"Are you having an early lunch then, Sir?" his assistant, Stasia asked. Her name was Anastasia, but she detested the name so Stasia it was. He'd known her long enough that he didn't think of her as Miss Warren. She was only three years behind him at Hogwarts. She, like her sister Myrtle, had been in Ravenclaw with him. Anastasia had fared a little better than her older sister had, but neither girl had been popular while in school. She still called him sir. He liked to think she didn't see it as an obligation all of these years.

He ruffled his son Erik's hair as he kissed Millie hello, brushing a gentle thumb over young Rose's nose. Then he took his son into his arms, fighting back the feeling that washed through him when his son slid his small arms around his neck and rested his head against his shoulder. Erik knew by now Daddy would not let him fall, but the gesture of trust still floored him. He was six now, so probably too big to be carried. Thomas found he didn't mind. He knew, watching his brothers and sister as well as his foster siblings grow up, that eventually Erik wouldn't want to hug his dad anymore so he took it while it was freely given. He remembered when Erik's arms barely fit around his neck.

"I will be probably be gone the rest of the afternoon," he said. "It's Willem's Express day, and we'll be joining my family for lunch afterward."

"Oh, right, how exciting. Graham is…?"

"Sixth year, so like Charlotte and me, they'll hardly see one another. Other than the common room anyway, assuming he's in Ravenclaw, too."

In truth, Thomas had liked it when Charlotte became a student his seventh year. She was a Ravenclaw as well, as Philip and Graham were. He'd bet money on the fact Willem would be, too. The Harrisons were all Hufflepuffs, except the youngest, Randall, who was a Gryffindor. So Benedict and Char had some classes together, Hogwarts seemed to put Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws together for joint classes. Randall and Philip on the other hand had no classes together because Ravenclaws and Gryffindors didn't have joint classes for some reason.

Charlotte (and Benedict) had been young enough that when they got to Hogwarts, she did her own thing and left Thomas alone for the most part. It wasn't as if he purposely ignored either of them. Char sat with him at breakfast more often than not, and none of his friends minded or found it strange she did. Char particularly had taken some of the pressure off of him his last year. His parents were no longer fretting over him and were, instead, more focused on her.

And they had fretted, especially his fifth and sixth years. It was almost as if they'd been expecting something to go wrong. It made it difficult sometimes to study. He managed.

It hadn't mattered that Cole and Jackson were there either. His parents had fretted over them, sure, but it had been different. He knew them well enough to know. They were worried about them after their parents died one right after the other, and that they were both old enough to understand no one but the Prins' wanted to take all four of them in.

Thomas had asked his father why no one else wanted all four kids, and his dad said he could only guess that memories of the Depression with something as significant as a war, a war that was still going on at that time, right on its heels made people cautious about taking on the responsibility of four additional mouths to feed and bodies to clothe.

It made sense, he supposed, but it made him respect his parents more. And lose some respect for a few of the families he knew had only been willing to take one of the boys. No one had even been willing to take two. There were a few families, like the Malfoys, Blacks, and LeStranges that could have taken them in from a financial perspective.

So Charlotte starting was a relief. He felt freer for the first time in years. As free as someone whose parents both taught where he attended school anyway.

His NEWTs hadn't suffered as a result of his parents' obvious concern for him. He had achieved some of the best scores ever achieved by a Hogwarts' student, though only his parents and Millie knew that, as it wasn't something he bragged about. Whether they told his siblings, he couldn't be sure but he doubted it. Simply because they wouldn't want them to think they were in any way inferior or less intelligent than he was. There were things that he knew intelligence didn't play much of a role in. His brother Philip, for example, scored pretty average on NEWTs. As his interests were in writing muggle music lyrics he hadn't been upset. Thomas couldn't pen a poem let alone a song if he needed to!

The Ministry knew of his scores because they would be apprised of his scores. None of his superiors had ever said anything, but he presumed his scores were why he'd gotten the position he'd applied for to this point.

