGonagall," Harry said. "I think he thinks all cats can turn into people now."

"Maybe for Christmas, if you're good," Andromeda told the boy, offering him a chunk of bread smeared with some soft cheese. Teddy accepted it, daintily put it on his plate, and went back to squashing grapes. "Were you good?"

Teddy looked at Harry.

"He was great," Harry said. "We had a good time, didn't we? Tell Gran where we slept."

"We camped," Teddy said. "Harry showed me stars an' told stories."

"And kept you up past bedtime, I'm sure," she said, smiling. "Eat your bread, darling."

Harry was glad to see her at ease again, and he knew she was glad to have Teddy back. He would admit to being a little relieved himself; he loved Teddy, but living with him could be exhausting. And he had other matters on his mind, things he couldn't attend to while looking after a small boy.

Teddy recounted his adventures with Harry as they ate, making a mess of his lunch and seemingly getting as much on his face as he got in his mouth. When Andromeda announced that he'd need a bath before naptime, Harry was happy to quietly kiss them each goodbye and fade away while Teddy protested his bath and Andromeda scolded him gently. He let himself out through the front door instead of the floo, waiting for the snick of the lock behind him before he continued down the steps to the pavement. He needed a walk to clear his head and settle his digestion.

He'd gone a mile, perhaps two -- it was easy to lose track of distance, with his mind elsewhere -- when a tiny owl fluttered down and landed in the hand he automatically put out. Pigwidgeon hooted cheerfully and dropped a note in his hand, pecking his thumb affectionately before fluttering away again. Harry always wondered how this must look to Muggles, but he supposed Pig was at least more discreet than most owls, tiny as he was.

He unfolded the note and smiled.

Harry,

Hermione has something to ask you and I need lots to drink (desk duty is really boring). Leaky Cauldron round six? Asked Ginny too. Be there or be fired, cos I know you don't have work or anything.

RW

He tucked the note in his pocket. It was nearly two, and he wasn't quite certain what the afternoon would bring; better do it now. If his head and stomach weren't settled, they never would be until he got this over with.

He didn't care for Apparation, but it was fast and convenient; ducking down an alley and checking to make sure nobody was watching, he closed his eyes and felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tight tube, until he reappeared with a bang in the foyer of the Ministry for Magic.

Over the past four years, people had got used to seeing the Boy Who Lived walking the hallowed halls of the Ministry, and nobody paid him much mind anymore. The first time he'd come in, the day of his training orientation, he and Ron had nearly been mobbed by people who wanted to wish him well, people who wanted to tell him how they'd been rooting for him when he was on the run. Harry wanted to believe they were good people, but the little voice in his head never stopped reminding him that it was easy to root for a hero when you didn't do anything yourself.

He made his way to the Auror offices, stopping to say hello to workmates and people he knew from other departments -- a handful of Hermione's friends, a few old Gryffindor comrades. Ron was on the front desk, and his face brightened when he saw Harry approaching. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be social with Ron just then, but it wasn't as if he had much choice.

"Hi!" Ron said, beaming. "Harry! What're you doing here? I thought the Healers said no work."

"It's not really work," Harry said, leaning on the edge of the desk. "Got your owl -- I'm free tonight. You hear back from Ginny?"

"She says make it six-thirty," Ron rolled his eyes. "Can't ever just say 'yes' to anything."

"Well, she said yes to me," Harry said smugly.

"Yeah, smartarse. Why're you here? Not just to see my handsome face, is it?"

"Broderick's, actually. I know he's in today, it's his meeting day. Think you can get me in between courses?"

Ron checked the scroll to his left. "Yeah, in about half an hou -- "

Even as he said it, the door to Broderick's office down the hall flew open and someone bolted out, fleeing for his life down the corridor.

"I WAS ENFORCING THE LAW WHEN YOUR MUM WAS WIPING YOUR ARSE FOR YOU!" Broderick's voice drifted out. "OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A DEATH-EATING WHORE!"

Ron and Harry watched as the man snatched up his hat from the stand near the door and bolted.

"Someone's try at a plea-bargain didn't go well, I guess," Ron said.

"POTTER! WEASLEY! NO FRATERNISING! YOU GET OUT, AND YOU, GET TO WORK!"

"Well, you could see him now, his schedule just came free," Ron said. Harry sighed.

