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Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the Ministry of Magic's grand atrium, brushing soot from his formal robes as Ted and Andromeda Tonks materialized behind him. The gleaming black tiles beneath his feet reflected the peacock-blue ceiling where golden symbols shifted and changed like an arcane light show.
"This place might be crawling with idiots, but is quite pretty to look at, don't you think so Harry?" Ted asked. "Though between you and me, that Fountain of Magical Brethren is propaganda at its finest. No goblin ever looked adoringly at a wizard like that."
"Ted," Andromeda warned quietly, though her lips twitched with amusement. "We're here on business, remember?"
Harry nodded, straightening his posture. He'd spent the previous night rehearsing what he would say to Minister Fudge, and Andromeda had coached him on proper etiquette for official Ministry meetings. He felt confident, but the weight of this meeting pressed on his shoulders. Without Liquid Diamond, his enhanced talismans for the Italian Ministry would remain incomplete.
"Wand inspection, please," droned a bored-looking security wizard at a desk labeled 'Security.' Harry once again didn't take his wand, knowing that it contained a living Nundu Core, and he still remembered the way Tonks had felt after holding it just for a minute.
The wizard squinted at Harry with sudden recognition. "Potter? Harry Potter?"
"That's him," Ted confirmed cheerfully, handing over his own wand. "We have an appointment with Minister Fudge at eleven."
After Andromeda and Ted retrieved their wands, they made their way to a bank of golden lifts. Harry noticed several Ministry employees stealing glances at him, whispering behind their hands.
"Your reputation precedes you," Andromeda murmured, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Remember, you've earned your fame, no longer just the Boy Who Lived."
Harry nodded, grateful for her reassurance. The lift ascended with a rattling clank that reminded him oddly of Gringotts' carts, though with less terrifying speeds and sharper turns.
"Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff," announced a cool female voice as the grilles slid open.
The Minister's office corridor was carpeted in thick purple with gleaming mahogany doors on each side. At the far end, a witch in elegant navy robes sat at a desk outside what Harry presumed was Fudge's office.
"Ah, Mrs. Tonks," the receptionist greeted them. "And Mr. Tonks and Mr. Potter. The Minister is expecting you. Please go right in."
The Minister's office was ostentatiously large, with enchanted windows showing spectacular weather that Harry was certain didn't match the dreary November day outside. Cornelius Fudge stood from behind an imposing desk, his lime green bowler hat perched on a stand nearby.
"Andromeda! Ted! And young Mr. Potter!" Fudge exclaimed with hearty cheer that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Delightful to see you all. Please, do sit down."
Harry's attention was immediately drawn to the woman sitting in a chair to the right of Fudge's desk. She resembled nothing so much as a large, pale toad dressed entirely in pink, from her fluffy cardigan to her patent leather heels. A black velvet bow sat atop her curly mouse-brown hair like a large fly poised to be snapped up by her wide, slack mouth.
"This is Dolores Umbridge, my Senior Undersecretary," Fudge introduced her with a gesture. "Dolores, I'm sure you know of young Harry here—the talisman creator I mentioned."
"Of course," the woman replied in a high-pitched, girlish voice that made Harry's skin crawl. "How... quaint to meet the boy behind these trinkets everyone's so excited about."
Harry forced a polite smile. "They're more than trinkets, Madam Umbridge. They're Class Four Protective Artifacts, certified by the Department of Magical Artifacts."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Umbridge's face, but she maintained her saccharine smile. "Of course, dear. How impressive for someone your age."
Fudge settled back into his chair. "Indeed! Quite the enterprising young wizard, aren't you, Harry? Your talismans have become something of a sensation among our Auror corps. Dawlish tells me yours saved him from a rather nasty cutting curse last month."
"I'm glad they're proving useful, Minister," Harry replied, keeping his tone respectful despite the condescension emanating from both Ministry officials.
"Useful and profitable!" Fudge chuckled. "Your business arrangement with the Ministry—fifteen percent commission on each talisman—must be filling your Gringotts vault nicely."
Harry felt a flicker of irritation. This meeting wasn't about his earnings, but he kept his expression neutral. "The arrangement has been fair to both parties."
"And I understand the Italian Ministry has commissioned you for a special line of talismans?" Fudge leaned forward, his interest suddenly more pointed.
"Yes, Minister. Their Auror division is dealing with a series of ancient Etruscan burial curses. They've asked me to develop an enhanced version of my standard talismans, you were there yourself." Harry almost wanted to remind him how he had tried to flirt with Minister Lombardi, but kept those words behind his mouth.