After Hogwarts, he'd gone to Oxford and gotten a degree in Political Science. He'd proposed to Millicent Zonnger before finishing his last year, graduated in the spring of 1948, and promptly married Millicent that August before he'd even applied to the Ministry of Magic. He'd gotten the job he was aiming for in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and was now second in command of the International Magical Office of Law.

He loved it, loved having a finger on the wizarding world as a whole, not just Britain. That his job allowed him to travel once in a while was a bonus. Millie enjoyed going with him and seeing muggle things he'd been exposed to by way of his excursions with his parents over the years. 

Erik Thomas had come an appropriate one year later and little Rose just a few weeks ago.

Unlike his parents, they did not intend on having more. Not that he'd disliked coming from a largish family, but he wanted to be done a little earlier than his parents would finish. He'd seen his father age, knew that not just raising kids but dealing with them every day as part of his profession had taken its toll.

"Well, have fun!"

"Thank you. Is Myrtle coming to visit you while I'm out?"

"I think she might be, yes," Stasia said. Myrtle worked in the Ministry, too. He wasn't entirely sure what she did, it wasn't an administrative position like Stasia's but was more entry level if he recalled.

"Good. Tell her we said hello," he said.

"I will. She'll appreciate that. Bye, Madam Prins."

"Bye, Stasia."

The two most important women in his life, well three including his mum he supposed, were on friendly terms. They did not meet outside of the office or anything, but if Millie was here waiting for him, the two would talk politely. There had been a time or two over the years she and Erik had come to join him for lunch and something had come up at the last minute. Stasia had lunch with them instead. Neither witch had ever complained about those excursions, so he took that as a good sign.

The four of them made their way to King's Cross Station, smiling as they spotted what were obviously several first years looking for Platform 9-¾. It seemed like so long ago he'd made this journey for the first time.

He'd been a little mad at his mum and dad for telling him nothing about what to expect. He didn't overly care for surprises. He realized that they hadn't done it to be cruel or to withhold information from him. They'd done it because he'd spent his whole life to that point basically living at Hogwarts. He likely knew the dungeons better than all of the professors combined even today.

Except his dad.

Somehow, as acquainted as he thought he'd gotten with them, his dad always knew them better. One day he'd get his dad to tell him his secrets, but to this point his dad had not said.

So they hadn't lied to him. They had wanted him to experience the magic the same as any first year did. If he hadn't been in awe as the other first years were, he would have stood out and the friendships he'd forged with Millie, Abraham, Antonia, and the others may not have occurred. He could admit that, like his father, he had a bit of hubris when it came to the knowledge he had. His mother was very smart, too, and in just about every subject (even his dad admitted that more than once over the years). She had a more subtle way about her that didn't seem conceited. Thomas tried, but he didn't always succeed. So, if he'd boarded the Express knowing everything, he likely would have had an attitude. They'd done it for him not to him.

They made their way through the barrier and spotted his parents almost immediately. They'd been married almost thirty years now and could probably still pass for newlyweds. Sure they looked older, but they still held hands when walking more often than not.

And kissed.

Frequently.

To the point people were surprised they stopped at five children.

His father told Thomas that they had offered to adopt the Harrisons, but as Cole and Jackson were already Hogwarts students at the time of their parents' deaths neither had wanted to do that. His father and mother told them the offer was open-ended. If they decided at the age of twenty-two to the youngest's fourteen they wanted to, it would be done.

Thomas recalled the process to this day. His foster brothers being muggleborn, the headmaster had intervened to ensure someone with magical knowledge was assigned their case after their mum took her own life just a month after their father died in the line of duty. The muggle domicile seen from the road was not habitable for eleven. Thomas' mum had fretted that they'd fail their interview when no one else magical was willing to take them together. Even at the age of fifteen, Thomas had been pretty sure the agency would prefer to keep four siblings together if someone was offering to take them who could even remotely care for them. True, his parents got some financial assistance for taking on his four brothers, but that wasn't why they did it. They wanted to ensure the boys all finished their magical education if nothing else.

