The Other Potter

Part 17

The corridors of St Mungo's felt quieter than they should have been.

Harriet arrived first, stepping out of the floo with the dull, hollow calm that had settled into her bones over the last few days. The antiseptic smell hit her immediately, sharp and clean and wrong for a place where so much hurt lived. She folded her arms around herself as she walked, boots echoing softly against the stone.

James was already there, pacing near the ward boundary when she turned the corner.

He looked worse than the last time she'd seen him - eyes red-rimmed, hair untidy in a way that had nothing to do with flying. He stopped short when he saw her, relief flashing across his face before guilt followed close behind.

"Harry," he said quietly.

She nodded. "James."

There was an awkward beat, heavy with everything they hadn't said since she'd left Godric's Hollow.

"I-" James ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I'm sorry. About Sirius. About what he said. I should've stopped it before it ever got that far."

Harriet closed her eyes for a second, exhaustion washing over her - not physical, but the kind that sat behind her ribs and made everything ache.

"You don't need to apologise for him," she said, voice steady but tired. "He made his choice. Those were his words."

James swallowed, clearly wanting to argue, then thought better of it. "Are you... are you okay?"

She gave a small, almost automatic shrug. "I'm fine."

They both knew it was a lie. They both let it stand anyway.

Without another word, they turned and walked together toward the ward.

Charlus lay beyond layers of shimmering magic - wards nested within wards, soft gold and pale blue light humming faintly in the air. Harriet always felt it then, the way her magic pressed instinctively against the barriers, restless and frustrated, wanting to do something.

Charlus was awake.

The sight of his open eyes stole the breath from her lungs.

He looked smaller than she remembered, thinner, skin pale against the white pillows, but when he saw them his mouth curved into a familiar, gentle smile.

"There you are," he murmured, voice hoarse but unmistakably him. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

James laughed weakly, scrubbing at his face. "You don't get to tease us right now."

Charlus's eyes crinkled faintly. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to worry you."

Harriet felt something crack inside her chest.

"Don't apologise, you didn't mean to get sick," she said softly, stepping closer to the ward. "That's not how this works."

"I know," he said. His gaze lingered on her, warm and searching. "Still... I'm sorry all the same."

For a moment none of them spoke. The hum of the wards filled the silence.

Charlus's eyes moved between them, pride and love unmistakable even through the exhaustion. "I love you both," he said simply. "More than I ever managed to say properly."

Harriet's vision blurred. "I love you too," she said immediately, the words tumbling out before fear could stop them. "So much."

James nodded, voice thick. "Love you, Dad."