"Fascinating, fascinating," Fudge murmured. "International contracts at your age. Most impressive."
Umbridge gave a small, skeptical "hem, hem" before speaking. "Surely, Minister, we must consider whether a child—even one who has shown some aptitude—should be engaging in international magical commerce without proper oversight? There are regulations, after all."
Ted Tonks straightened in his chair. "Harry's business affairs are managed through Gringotts with appropriate legal counsel, Madam Umbridge. Everything is entirely above board."
"Of course, of course," Fudge said hastily. "No one's suggesting otherwise."
Harry decided it was time to get to the point. "Minister, I'm actually here because I require a material for these enhanced talismans—Liquid Diamond. I understand the Ministry regulates its sale."
"Ah," Fudge said, exchanging a quick glance with Umbridge. "Yes, Liquid Diamond. Fascinating substance. Quite rare."
"And quite necessary for my project," Harry added. "I've been advised it's the only material that can properly bridge Norse and Etruscan magical systems in a single talisman."
Umbridge's smile widened unpleasantly. "I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that the Ministry has recently acquired nearly the entire available supply for a critical security initiative. Most unfortunate timing."
"I heard as much," Harry replied. "Which is why I've come directly to you, Minister. I'd like to purchase a small quantity—fifty milliliters would be sufficient for my current commission."
"Hem, hem." Umbridge's fake cough sent a flash of irritation through Harry. "Minister, I really must point out that Liquid Diamond is an extraordinarily powerful magical substance. Surely it shouldn't be entrusted to... well, to a child, no matter how precocious."
Harry kept his tone even despite his rising annoyance. "With respect, Madam Umbridge, the Italian Ministry specifically commissioned me based on the effectiveness of my existing talismans. They're counting on me to deliver."
"Perhaps they weren't aware they were dealing with a twelve-year-old boy?" Umbridge suggested with faux concern. "International translation spells can be so imprecise."
"They were quite aware, Madam Undersecretary," Andromeda interjected coolly. "Minister Lombardi was thoroughly impressed with Harry's abilities. As were our own Aurors, who continue to praise his talismans' effectiveness in the field."
Umbridge's smile tightened. "Be that as it may, these enhanced talismans you describe would require extraordinary skill—the kind that comes with proper training and years of experience. Perhaps we could arrange for a professional talisman crafter to fulfill this contract under the Ministry's supervision? For the boy's own safety, of course."
"Boy?" Harry echoed, unable to contain himself. "I designed the talismans that your Aurors currently rely on, Madam Umbridge. The same talismans that, according to reports, have saved many lives in the past six months. I assure you, I'm quite capable of handling Liquid Diamond."
"Beginner's luck can be misleading," Umbridge said with a little titter. "We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself playing with such dangerous materials."
"Playing?" Andromeda's voice turned sharp. "Harry's talismans have been independently tested by Gringotts' curse breakers and deemed superior to 'professional' models in three key metrics: spell absorption capacity, warning sensitivity, and durability under sustained magical attack."
"Indeed," Ted added. "Which is why the Italian Ministry specifically requested Harry's work rather than that of your so-called professionals."
Umbridge's face flushed an ugly shade of pink. "I hardly think a former Black, no matter how... reformed," she glanced dismissively at Ted, "should be lecturing the Ministry on matters of magical safety."
A tense silence fell. Harry saw Andromeda's knuckles whiten where she gripped her handbag, though her face remained a mask of calm dignity.
"Now, now," Fudge intervened, looking uncomfortable. "Let's not get off track. Dolores, I believe Mr. Potter has demonstrated sufficient expertise in this field. His talismans have indeed proven quite valuable to our Auror force."
Umbridge pressed her lips together but fell silent.
Fudge turned back to Harry with an expansive smile. "As for your request, my boy, the Ministry would certainly be willing to part with a small quantity of Liquid Diamond, given the, ah, special circumstances."
Harry felt a surge of hope. "Thank you, Minister. I appreciate your understanding."
"Of course, of course," Fudge continued, tugging at his waistcoat. "There would be a premium, naturally, given the current scarcity. The market rate for Liquid Diamond is typically 500 Galleons per milliliter..."
"Which is already quite steep," Ted noted.
"Indeed, indeed," Fudge agreed. "However, given our recent acquisition costs and the, ah, administrative overhead involved, we would need to set the price at 2,500 Galleons per milliliter."
