Lily Potter

Third Year

Defence Against the Dark Arts

Counter-curses

I am most looking forward to learning about counter-curses. Almost everybody in my entire family has been cursed at one point or another. I would like to learn more about how counter-curses are created and who massively mucked up and failed to create them for some of the worst curses. It makes no sense! Why do jinxes that are harmless fun have counter-curses but curses that will actually murder you completely have none? Our book says that the Killing Curse does not have a counter-curse because there is no counter-curse for death. I say: let's fix that! What a terrible idea. Just because there has never been a counter-curse before does not mean somebody can't make one. I want to make one and I want to learn how. If somebody had been brave enough to do it, the world would be very different. For one, Lord Voldemort would probably be dead right now or at least very old with no friends and only one talent (talking to his pet snakes). I would have four grandparents instead of two. My dad, Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World, best dad and treacle tart maker, would not have his wicked scar, but he would probably still have plenty of other ones because he is always doing brave and reckless things. My mum would have six brothers instead of five. My almost-brother Teddy Lupin would have parents. Many of my classmates would still have family members, too.

In summary, I would like to learn how to do what all the past incompetent wizards failed to do. There is always a way and I think wizards gave up too soon. I think everybody just started to say 'a counter-curse is impossible', so everybody just stopped trying. If everybody (witches) tries really hard again, someone (a witch) will figure it out. And then nobody has to be murdered again. I also think Dark Magic should be taxed. It would help many of the problems that our Minister for Magic, Hermione Jean Granger, complains about over dinner.

"Should you be marking Lily's essay while you're furious with her?"

Harry looked up. He watched his wife cross over to him, her eyes exhausted, her arms crossed tightly.

"How'd you know it was Lily's from all the way over there?"

"She's got distinctive handwriting," Ginny answered. She sat down beside Harry on the uncomfortable sofa. She looked around the quiet reception area. "You ran away to the labor and delivery ward. Interesting choice. Probably says something, but I'm too tired to even try."

Harry shrugged. He bowed his head back over his daughter's essay.

"I don't have long," Ginny continued. "My mum is with Al. His arm finally stopped bleeding. I just sent James, Lily, and Scorpius back to Hogwarts. But I wanted to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine," he answered automatically. Ginny gave him a dry look. He tried again. "Okay. I'm...frustrated. Worried. Frightened," he admitted.

She examined his eyes and he examined hers. She nodded once. He smiled softly as she reached over, pried his quill from his hand, and laced their fingers together.

"She's not doing too well, is she?" Ginny asked lightly, and at first, Harry thought she meant Lily. He sighed.

"No, and frankly, Gin—"

She wasn't talking about Lily. She was staring at a terribly young woman sitting across from them, in the throes of a contraction, rocking back and forth in her chair while repeatedly telling both Merlin and Dumbledore to do something vulgar to themselves.

"She's got to be younger than eighteen. Where are her parents?"

"I don't know," Harry said. He waited a few more moments. Ginny was still watching the girl in concern. He had such an intense tangle of emotions bearing down on his heart that he wasn't sure where to start; he wasn't even sure he wanted to talk about it yet. And yet... "Is she all right?"

Ginny looked back to Harry. "I don't know, it looks like her baby's about ten minutes away from crowning, I don't understand why she's still out here..."

Harry furrowed his brow. "What? No. Not that girl. Our girl. Our daughter."

"Oh! Right, sorry," Ginny said, giving her head a shake. She shifted in the seat to face Harry. Her knees brushed his. "She's fine. And do you know what else?"

"What?" he sighed.

"I'm really proud of you. I came here to tell you that I'm really proud of you."

She squeezed his fingers affectionately. He didn't feel like she had any reason to be proud of him, but his heart automatically lightened at those words. When she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth, he felt a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Why?" he finally demanded. "I screamed at our daughter and nearly reduced her to tears—again."

The heaviness was back on his heart. He realized it was guilt and shame.

"Because you recognized that you were getting too angry and instead of remaining there, at the risk of saying something you didn't mean, you walked away. I've been trying to teach myself how to do that for ages."