All four had finished Hogwarts, Randall was the last one having just finished the school year before this last one. All four boys called his parents Mum and Dad, and Thomas was pretty sure his other siblings considered the four Harrison boys as much like their brothers as Thomas did.

He recalled feeling somewhat embarrassed when he was little because his parents were the only adults he knew who did that.

Touched.

Kissed.

Showed affection in front of anyone, not just privately.

Presented happiness to the world.

Obviously liked one another.

Today, they were still very obviously in love, so he supposed whatever they'd been doing for the past thirty odd years worked. He'd never seen either parent look at another witch or wizard with interest.

His dad was how he knew what he wanted to be like as a husband, father, and wizard. Both his parents had influenced his work ethic. He didn't want anything just handed to him. The kiss to Mum's head Antonia Potter had commented about being sweet seventeen years ago was still pretty standard for his dad to do.

It was clear as much as the man loved each and every one of their five children and four foster children; their mum, his wife, was the most important thing in the world to him. The same could be said equally for his mum with regard to his dad. Thomas never took offense to that, and didn't think any of his siblings did either.

If they even noticed.

Yes, they focused on raising their children and helped with the grandchildren, but they always made time for themselves. He knew they took weekend excursions, and more than once he and Millie had taken Philip, Graham, Willem, and Randall during the summer so his parents could do something just the two of them for a night or two. It was never more than a night or two either. That was his parents, unwilling to make any of their children think they would prefer not to be home with them.

He recalled when he was about thirteen or fourteen when he realized that his parents were likely having relations outside their house at times during the summers. He'd been somewhat horrified at the time. He and his friends swam in those ponds! They fished in them! And yet, he realized now that he himself was married, that it was their stress relief, their alone time. His dad had a career with a strict schedule. His mother's was even stricter some days as she also ran a farm and raised nine kids. They weren't in the habit of leaving their kids even when they were old enough to be left alone. It wasn't in them to do that, so they took time for themselves alone when and how they could.

There were times he wished for a pond on his property so that he and Millie could do the same!

Charlotte's eyes brightened as she spotted their parents heading their way. Philip wasn't too far behind in noticing them. If he knew Philip, which he did, as soon as he said hello to Thomas he'd be off to converge with his friends. Cole, Jack, Ben, and Randy were here, too. He liked that they joined them in these things. Willem was the baby, so he'd never known life without the Harrisons living with them. Thomas had known Cole since he was thirteen, down to Randy being five when they came to live with them.

Philip was probably the only one of the Prins' kids who was going to live his life more in the muggle world than the magical world. He, at nineteen, had already had more than a handful of songs he'd written chosen for various artists to record. He liked rock and roll music and he, apparently, wrote it well. He'd also submitted portfolios for record labels to consider him for cover or insert art for muggle albums. He was currently going to muggle university for a degree in music. That was their mum's influence.

"We totally support you wanting to write music, create art, or do both. We not only want but believe that you will and can succeed. However, music and art can be fickle businesses, you must have something to fall back on. Even if it's teaching music or art!"

Thomas had to admit he'd agreed with the point his mum had made. Philip was what people called a protege, he could pick up and play just about any instrument known to man. So it was foreign to him to think he might not succeed. Neither of his parents were suggesting he wouldn't, just that he had to have something to fall back on. Just in case. Philip also hadn't lived through the difficult times of the Depression, so his parents were speaking from recent experience, knowing bad things sometimes happened, not being unsupportive.

Charlotte was a private healer. She had a patient she took care of in their home. The beginnings of a courtship had blossomed between her patient's grandson and Charlotte, but to this point no formal intentions had been declared.

He was sure he would have heard about it, from his mum or Charlotte, if Sigmund had officially asked to court her.

She liked to draw and paint in her spare time and was quite good. She had a show with some other artists she knew shortly after graduating Hogwarts, which had been pretty successful but she hadn't done much with it since. She'd wanted to focus on her career first.