Harry nearly choked. "Five times the market rate?"
"The Ministry has incurred significant expenses," Umbridge said primly. "We can hardly be expected to operate at a loss, can we?"
Ted leaned forward, his usually genial expression hardening. "Minister, with all due respect, that's highway robbery. Harry needs fifty milliliters—you're asking for 125,000 Galleons for material that should cost 25,000."
"An additional 100,000 Galleons for 'administrative overhead' seems rather excessive," Andromeda observed coldly.
Fudge shifted uncomfortably. "These are extraordinary times, requiring extraordinary measures. The security initiative is of utmost importance."
Harry did some quick mental calculations. Even with the profits from his Ministry contract and the advance from the Italians, he couldn't afford that price without emptying his family vault. And something about the gleam in Umbridge's eye told him this wasn't just about money—it was about control, about putting him in his place.
"I see," Harry said slowly, rising to his feet. "Well, I wouldn't want to compromise the Ministry's security initiative. Thank you for your time, Minister, Madam Umbridge."
"Harry—" Ted began, but Harry gave him a subtle shake of the head.
"No, it's alright," Harry said, maintaining a calm he didn't entirely feel. "I'll simply have to inform Minister Lombardi that I'm unable to fulfill our contract due to material constraints. I'm sure she'll understand that the British Ministry's security concerns take precedence over international cooperation."
Fudge's smile faltered. "Now, my boy, there's no need to be hasty—"
"I wish you both a pleasant day," Harry continued, extending his hand to Fudge with perfect formality. "And good luck with your security initiative."
Fudge shook Harry's hand automatically, looking slightly bewildered by the turn of events.
Harry smiled pleasantly. "Thank you for the offer, Madam Umbridge. It's always enlightening to see how different magical administrations operate. Minister Lombardi mentioned that in Italy, they believe talent flourishes best when not... smothered by those who've yet to demonstrate comparable achievements of their own." He maintained perfect eye contact with her. "I find cross-cultural perspectives on mentorship quite fascinating, don't you?"
Fudge nodded enthusiastically, missing the barb entirely. "Indeed! International magical cooperation! Very important!"
Umbridge's toad-like face tightened, pink spots appearing on her cheeks as she understood perfectly that Harry had just politely suggested she was an unaccomplished bureaucrat trying to stifle those more talented than herself.
"How... insightful for someone your age," she replied with a strained smile.
As they left the Minister's office, Ted placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "That was quite the exit."
"Was it too much?" Harry asked quietly once they were in the lift.
"Not at all," Andromeda said, pride evident in her voice. "You stood your ground with dignity. Fudge won't forget that."
"Neither will Umbridge," Harry noted grimly.
"No," Andromeda agreed. "But sometimes making the right enemies is as important as making the right friends."
The lift rattled downward, and Harry stared at his reflection in the polished brass panels. He'd known the meeting would be challenging, but he hadn't expected such blatant obstruction. Why was the Ministry so determined to hinder his work for the Italians?
"There are other ways to get what you need," Ted said as they crossed the atrium. "Other sources."
Harry nodded, his mind already turning to alternatives. E
"I'll find another way," he said with quiet determination. "I promised Minister Lombardi those talismans, and I intend to deliver."
One Month Later
A month after the disastrous Ministry meeting, Harry sat cross-legged on the floor of an abandoned classroom that Professor Flitwick had allowed him to use as a workshop. Around him lay the scattered remnants of his latest attempt—fragments of silver, vials of mysterious substances, and parchments covered in calculations and runic diagrams. His latest prototype talisman sat on a small pedestal before him, looking deceptively ordinary despite the hours of work poured into it.
Itisa prowled around the perimeter of the workspace, her golden eyes fixed on Harry with unmistakable concern. The disguised Nundu had barely left his side in the past weeks, as if sensing his growing frustration and exhaustion.
"I know that look," Harry told her with a sigh. "And yes, I've been at this too long today. But I'm close to something, I can feel it."
The classroom door creaked open, and Nymphadora Tonks peered in, her hair a festive red and green for the approaching holidays. "Wotcher, Harry! Still trying to blow yourself up, I see."
"It's not explosive," Harry protested, though he unconsciously rubbed a small burn mark on his wrist from yesterday's attempt. "Just... temperamental."