Harry almost didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't keep anything from her.

"I only left because I was about to cry."

"Because you were getting upset. My point still stands."

Harry studied her tired eyes. He looked around them, and when he felt certain nobody would overhear, he lowered his voice and continued. "I feel like I'm losing her. Lily. I feel like...our relationship is breaking apart, and I don't know what to do. I feel like the harder I try to keep her safe and keep her close, the riskier and more withdrawn she gets. And the thought of her...the idea that she could end up..."

His eyes burned so intensely that he had to squeeze them shut. His throat seared. His little Lulu—not so little anymore. When had that happened? His little Lulu, who didn't want to be his little Lulu anymore. Harry didn't know what to do with that. There were few things in life as jarring as the experience of raising a daughter. To him, it felt like it was only yesterday that she'd been sitting atop his shoulders, proclaiming to anybody who would listen that her daddy was her best friend. Now, she kept things from him—frightening things. Dangerous things. She wouldn't let him protect her. She sought out the things that she needed to be protected from. And Harry couldn't understand it. It felt like the shift had happened overnight. He felt like she had changed at a speed he couldn't touch. She no longer identified as Little Lulu, but Harry still saw her that way. Harry still loved her that same way—he loved her like shoulder rides, butterfly kisses, giggling Sundays, 'you're my best daddy' 'you're my best little girl'. When he looked at her—fierce, clever, proud, arrogant at her worst and larger than life at her best—he saw the same things he'd seen the first time he'd held her: goodness and hope. So how was he meant to cope with the thought that he could one day be without her, despite how desperately he tried to keep her safe?

Ginny saw the tears building before Harry could do much to blink them back. He bent forward, sinking into her embrace as she pulled him into it. He hid his face away in her hair and breathed. Nothing could calm him quite as well as her flowery scent, so he remained in place and repeated the cycle until he felt less liable to publically break down in tears.

"I know. I know, Harry. It terrifies me, too. And that's why I'm really glad that you yelled at her, because you're right: she's got to learn this lesson. It doesn't have as much of an impact when I do it; she used to me yelling. She listens when you scold."

"Not well enough, obviously. Where did we go wrong, Gin? Why can't she just...be a normal, safe thirteen-year-old girl? She shouldn't be smuggling dragons or pulling dormitory heists. She should be...I dunno...practicing Quidditch and playing Chess or—whatever normal kids do. All I ever wanted for our children was the luxury of a normal life—something we never had. The blessing of being normal children! And our kids are...not normal."

It was a mildly hilarious understatement, but Harry still felt too ill to laugh. Ginny leaned back and looked at him.

"No, they're certainly not," Ginny agreed. And then, without any additional words, she reached up and lightly whacked Harry's head.

"Oi!" he complained automatically.

"That's for saying you wish our kids were normal—how boring, don't wish that on me. They'd be miserable; we'd be miserable; three normal kids and two mad parents? We'd have nothing in common. Face it, Harry. They never had a chance at being normal anyway with our genes."

"But if they were normal, they wouldn't keep getting themselves into these dangerous situations."

"If they were normal, they wouldn't be James, Albus, and Lily. That's just it, Harry. Lily is Lily. Lily is exactly what she is and that's all she'll ever be. We can't change that—I wouldn't want to. And I know you wouldn't want to, either. It isn't our job to change who she is. It's our job to teach her better ways to deal with her frustration and her drive. And we're going to fail her if we keep insisting that she just 'be normal' because that's nevergoing to happen. I knew that from the first time she kicked, honestly."

"So what do we do?" Harry said miserably. Frustration was overtaking his guilt. "How do we keep her from getting hurt? Because that's all I want. I just want her to be safe."

"Me too. That's all I want for all of them," Ginny agreed. Her eyes shifted back to the woman across from them. When Harry followed her gaze, he saw the pregnant teenager was now digging her nails into the arm of the chair, hard enough to leave marks. Ginny continued. "I don't know what the answer is. We've got this same problem with all three. How do we find the balance between protection and trust? How do we give them space but also keep them from being harmed? I don't know, Harry."