"I'll have time to paint when I'm married and have children. I want to make a difference now!"

He didn't remember their mum having a whole lot of time to paint, but it'd been a bit of a different world then. They'd gone through a Depression and a war not too long after that. Thomas couldn't remember a time that he'd ever gone to sleep hungry or wondering if they were going to have to move out of their house next month, or the next day.

These were things he'd taken for granted, but listening to Millie talk of her childhood once it was clear they felt more than friendly affection toward each other. Well, he realized his parents had done well for not just him but his brothers and sister. They'd never wanted, and his parents never flaunted that fact.

They led rather quiet lives, and did not talk about the various excursions they went on as a family. He and his siblings learned from them, rarely talking about what they did or where they went over breaks unless specifically asked. They rarely went to the same place twice, with New York being the exception because he loved baseball. And the Yankees. Thomas was careful, he knew Charlotte was as well, with how much he revealed to whom.

His parents gave generously, though, and always discreetly. Mum always had more crops and meat than she knew what to do with. It always found its way to homes that could use the help. The same with the clothes and shoes the kids had outgrown.

It was always done quietly, covertly.

He and his siblings learned quickly never to point out to someone else that they recognized a shirt or a set of robes. No one wanted it rubbed in their faces that they needed help. They certainly didn't want to hear from their friends or classmates that they didn't need help.

Their foster siblings were all gainfully employed, or pursuing university level education, as well. Cole worked at the Ministry, they had lunch once in a while. Jack worked at a muggle university teaching English. Ben worked at Hogwarts as the Muggle Studies professor as of this year. Randall was starting his second year of university. Thomas thought he'd heard his youngest foster brother talk about becoming a muggle doctor.

He didn't know how to put it into words, other than to say that he was proud of his parents.

Their parents evidently hadn't supported their interest in one another, so they'd really gone it alone from before the time his mum was eighteen. And had him less than a year later. They never once made him feel unwanted or as if he was a bother. Other kids who had relatives? The Prins' had every faculty member of Hogwarts as honorary aunts and uncles. He thought that was pretty special and had never felt he missed out on anything.

Erik was snuggled comfortably against Thomas' shoulder until he heard Grandpa's voice. Then the boy wanted none of his father. Thomas would be offended, but he had to admit Erik Thomas had good taste.

"Grandpa," he said, running to him once Thomas set him down.

"There's my boy," his dad said, picking the boy up like it was effortless. "Are you here to see Uncle Willem off to school?"

"Yes, Sir. Daddy says it'll be my turn soon, too."

"That it will, in five years. Had you been born after September first, it would be six years but you were born just in time."

"Rose, too?"

"Yes, Rose, too. She has eleven years, though," he said, glancing at the baby in question held in Millie's arms. She used one of his mum's sling-like items when Erik had gotten a little older than this, and imagined she'd do the same with Rose.

He set his hand on his grandpa's cheek, obviously wanting his focus on him not his baby sister. Thomas chuckled. Young Erik was still trying to figure out what being a big brother was all about. And whether it was worth it.

"She's just a baby," he said.

"You are right. She is just a baby. She's your sister. It's a big responsibility being a big brother. Your father was a very good one. He was a little older than you when his sister was born. They get a lot of attention, but that doesn't mean you won't get any. You are being good to her, right? Helping your mother so that she can rest and take care of little Rose? We want her to grow into a strong and healthy witch, like your grandma, mum, and Aunt Charlotte, right?"

He seemed to think about this and nodded.

"There's my boy. At lunch you can tell me all about your studies with Grandma."

Just like the children and foster children before him, Erik Thomas made his way to Hogwarts every day and went to the little classroom off Mum's office to learn. Not only was she good at it, but she clearly enjoyed it. Thomas had often wondered why she hadn't become a teacher or a professor herself. He'd asked his father that once, but he hadn't gotten a very clear answer from him.

It was one of the few topics of conversation that his father seemed … unwilling to expand upon. Thomas wasn't sure why but had learned not to ask. His father had been more than communicative with him on every other subject over the years. He supposed everyone was entitled to privacy on something.