Nymphadora snorted as she dropped into a chair beside him, her combat boots leaving scuff marks on the ancient stone floor. "That's what Mum said about father's motorbike before it caught fire over Surrey." She picked up the prototype talisman, examining it with curious eyes. "So this is the famous Italian commission? Doesn't look that different from your standard model."
"The differences are in the internal enchantment structure," Harry explained, taking it back carefully. "See these tiny runes along the edge? They create a harmonic resonance between Norse protective magic and Etruscan counter-curse frameworks."
"If you say so," Nymphadora replied with a grin. "I'll stick to metamorphing and hex-deflection, thanks. So how's it working?"
Harry activated the talisman with a tap of his wand. The silver disk emitted a soft blue glow. "Better than last month. It can absorb most minor hexes and moderate curses now. And—" he paused for dramatic effect, "—it can warn other talisman holders when someone is in danger."
"No way!" Nymphadora's hair flashed yellow with excitement. "That's brilliant!"
"Well, sort of," Harry amended. "They need to be within ten meters of each other, which isn't particularly useful in actual field conditions. As for curses, it's still nowhere near what I promised Minister Lombardi for countering those ancient Etruscan burial curses."
Nymphadora's hair settled back to Christmas colors as her excitement dimmed. "You've been working yourself to the bone for weeks, Harry. Even your friends are worried—Sebastian cornered me yesterday, telling me that you are barely sleeping."
Harry avoided her eyes, instead focusing on adjusting one of the tiny runes with the tip of his wand. "I'm fine. Esmeralda's been a huge help with the curse-breaking aspects. She taught me how to layer protection spells in descending order of resonance frequency, which is why it can handle moderate curses now."
"But not the nasty ancient ones," Nymphadora concluded.
"No." Harry's voice was tight with frustration. "Without Liquid Diamond, I can't stabilize the conflicting magical frameworks. I've tried every substitute—powdered moonstone, essence of mermaid tears, even pulverized Erumpent horn, which nearly took off my eyebrows."
"I noticed they looked a bit singed," Nymphadora teased, but her smile faded when Harry didn't laugh. "You've really tried everything?"
"Everything I can think of, afford, or legally obtain," Harry confirmed grimly. "I've contacted collectors, written to experimental alchemists, even sent an owl to a Peruvian magical materials dealer that Sebastian's uncle recommended. Nothing."
Itisa approached them, butting her head against Harry's knee. He absently stroked between her ears, drawing comfort from her presence.
"What about... unconventional sources?" Nymphadora suggested carefully, her eyes flicking to Itisa.
Harry's hand stilled. "What do you mean?"
"Well..." She hesitated, her hair shifting to a nervous purple. "Itisa isn't exactly a conventional magical being, is she? Nundus are supposed to be among the most magically powerful creatures in existence. Maybe a scale or—"
"No." Harry's voice was quiet but diamond-hard. "Absolutely not."
"I'm just saying—"
"I know what you're saying," Harry cut her off, his green eyes flashing. "And the answer is no. Itisa isn't a source of magical components. She's my friend."
"Harry—"
"Would you ask me to cut off a piece of Hermione for a potion ingredient? Or take a slice of Sebastian for a talisman component?" Harry's voice rose slightly. "Itisa is a sentient, intelligent being. Not a magical ingredient pantry."
Itisa growled softly, as if understanding the conversation. She pressed closer to Harry, her golden eyes fixed on Nymphadora.
Nymphadora raised her hands in surrender, her hair shifting to a contrite blue. "Alright, I get it. Bad suggestion. I'm sorry."
The tension in Harry's shoulders eased slightly. "No, I'm sorry for snapping. I know you were just trying to help."
"It's just... I hate seeing you like this, Harry." Nymphadora slid from her chair to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him. "You barely sleep, you're skipping meals, and Astoria says you nearly fell asleep in Potions yesterday."
"Snape would have loved that," Harry muttered.
"The thing is," Nymphadora continued, "I get it. You made a promise, and you're determined to keep it. That's the Hufflepuff in you. But at what cost?"
Harry sighed, leaning back against the classroom wall. "I don't know what else to do, Dora. I gave Minister Lombardi my word. The talismans I promised could save Aurors' lives—real people with families. And the alternative is letting Fudge and that... that pink toad win."
"Umbridge," Nymphadora supplied with a grimace. "Dad told me about her. Said she looked at him like he had dragon pox when Mum introduced them."
"She's the worst," Harry agreed fervently. "All that 'hem-hem' and fake concern. Acting like I'm some lucky child who stumbled into talisman-making by accident."
