Jonquils And Lightning

Godric's Hollow

"That's right." Harry leaned against the mare's side and reached up to slide his hand carefully back and forth down the heaving bay flank. "You can do this, Princess. Push!"

When he spoke the word, he flooded his fingers with magic, which struck inwards through Princess's muscles, strengthening them, soothing her pain, and giving her an instinctive understanding of his words. Princess pushed as hard as she could, leaning partially on him and partially on the stable wall and snorting. Harry reached back and touched the soft swell of the emerging colt's head.

"Just a little more," he said, and watched golden sparks flicker from his fingers into Princess's coat, where they shone like miniature stars. "Push."

She did it again, and the colt dipped and dropped a little more out of her. Harry immediately knelt down behind her and pulled up the soft net that he'd conjured hours ago. Princess pushed one more time, and the colt dropped out and into the net.

Probably the floor of the stall, covered with new straw, would have been soft enough, but Harry had lost the first foal he'd ever delivered to injuries. He didn't want to take chances.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured, heedless of the blood and other fluids on his hands as he turned the colt so that he could make sure the cord was broken. He had already started flailing around, the way he should. A little more blood soaked the straw. Harry stepped carefully back, out of the stall, and watched. Princess should be able to take it from here, but she'd delivered a filly with several problems last year, so Harry had wanted to remain close.

Princess slowly turned her head around, her sides still laboring as she pushed the rest of the placenta out of her. She began to nudge and lick at the colt, and Harry smiled a little. The baby, whose sex he already knew because he'd used magic to sense it before birth, lifted his head and moved his feet clumsily. It was hard to tell what color he was right now because of the fluids staining him, but Harry glimpsed a white patch near his nose and a dark stripe down his back.

He began trying to stand about ten minutes later. Harry watched him waver and crash, and removed the net with a simple wave of his hand when it looked like he might get his hooves tangled up in it. Nearly half an hour after Princess had given birth, the foal was standing. Princess started using her nose to shove him around, and Harry leaned on the door of a stall a few doors down to watch.

It looked like the colt had found the teats maybe twenty minutes after that, given the enthusiastic twitching of his tail. Harry relaxed. He used another wave of his hand and quirk of his magic to clean up the mess in Princess's stall. That was all he would do for now. Coming any closer any faster might make the colt anxious.

He slipped out of the stable and sauntered up the starlit path towards Charlus and Dorea's house, feeling a tired satisfaction work its way through his muscles. He'd only stayed up this late because Princess had started to give birth at night and because of the problems she'd had last year.

But it was wonderful to watch new life come into the world, and to feel the spring breeze in his face. Harry was smiling as he entered the kitchen through the back door.

"It went well, then?"

Harry paused when he saw his great-aunt Dorea—well, sort of—sitting up for him at the kitchen table. "Yes, it did. What are you doing up? It's almost four in the morning."

"My great-nephew is up. Why shouldn't I be?"

Harry shook his head and crossed the kitchen to kiss her on the cheek. Dorea reached up to hold his chin in place and looked him sternly in the face. She still had incredibly piercing grey eyes, despite the long ivory streaks in her black hair and the loose skin along her neck. Harry only grinned at her.