"Okay," he said.

"You don't need me to hold you while you say hello to Uncle Willem, do you?"

"No, Sir," he said.

He wrapped his hands around his grandpa's neck then, much as he'd done to Thomas' earlier, kissed his jaw. Thomas didn't hear it, but he saw his son mouth the words ‘love you, Grandpa' as he pulled away and his father let Erik down.

"Love you, too, Erik."

He watched as his dad leaned in and kissed his mum, brushing his cheek against hers and whispered something in her ear. She glanced at her feet and then shook her head, whispering something in response. Thomas recognized it as amusement not anger, saw a blush on his mum's cheeks that made her look twenty again.

His dad approached him then. "I was going to suggest taking Erik for the night, but your mother has overridden me and said the weekend might be better."

"Oh?" Thomas said.

That kind of surprised him because Mum loved spending time with Erik. He'd spent more than a whole month with his parents right before and after Rose's birth and had come home barely noticing the new baby in the house because he was so excited about milking cows and goats. He'd also caught and prepared fish, which Grandma and Grandpa had cooked over a fire they'd made with magic. (Thomas remembered the first fish Char had caught that Dad had prepared that way for them and it was pretty impressive. He'd done it before when Thomas was two, but he didn't remember that. Thomas imagined Erik would remember it for years to come, too.)

"She has reminded me that it has been nearly thirty years since we've been alone in our own house. I think we will take advantage of that for today. Saturday at Hogwarts? Uncle Albus is always happy to see you and hear what you're up to. We could keep him until Monday or even Tuesday? Hell, he could stay all week if Millicent can use the time. There's no shame in that if she does, Thomas. We still have two spare bedrooms in our quarters, and he'd be there anyway doing his schoolwork with your mum."

"Don't you have to be at Hogwarts for the opening feast tonight?"

"You have a newborn. We assume lunch will be a rather quick affair. The opening ceremony and feast will be hours away, Son. We will have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves with a childless house and be in time for the welcoming," he said, and it was Thomas' turn to blush.

"I'm sure Saturday will be fine. I'll mention it to Millie. Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome. It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Willem you mean?"

"Yes," he said. "I'll be teaching my youngest son and eldest grandson at the same time for two years."

"Are you going to keep teaching that long?"

He'd never asked, but just assumed after thirty years, more than that by the time Erik Thomas started Hogwarts, that he'd be ready to go on to other things. Thomas suspected that he, and his mother, stayed at Hogwarts primarily for the children than any real deep desire to be employed at Hogwarts for decades.

"Oh, I'm not ready to retire and be a hermit quite yet, Thomas. I will go the apothecary route one day. I'll know when I'm ready. Or I suppose, more accurately, your mother will."

Thomas chuckled, though he imagined there was some truth in that. His dad had a lab on their property that Thomas was pretty sure most potion masters would be envious of. It was truly ahead of its time, but his parents were that way about most things.

Thomas knew his dad had eyed space in both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley over the years. When he'd been younger, he assumed he'd follow in his dad's footsteps. It hadn't turned out that way. Neither man seemed upset about that fact. Thomas was relieved, truthfully. Disappointing his father wasn't something he ever aspired to do. He'd been with his dad more than once when he'd taken a look at various properties available. He was pretty sure he could pick out what would work for his dad's needs as well as his dad could.

"You know, I can't picture Hogwarts without you."

"No?"

His dad sounded so surprised. Did he not realize how much of a difference he made? How enjoyable he made something most everyone entering his classroom presumed would be boring. His whole life there was Hogwarts. And there was his mum and dad. They just went together. Education was so important to both of them, not just when it came to their children either. Every child that walked through the castle doors fell under his parents' umbrella of learning.

"No. You were my dad, so I'm biased but. I'm not the only one that I've heard talk about you being the best professor they had."

"I am truly flattered."