"While charging you five times the market rate for Liquid Diamond," Nymphadora added. "Absolute robbery."
"It wasn't about the money," Harry said, a realization crystallizing as he spoke. "It was about control. They don't want me working directly with foreign ministries."
"Politics," Nymphadora nodded. "Dad thinks Fudge is worried you'll become too influential too young. A twelve-year-old with independent international connections isn't something the Ministry can easily control."
Harry absently twisted a piece of silver wire between his fingers. "I'm not interested in politics. I just want to make talismans that help people." He lied and felt bad for it. He still wanted to help people, but having more influence was definitely a priority for him.
"I know that," Nymphadora said gently. "But from Fudge's perspective, you're a wild card. The Boy Who Lived, now making a name for himself in international magical commerce."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the winter sun casting long shadows through the classroom windows. Outside, snow drifted lazily from a steel-gray sky. Christmas decorations sparkled throughout the castle corridors, a jarring contrast to Harry's mood.
"Remember my first Christmas with you?" Harry asked suddenly. "When I couldn't believe you all actually got me presents?"
Nymphadora's expression softened. "You looked like you might faint when you saw the pile of gifts."
"I'd never had real Christmas presents before," Harry admitted. "The Dursleys usually gave me a used handkerchief or an old sock."
"Miserable gits," Nymphadora muttered, her hair flashing an angry red.
"But that's not the point," Harry continued. "The point is, the Tonks family gave me something I never thought I'd have—people who believed in me. Who supported me without trying to control me or use me." He looked directly at her. "That's what this talisman project is partly about. Proving that trust wasn't misplaced."
"Oh, Harry," Nymphadora's eyes brightened with unshed tears. "You daft genius. You've already proven that a hundred times over."
"Not to myself," Harry said quietly. "Not until I figure this out."
Itisa made a soft chirping sound, placing one paw on Harry's knee. He smiled down at her, grateful for her silent support.
"I wish I could help," Nymphadora said. "My specialty's changing my appearance, not inventing magical artifacts."
"Actually..." Harry gave her a considering look. "You might be able to help with the communication aspect. The problem is getting the talismans to 'recognize' each other over greater distances. Your metamorphmagus abilities involve a kind of magical signature recognition, don't they?"
Nymphadora blinked. "I've never thought about it that way, but yeah, I suppose they do. My magic has to recognize my 'base form' to return to it."
"Maybe we could apply a similar principle..." Harry trailed off, his mind racing with possibilities. "Not a complete solution, but a step forward."
"See? This is why you need breaks," Nymphadora said, punching his arm lightly. "Fresh perspective."
Harry carefully placed the prototype talisman back on its pedestal. "I'm not giving up on finding Liquid Diamond. But in the meantime, I'll keep improving what I can."
"That's the spirit," Nymphadora grinned. "And hey—Christmas holiday starts tomorrow. Maybe a break from Hogwarts is exactly what you need to crack this."
"Maybe," Harry agreed, though they both knew he'd bring his work home with him.
Itisa stretched languorously before settling into a comfortable sphinx position, her eyes never leaving Harry. For all her apparent relaxation, Harry could sense her watchfulness—her concern for him.
"I'll figure it out, Itisa," he promised her softly. "Without asking anyone to sacrifice pieces of themselves."
The disguised Nundu blinked slowly in response—a gesture Harry had come to recognize as her equivalent of a smile.
"Come on," Nymphadora said, rising to her feet and extending a hand to pull Harry up. "It's nearly dinner time, and if you miss another meal, Sebastian's threatening to force-feed you."
"Can't have that," Harry replied with a small smile. "His table manners are atrocious."
As they left the workshop, Harry cast one last look at the prototype talisman. Not good enough—not yet. But he wasn't beaten. Somewhere out there was a solution that didn't involve Ministry manipulation or exploiting his friends.
He just had to find it.
Tomorrow
The Hogwarts Express rumbled steadily southward through the snow-covered Scottish countryside, windows frosted at the edges despite the warmth inside. Harry sat in a compartment that was technically designed for six but currently held twice that number, with everyone squashed together in a tangle of scarves, winter cloaks, and holiday cheer.
"Budge up, Seb, you're hogging three people's worth of space," Astoria complained, elbowing Sebastian Sallow in the ribs.
"I am not," Sebastian protested, though he did shift slightly to allow the younger Greengrass sister more room. "It's these books taking up space." He gestured to the stack of ancient-looking tomes beside him.