"Auror Broderick, sir..." he said, walking down the corridor. He knocked on the half-open door.

"What is it?" Broderick asked. "Aren't you supposed to be recovering from near-death?"

"I was wondering if you had a minute," Harry said, leaning in the doorway.

Broderick ran his hands through his hair. "Sure. I do now. Sorry, Potter, meetings make me a bit mad."

"I know, sir. I wanted to talk to you about my debriefing." Harry closed the door behind him, coming forward. Broderick sat down, watching warily.

"You remembered something more?" he asked. Harry looked at him, surprised. He knew when he was being offered an out -- but he also knew when he was walking into a trap.

"No, sir," he said, seating himself. "I lied to you."

Broderick reached into a drawer on his desk and took out a silk evidence bag. It would have been easier, Harry always thought, just to use plastic bags like Muggles did, but of course far less elegant. Broderick touched his wand to the bag and it turned clear. Inside was the gold dagger that had, only a few days before, been at Harry's throat.

"I wondered why there wasn't any blood on the blade," he said, placing a parchment roll on top of the bag. "I haven't filed your debriefing yet. Why don't you tell me what actually happened?"

Harry took a breath. "Well, it's just like it is in the report, except...he nicked me, and then I saw him hold up the knife. We both saw the blood get...into the blade somehow."

"That's the story he's given, but the only part you left out," Broderick said. "I assume there's more to your side."

"Yeah, I...saw something, I'm not sure if it was real. I saw someone take his hand and keep the knife away from me."

"Someone else was there?" Broderick asked. "He didn't say."

"I don't know if he saw her. I don't know if I really did. What I...think I saw was...a woman named Nymphadora Tonks."

Broderick's brow furrowed further. "The Auror who died at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"Yes, sir. She has a posthumous commendation."

"I remember that. Married a werewolf, didn't she?"

Harry swallowed. "I'm their son's godfather."

"So you were close? I didn't know the woman but I hear Kingsley Shacklebolt held her in high regard."

"I think so. She and Shacklebolt are sort of...the reason Ron and me became Aurors."

Broderick nodded. "Go on."

"I saw her holding the knife away from me, and I thought I heard her tell the shopkeeper not to do it -- that he was in enough trouble already. That kind of thing."

"Well, in moments of stress -- "

"That's not all," Harry interrupted. Broderick's disapproval hit him like a wave, but he pressed on. "I also saw Sirius Black, in the doorway, calling for someone to help me."

"Black."

"Yes."

"Your godfather. The convicted criminal."

"Not convicted," Harry said sharply. "There was never a trial. And he was exonerated after he died."

"My apologies. The Auror perspective of the war was a little different from yours, Potter. Keep talking."

"After I went home, a few nights after you debriefed me...I saw him again. And Tonks' husband, Remus Lupin. That might have been a dream, it was pretty late at night. And it can't really be them -- all three of them are dead."

Broderick was silent for a long time, his fingers tapping slowly on his desk.

"Not ghosts?" he asked.

"Not to my knowledge, sir. They've never been seen before."

"Well." Broderick touched the bag again, and the dagger disappeared behind the white silk. "This will help Forensic Demystification in their studies of the dagger, I suppose. I'll file your report tonight before I leave."

"And...my punishment?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I don't think we need to go into that. I'm going to have you speak to one of those...Healer blokes, the Mentalists. That's punishment enough for anyone." Broderick gave him a mirthless smile. "Don't fuck up again, Potter. And don't talk about this to anyone until we go to trial -- the last thing I need is gossip that the star witness is a little funny in the head."

"I won't," Harry promised, feeling as if something binding up his ribcage had loosened and he could breathe again.

"You can go."

"I -- just one more question?" Harry asked.

"Don't press me, Potter."

"The dagger -- it's going to Demystification?" Harry blurted. "Doesn't anyone know what it is?"

Broderick sat back. "We haven't the faintest so far. It's not in any of the standard manuals, looks like it's one of a kind. Might be Goblin-made. Shopkeeper said he's had it in the storeroom, hadn't figured it out yet. Said he bought it off a chap and heard he went mad later, so he thought it was better to keep it locked up."

"Mad?" Harry swallowed.

"Relax. It's not hexed, they know that much."

"Who'd he buy it from?"

Broderick checked the parchment scroll. "Fellow by the name of Diggory."

Harry froze. "Amos Diggory?"