"It's the truth. You were strict, but fair. You helped and encouraged. I know Madam Sprout has said your classes on ingredient collecting aided her knowledge of plants."

"That is good to know. She is a more than capable herbologist."

Sure enough, Graham had gone on to be with his sixth year friends. Philip tagged along, knowing a lot of Graham's friends. Willem hugged their mum and lastly their dad goodbye before heading to the Express himself. There were tears in his mum's eyes, but not like there had been the day he first boarded the train. There never had been either. Not like that. His dad told him it was because he was the oldest. The first one to go. He supposed that made sense.

"You know when I fell in love with you?" Millie said from beside him.

"No."

He really didn't. He was rather oblivious until his dad had pointed out Millie seemed fond of him and would probably like to be given the opportunity of going to the Halloween dance with him in their sixth year. Until then he'd just assumed she was his friend.

"Right here," she said. "Well, not here but on the train. You gave me the chocolate."

He smiled, laughing a little at the memory.

He remembered.

He remembered the looks she'd gotten from a few people, but they'd stopped as soon as it was clear their group accepted her. Her family had been pretty poor was the impression he'd gotten. They did okay now, but evidently the Depression hit them pretty hard. She hadn't said it outright, but it was things she didn't say or the way she said things that clued him in. He knew that day on the train she had wanted a treat, but didn't want to take one because she had not been able to contribute to their pool of them.

"Oh, well, you clearly wanted the chocolate."

She had, too.

"I had no money. No one had ever done anything like that so nonchalantly. I was expecting you to point out I hadn't bought anything or that my robes weren't new."

"Were your robes not new? I didn't even notice. And you have more than paid me back for that piece of chocolate, Mil."

He saw his dad nod slightly before stepping away. He did glance back at them, and Thomas thought he saw moisture in one of his dad's eyes. He had to be seeing things, though, because his dad did not cry. Not to say he was a stoic jerk or anything, but tears over a compliment he paid his wife? His dad paid his mum compliments all of the time.

Merlin, his father had just moments ago told him they were not going to take their oldest grandson with them after lunch because they wanted to go home and have relations. Okay, he hadn't said that outright, but that was the implication.

Thomas wasn't stupid.

He watched as his dad slid an arm around his mum, watching as Willem finally got to board the train. His dad said something to his mum, the train was too loud and they were far enough away so he couldn't hear but his mum looked at them and smiled. She nodded at her father, leaning in to kiss him before making her way to them.

"There's my granddaughter," she said. "How is she?"

"She's doing all right. I swear Erik was a better sleeper."

"They are all different," his mum said. "I will ask to hold her at lunch, though. It's been over twenty years since I've held a baby girl."

"I'd expect no less." Millie and his mum got along. Millie's parents were nice, but always seemed as if they felt out of place among the Prins'. Thomas was lucky. He knew more than a few people at work who did not have at least cordial relationships with their in-laws.

"What about me?" Charlotte asked as she made her way to them.

"Who says I was talking about you," their mum teased.

"You don't have any other girls!"

"Yes, well, talk to your father about that, Willem was supposed to be that."

"Really?" Charlotte and Thomas both said. They both stared at their dad when he approached their group with Erik in his arms. Whatever Grandpa was saying, Erik was enthralled.

"What?" he asked, evidently realizing they were all staring at him.

"You wanted Willem to be a girl?"

His dad shook his head with a bit of a smirk on his lips.

"Well, I'm perfectly happy with the way things worked out. Whatever your mother's telling you is rubbish. You can't believe a word she says. If I've taught any of you anything, that should be top of the list."

Thomas, Char, and Millie all laughed at that. Erik Prins had never taught anyone that about Marie Prins. He stood up for her every chance he could, until it got to the point people seemed to accept Marie Prins could stand up for herself.

"Did you know Mum and Dad met when she was eleven?" Thomas asked his sister.

"They did not," Charlotte said. Her eyes darted between their parents, clearly interested. Thomas was surprised she hadn't known that until now.

"That's what he told me. Dad said she annoyed him."