"Books you're apparently giving to Harry so he can continue his self-destructive work schedule over Christmas," Daphne observed dryly, her cool blue eyes flicking to Harry with unmistakable concern, which was something new from someone like Daphne.
Harry, wedged between Hermione and Susan Bones, felt his cheeks warm. "It's not self-destructive. It's... dedicated."
"You fell asleep in your porridge yesterday," Anna Sallow reminded him gently, her perpetually pale face etched with worry. "Sebastian had to fish you out before you drowned."
"The house-elves make particularly deep porridge," Harry defended himself, which drew a round of laughter from the compartment.
Fred Weasley—or possibly George, Harry was never entirely sure—leaned forward from his perch on a trunk. "We've got a solution for your energy problems, Potter."
"Guaranteed to keep you awake for seventy-two hours straight!" added the other twin.
"With only minor side effects," they finished in unison.
"What kind of side effects?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
"Nothing serious," said one twin with a wave of his hand.
"Just occasional spontaneous yodeling," clarified the other.
"And temporary purple tongue syndrome," added the first.
"And an inexplicable attraction to garden gnomes," they concluded together.
"I think I'll pass," Harry said, trying not to smile. "But thanks for the offer."
Luna Lovegood, who had been gazing dreamily out the window at the swirling snow, suddenly turned to face him. "You know, Harry, sometimes what we're looking for isn't something we find, but something we already have, seen from a different angle."
The compartment fell into one of those brief, awkward silences that tended to follow Luna's more cryptic pronouncements.
"Er, right," Harry replied, not entirely sure how to respond. "That's... philosophically sound."
"I mean specifically about your talisman problem," Luna continued serenely. "The answer is probably hiding in plain sight, disguised by conventional thinking. Like a Blibbering Humdinger pretending to be a hat stand."
Harry blinked. "I... I'll keep that in mind, Luna. Thanks."
Sebastian rolled his eyes but pushed the stack of books toward Harry. "Speaking of potential solutions, these are from my uncle Alaric's private library. Don't ask how I got them out of the house—plausible deniability and all that. But there's some interesting material on alternative magical conductors that might help with your resonance problem."
Harry accepted the books with genuine gratitude. "Thanks, Seb. I promise I'll be careful with them."
"More importantly," Sebastian lowered his voice, "be careful with the content. Some of the methods described are... not exactly Ministry-approved."
"Now you've got my interest," Fred—or George—said, craning his neck to see the titles.
Hermione frowned. "Sebastian, you're not giving Harry books on Dark magic, are you?"
"Not Dark," Sebastian corrected. "Just... creatively unregulated. There's a difference."
"A difference the Ministry doesn't recognize," Susan Bones pointed out. "My aunt would have kittens if she knew about those books."
"Then it's fortunate we're not planning to tell her," Daphne said smoothly. "Some of the most valuable magical knowledge exists in the gray areas between what the Ministry classifies as 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable.'"
Harry carefully tucked the books into his expanded bag. "I'm not interested in Dark magic. I just need to find a solution to a specific magical engineering problem."
"Your ethical boundaries are precisely why we trust you with those books," Anna told him with a small smile. "Anyone else, and Sebastian would rather eat his own wand than share Uncle Alaric's texts."
"True," Sebastian agreed. "Though I'd probably choose someone else's wand for the meal. Cedar is notoriously difficult to digest."
The train began to slow as they approached King's Cross Station. Outside, London appeared through the falling snow, a sprawl of lights and shadows in the early winter dusk.
"Write to us if you have any breakthroughs," Hermione instructed, already bundling herself into her coat and scarf. "And do try to actually enjoy some of your holiday, Harry."
"Yes, Mum," Harry replied with a grin, dodging the light swat she aimed at his arm.
"Seriously though," Susan added, "take care of yourself. The talismans are important, but so are you."
The train lurched to a final stop, and they gathered their belongings in a chaotic flurry of movement.
"Harry!" Nymphadora's voice called from the corridor. "Mum is waiting!"
"Coming!" Harry called back. He took one last look at his friends. "See you all after New Year's. Stay safe."
As he stepped off the train with Itisa trotting at his heels, Harry spotted Andromeda Tonks waiting on the platform, Andromeda's arm raised in an enthusiastic wave. Nymphadora bounded ahead, her hair cycling through festive colors.
Luna's words echoed in his mind: Sometimes what we're looking for isn't something we find, but something we already have, seen from a different angle.
Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but for now, he allowed himself to feel at home.
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