"That's the name -- you know him?"

"I did, once. I knew his son," Harry said, feeling nauseous. "Cedric. Voldemort killed him."

Broderick hissed a little through his teeth; he was of the old guard who still didn't like to hear the name. "Well, he's in the long-term ward at St. Mungo's now. I reckon Demystification will see if they can get any sense out of him."

Harry felt the urge to get out of the small office, to bolt from the building, but he stayed put. "Reckon so."

"They may want to talk to you, too. I'll put them in touch if it's needed."

Harry nodded. "May I go, sir?"

"Go on. And no time-wasting with Weasley, he's on desk for a reason."

***

"God, it's so incredibly boring," Ron said, sliding his butterbeer from one hand to the other along the table. "I mean, when he said desk duty, I thought, how bad could that be?"

"Bad?" Harry asked, sipping his own drink.

"Everyone wants something they're not going to get, and when they're not shouting at me it's so quiet I can hear my brain dribbling out my ears from boredom," Ron replied. "What'd you need to see Broderick about?"

"Just a few fixes on my debriefing. Wanted to see how the case was coming, that kind of thing," Harry said. "I'll tell you about it sometime. Broderick's got me gagged until the trial. What'd you and Hermione need to talk to me and Ginny about?"

"Better wait till Hermione gets here," Ron said darkly. "She's got Plans."

"Plans?"

Instead of replying, Ron cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted over Harry's shoulder. "OI! Ginny! Over here!"

Heads turned as the young woman wove her way through the evening crowd at the pub; Ginny Weasley was a Quidditch pro and Harry Potter's fiancee, and anyone who didn't follow Quidditch or the Society page could still tell a beautiful redhead when they saw one.

"Evening," she said, dropping down in the booth next to Harry and scooting close. She annexed his butterbeer and took a sip. "How are you, do-nothing?" she asked Harry.

"Better before some woman stole my beer," he replied.

"I'd steal Ron's, but he might call mum."

"Hey!" Ron said, indignant.

"He's having a hard life," Harry said. "He's on desk duty all day and his girlfriend's about five minutes away from standing us up."

"She is not," someone said, cuffing his head from behind. Harry looked up to see Hermione leaning over the edge of the booth. "Some of us work for a living," she added.

"While you're up, get us a butterbeer?" Harry said innocently. Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know the rules. Last one to the table brings the next round."

"I will, but NOT because you asked," she said. "Instead I will do it of my own free will because I have good news."

"She's not pregnant, is she?" Harry whispered to Ron as she flounced off. "That's not your good news?"

"Merlin in short pants, I hope not," Ron said.

"You Weasleys are sort of fertile..."

"Heard that too," Hermione said, returning with several butterbeers. "You're marrying one, you know."

Harry took one of the bottles and uncapped it, grinning. "So I hear you have big news for us, Hermione."

"Well, sort of." She settled down next to Ron. "I guess Ron told you about us not getting married."

"Hermione told me about it," Ginny added to Harry.

"But Molly's bound to fuss about it a little, and Ron wants something official, even if it's not a big ceremony," Hermione continued.

"You said you did too," Ron told her, blushing.

"So I do. So, we thought we'd have a moving-in party," Hermione said. "Get everyone together, a nice dinner, basically a wedding without the actual symbolic-bondage-of-women part."

"Hermione, I'm not getting symbolically bondaged," Ginny sighed.

"Kinky," Harry murmured. Ginny elbowed him.

"Sorry. Present company excepted," Hermione continued. "But we didn't want to overshadow the wedding, you know?"

"When are you thinking about having it?" Harry asked.

"September sometime -- we have to find a place, first, and get moved in, but the end of September ought to be all right," Ron said.

"That's fine," Ginny said. "The wedding's not till December."

"Yeah, but...it'd come first and all. So we can wait until March or something if you'd rather," Ron offered.

"Don't be an idiot," Harry said. "We don't care, do we?"

"I don't," Ginny said. "Maybe it'll distract Mum from the wedding a little."

"Fat chance." Ron grinned at Harry. "You're all right with it, then?"

"Yeah, definitely," Harry said.

"To Ron and Hermione, may they never wed," Ginny said, raising her butterbeer. They toasted cheerfully. Harry suddenly felt normal -- with his arm around Ginny, drinking to his friends' health, he felt as normal as anyone in the pub.

It was a good feeling.