Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

13 August 2022

Harry sat at his desk in his private study with a clean piece of parchment before him. He dipped the long-feathered quill into the crystal ink pot and began to write. It had been his Saturday morning routine for the past two decades, and the rest of the family knew better than to disturb him during this time. He sighed and adjusted his wire-framed glasses. His hand reached back and released his long ponytail from its confinement. Trailing his fingers through his hair, he selected one strand, pulled it out, and laid it on the side of the parchment.

A soft knock startled him; he glanced at the door as it slowly opened. A young dark-haired wizard of sixteen peeked in.

"Yes, Siri, what is it?"

The dark-haired boy stepped into the room, his grey eyes revealing his hesitation. "Father, a Ministry owl left a message for you. I—I thought you might want to know."

Harry took a deep breath, wondering what the Ministry would contact him about. It had been three years since their last run-in. He was somewhat surprised the owl made it through alive having to go through the estate protection spells and Rastaban. "Bring it here, son."

The tall, lanky boy, padded across the muted green and gold rug. It was the third or fourth time he'd ever been allowed into his father's office, and this was the first time he'd seen his father's hair down during the day. He set the sealed scroll on the elaborately carved wooden desk. He turned to leave. "Stay," Harry said.

Siri stared at his father intently as he broke the seal and unfurled the scroll. He heard his father's breath hitch and saw an expression he had never seen on his face: bewilderment. Quickly, it was replaced with his usual intense look—the one that frightened others but not Siri. Harry returned to the note and appeared to be rereading it.

Siri knew that serious look on his father's face that intimidated most students, even though they loved him. He saw his father's jaw muscles twitch. He was almost as tall as him now, but Siri knew he would always look up to his father. He couldn't wait to come of age and let his hair grow. He adored Harry's long, wavy hair, always worn back in a ponytail. Siri would follow the tradition as his older brother James had. The grey speckles in his father's hair had appeared three years ago, as had the lines around his eyes. He jumped when his father spoke again. "Siri, go get your mother and uncle." Those green eyes were filled with fire, and Siri knew better than to question him about the official correspondence.

"Yes, Father," the boy said. He retreated hastily, closing the heavy panelled door behind him.

Harry released a small sob once his youngest son left the room. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Tears he couldn't quite hold back filled them. His chest hurt, and he wasn't sure he could breathe.

Another soft knock came. The door opened. "Harry, are you okay? Siri said…. Oh, love, what is it?" his wife of over twenty years cried as she saw Harry's pained expression. She rushed to his side, and he grabbed her, pulling her close. He buried his face in her bosom and began to weep, wetting her lavender summer robes. She stroked his back, not asking for any explanation, as he gasped for air. She would wait, and she knew he would tell. They had no secrets. She glanced up as the door opened, and Blaise entered the room, shutting the door behind him. She shrugged and gave him a questioning look.

Blaise stepped closer and saw the scroll on the desk, the Ministry seal broken. "Harry, is it the note?"

Harry nodded his head.

"May I read it?"

Harry nodded again.

Blaise picked up the scroll and began to read silently.

"Oh, my God!" Blaise exclaimed, looking up into the still-questioning blue eyes. "Daphne, they are letting Draco out five years early. Harry can bring him home tomorrow."