He didn't know, either. Just when he thought he'd finally gotten the hang of the parenting thing, something new happened that made him feel sick with worry and generously incompetent.

"This is difficult," he found himself saying. His voice was nearing a whine. "Being a dad is so difficult."

"Yeah, so is being a mum," Ginny agreed.

The pregnant girl gave a sudden, loud, and devastating whimper as if she too agreed. Harry instinctively flinched, his mind flying back decades to the times it'd been Ginny in that much pain. Ginny shook her head, her eyes on the girl as well.

"This poor girl...where is her mother?" she hissed.

"She's been alone the entire time I've been here," Harry shared.

Ginny looked horrified, and without another word, she stood. Harry watched with intermingled disbelief and faint affection as she promptly crossed over and sat beside the girl, her hand landing lightly over her spine. "You've got to breathe with the contractions, not against them—let me show you."

While Ginny coached the stranger through contractions, Harry tried to return to marking Lily's essay, but he wasn't getting very far. He kept thinking about Ginny's words. You've got to breathe with them, not against them. And he certainly wasn't a young girl about to birth a tiny human being. But the words held meaning for him, anyway. Was that the answer? Instead of finding a balance between over-protection and negligence, were they supposed to...work with their kids, instead of against them? Work with their secretive schemes and plans, instead of trying to stop them entirely?

Harry's musings were interrupted by a loud sob from the pregnant girl. He looked over to her. She was now sobbing directly into Ginny's breasts, all semblance of personal space forgotten in the throes of her pain and anxiety. Ginny patted the girl's hair, a bit taken aback.

"It's all right, Mara," Ginny said.

The girl cried even harder. "What if it dies?!"

The words were muffled into Ginny's top, but they were shrieked so loudly that Harry made out every word with no issue. Ginny looked alarmed.

"Oh, it won't! Don't say that! Don't even think like that. You're going to give birth, the baby will be fine, you'll be fine. You'll read a book, take a bath, take a breath, and before you know it, your baby will be jumping from broomsticks midair, starting student organizations, kissing boys, smuggling dragons, going back in time...you name it, your baby will do it...you won't believe some of the things it'll do...bit maddening, really..."

The girl lifted her face. She hiccupped so hard that her hair slipped from its messy ponytail.

"But my baby's a boy," she finally said.

"Yeah, I can tell from the way you're carrying," Ginny said, with a comforting pat to the girl's back. Harry wasn't following the conversation as well as Ginny was; he wasn't sure why the girl was arguing about her baby's sex. Ginny seemed to understand, though. "My baby that grew up to kiss boys was a boy, too."

Harry snorted. The girl was not comforted by Ginny's words.

"Oh, I c-c-can't do it! I don't know how to be a mum!"

A bit late to consider that now, Harry thought. He made a quick correction to Lily's essay.

"Neither do I, and I've been one for seventeen years. I managed all right. All three of mine are healthy, happy, and well-adjusted. Well, okay...two out of three are healthy...one nearly died...but he's almost recovered! And...I'm positive that at least one is genuinely happy. And...you know, all three are...moderately well-adjusted...some more than others..."

The girl gave a loud wail. Ginny winced.

"Look, the only thing you've got to know how to do is love your child, and judging by how worried you are for your baby, I think you've already managed that. Just love them and you can get through everything else, I promise." The girl's cries broke off as another contraction overtook her. Ginny continued patting her back. "Is there somebody I can Floo? Somebody who can be here with you?"

Because he was her husband, Harry was able to easily read the subtext to that. Is there somebody to take care of you so I can go take care of mybaby? She was beginning to look anxious and antsy, the way she'd been getting anytime Albus was 'alone' for more than five minutes (because, in her mind, being with anybody but her made Albus 'alone'—Harry was working on that).

"My m-m-mum is here," the girl responded.

Both Harry and Ginny turned and glanced around the room. Just like Harry had thought, there was nobody else.