Charlotte and Millicent looked from Thomas to the couple in question. That smirk inched a little wider here and he brushed his cheek against the top of Erik Thomas' head.

"And again I'm perfectly happy with the way things worked out, but she was in fact very annoying! The questions she'd ask me! And insolent."

Mum laughed then, sliding her hand into his and squeezing it.

Thomas had asked years ago why they had no grandparents. They never even really talked about their parents. They were both only children, so they had no aunts or uncles either.

It turned out their parents did not get along and neither approved of them courting let alone marrying, so they ran away and got married. Shortly after, both of their parents were killed in a boating accident. Why the four of them were together on the same boat, his parents had no idea. They hoped that it was a sign that, in the end, they were able to set aside years of feuding and get along knowing that their disagreements and arguing led to their children fleeing their homes.

Thomas suspected their father had been the victim of some pretty severe abuse as a child. He'd never said so, and Thomas would never ask, but all of the kids had seen their father's scars and knew they weren't just normal, run of the mill accident-inducing scars.

They didn't come from the dueling he did either.

Willem had surmised when he was a boy that their dad had been a pirate before meeting their mum.

Thomas wondered if it wasn't some potioning mishap, but when he had pushed, his father had gotten a … pained and hard look in his eyes that Thomas had never seen before or since then. Not even when he'd asked about Mum not teaching.

He'd never asked again and, as he'd been pretty little himself, he hoped - now - his father forgave that his curiosity gave way to asking a question that wasn't appropriate for a child to ask an adult.

"Shall we go to lunch then? Your mum and I do have plans this afternoon to get to."

"You do?" Charlotte asked. His sister was clearly surprised. His parents rarely had plans that meant rushing any of the children along.

"You do not want to know," Thomas said.

Charlotte looked confused, but Thomas merely shook his head at her. He wasn't sure he'd ever tell her what his father had implied they had for plans.

"You did not tell him!" Mum said.

"He's old enough for me to speak the truth to. He has two children, we have nine. I think he knows at least how the five we created together came to be by this point."

"Dad!" Charlotte said.

"Oh don't Dad me, you're a healer. You know full well how they come to be, too."

"But Mum's like fifty!"

"I didn't say we were going to make any more. If you think your mother and I have only been intimate five times in…"

"Erik," their mum said.

"I didn't think he'd tell Charlotte!"

"Let's go before I decide to be mad at you."

"Have you ever been mad at him?" Millie asked.

Interesting question that, because Thomas could not recall a time he could think of as his mother being mad at anyone really. Not truly. He'd seen her angry when a bull got loose or a goat stepped on her.

"Mad. No. Frustrated. Yes, of course. We understand each other. We are fairly like-minded and knew what needed to be done. Even when I've been frustrated I can't imagine life without him."

"That's very sweet," Millie said.

"I told you I had a good example," Thomas said.

"You did," she agreed.

Whether she was agreeing to the fact he'd told her or that they were a good example, he wasn't sure. Both? He'd be okay with that, because both were true. He'd totally lucked out in the parents department. He knew that.

***

December 1997

Albus waited until the students assembled in the Great Hall quieted down. This was a huge feather in his cap, if he did not say so himself.

"Students, we have a most excellent surprise for you before you head home for the holidays. I hope what you are about to see will give you plenty to think about in how seriously you take all of your courses here at Hogwarts. And understand that there are things taught here that could become fulfilling hobbies or careers."

With a wave of his hand the doors to the hall were opened and in walked Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. He stifled a smile at the murmuring that erupted throughout the student body.

There were only one or two duelers in the world more reputed than these two. He hoped one day he might be able to talk others into participating in a demonstration like this one. For today, though, this would do. Most students had heard stories of Alastor's exploits, but none had seen him in person.

Both wizards bowed to one another before taking their dueling positions and stances.

"May the best wizard win," Albus said, eyes twinkling. He glanced over the student body, noting that every single student was watching with interest.

Yes, this was a good way to end this year's first term indeed.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com