"Er...yeah? She is?" Ginny asked. She looked over and met Harry's eyes, hers widened. He grimaced. The girl was clearly delusional.

"Y-yes, only, she's giving birth right now! I c-couldn't stay back with her, I got too scared," the girl continued.

What the hell? Harry was still trying to wrap his head around the logistics of that while Ginny replied.

"Oh. Oh, I see. Er. Both having babies at the same time...exciting? Er—"

Ginny was interrupted by the opening of the double doors behind them. A Healer stepped out.

"Mara? Your mum is done and ready to see you."

Mara jumped up immediately.

"Thanks," she told Ginny. She crossed towards the door. And then she stopped. She stood still for a moment and then turned around, an incredulous expression on her face. "Wait. Are you..." her eyes scanned the room, landing at once on Harry. They swelled to three times their previous size. "You are! And there's Harry Potter! Have you been here this whole time?!"

"Oh, look at the time, Harry," Ginny said quickly. Harry was already scrambling for his items and cramming them back into his bag. Mara was still staring blankly, and she probably would've continued to, if another contraction hadn't overcome her. Ginny walked over and helped Harry finish gathering his things, they waved, wished Mara luck, and then they ducked quickly into the safety of the lift before word got around that they were in this reception area. They'd managed to stay relatively unbothered by leaving places quickly—before too many people noticed they were there—and Harry wanted it to remain that way.

As soon as the lift doors shut, Ginny turned to Harry.

"I'm really concerned about that girl," she said.

"I'm concerned about the parents. Two newborns in the family at once? No, thanks anyway."

"Ugh, that reminds me: yesterday James said he and Nora decided they want eight children."

"Eight," Harry deadpanned. He truly couldn't imagine. He was overwhelmed with three. "He's either joking or mad."

But at the same time, he was thinking about those days—the early days of parenthood. That wondrous rush of perfect joy at the sight of a new baby. As traumatizing as the newborn experience could be at times, there were few things quite as special. He reached out and wrapped his arm around Ginny's waist; she leaned against his side.

"That girl—did you hear what she said when I was reassuring her that her baby would be okay? After all the things I said her baby could grow up to do, it was kissing boys she was the most concerned about. Not a good sign. The prospect of your child smuggling a dragon or going back in time should probably always alarm you more than the prospect of them kissing a boy."

"She was panicking and in pain."

"Eh, I'd argue that makes you even more honest. And that baby's head is huge and her hips are narrow...I should send her flowers and a cheese hamper...maybe that parenting book Hermione gave us that we never read...maybe some of Al's morphine..."

Harry laughed. He gently poked her side. "Are you the baby expert now? You can see the sex and the size of the head without any imaging spells?"

"Yes I am, precisely. She's carrying low—it's a boy. She was so far along that you could make out bits of the baby through her skin—it had amassive head."

"Well, your skills are going to come in handy when Nora has eight babies."

"Oh, Merlin..." Ginny muttered, a haunted look in place. It remained for the rest of the walk.

Albus was not in his bed when they walked in. Molly looked up from her place at his side.

"He insisted on walking," she told them, an edge of annoyance in her tone. "I tried to talk him out of it, but that proved to be more difficult than I'd anticipated."

Their son was leaning heavily into Molly's side, pale-faced and panting. It was clear that he wasn't so much walking as being dragged. But his jaw was set in familiar determination, and after a few moments of catching his breath, he unsteadily straightened up to stand on his own. Harry's stomach churned as his legs began visibly trembling. Ginny flinched at Harry's side and took a half-step forward automatically. Molly barely managed to catch Albus underneath the arms as his legs buckled beneath him. Harry hurried over as Molly stumbled. He reached for Albus's waist to pull him upright, but Albus shrugged from his grasp.

"I can do it!" he argued.

"Al, your circulation, you can't—" Ginny tried to say, but Albus interrupted her.

"No, Mum! I can do it, okay?! I'm not a baby!" A pause. "And it's not my circulation that's the problem. The Healers are wrong. Which means I can work