Englishman in the Encanto

Harry Potter woke up with a start and a sharp pain in his scar.

It took him a while to think through the anxiety and the feeling of sheer creepiness the dream had left him.

Voldemort again, the old man – and Wormtail.

The pain subsided gradually, till it finally stopped throbbing.

Harry looked around and was relieved to see he hadn’t woken anyone, because he had a feeling he had screamed. He sighed deeply as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He couldn’t have just a few months of peace, could he?

Harry had been through quite a lot in his almost fourteen years of life.

He’d been orphaned when he was little more than one year old. He’d been sent to live with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He’d been neglected and mistreated by them and bullied by his cousin Dudley for the following ten years. When he’d finally gone to Hogwarts, he’d faced many challenges; a few examples were trying not to get killed by a three-headed dog, then by a plant, then by a giant chess set, then by his own Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, and then by Voldemort. The most difficult of them all, in his opinion, was having to see Draco Malfoy’s stupid face every day.

That was only his first year.

The following year, he’d had Dobby the House Elf trying to protect him, which included getting him a warning from the Ministry of Magic for use of underage magic, blocking the passage to platform 9 ¾ and almost getting him killed by a Bludger enchanted to hit him. Of course, that was adding to those horrid lessons from Gilderoy Lockhart (which meant he and his peers never learned anything about the actual curriculum for that year), the attacks going on in the school that year, which turned out to be the work of a Basilisk under Voldemort’s orders, and that whole thing with the diary, which possessed Ginny framing her for the attacks.

All in all, the fact that he now knew that his godfather wasn’t a murderer put the events of the past school year in a much different perspective. All that tension he’d felt around him was so meaningless now. The Dementors had put siege to Hogwarts for no reason, because Sirius didn’t actually want to kill Harry. He himself hadn’t been that bothered by the fact that Voldemort’s supposed right-hand man was after him: even if Sirius had been actually trying to kill him, Harry had already faced Voldemort twice and come out on top. Somehow.

Of course, he couldn’t be happier with how everything turned out. Well, actually he could, because they couldn’t capture Pettigrew and Sirius was still considered guilty in the eyes of the wizarding world. However, Harry could say he was satisfied for now, knowing his godfather was safe, and Harry now looked forward to getting to know him. Sirius had even offered Harry a home, an offer he would gladly take if available. Hopefully, they would also find a way to prove Sirius’s innocence and get his name cleared, so Harry could leave the Dursleys and, more importantly, Sirius could live his life as he should have.

However, Harry thought he could be content with how things were going for his godfather for now. Take what you can get, as they said.

It had been a surprise when Professor Lupin had turned up at the Dursleys’, but Harry had been more than willing to come and help these people who’d lost their home, especially when Lupin told him they had welcomed Sirius and were sheltering him. These people had even unknowingly given him the chance to leave the Dursleys’ early, Harry would move Heaven and Earth for them.

He didn’t know what to think when Lupin told him that one of these people was actually his godfather’s male partner, as in his boyfriend, but Bruno Madrigal had welcomed him particularly warmly (he was still a little shocked by that sudden hug, it really wasn’t something Harry was used to) and his family too.

They clearly were good people, Harry had come to realise in the next days, and he’d been even a little overwhelmed by their warm welcome.

Bruno’s mother was rather rigid but a kind woman, Harry could see that, in a McGonagall-like sort of way. She obviously ran things around this place, and she’d been warm and polite, but she hadn’t paid Harry too much attention for now, nothing more than she’d paid to any of the others who’d come here with Harry.

The rest of the family was another story. Bruno’s sisters Pepa and Julieta and their husbands were much warmer, the way the Weasleys were with him from the start.

Pepa was very energetic, what with her habit of randomly breaking into dance with her husband, and she gave Harry the impression of someone who’d only recently been freed from something, though he wasn’t sure what.

Julieta had a similar attitude to Mrs Weasley, kind and motherly, and just as insistent when offering him food, though she was much less bullying when she tried to refill his plate (she was much more bullying with Bruno and Sirius, who withered under her kind smile when she stood near them at the table, plate in one hand and wooden spoon in the other).

The Madrigal children had welcomed him like no others, making instantly clear that he was part of the family. They even called him ‘primo’ which turned out to be the Spanish term for ‘cousin’, who knew.

The older girls were nice but tended to stick around Tonks, Bill and Charlie more, or to spend time among themselves as if they wanted to make up for lost time, which wasn’t much of a stretch if what Harry heard was correct.
Camilo was always there with a joke and a smile, but Mirabel was even more eager than him if possible and stuck close to Harry and Ron, so enthusiastic and bubbly that it was contagious.

It was only the second time that he met complete strangers who accepted him so warmly and made him feel so included and part of the family. The Weasleys had done that too, but Harry had been friends with Ron for over a year when he went to stay at the Burrow, and he was friendly with the other Weasleys at Hogwarts too. He’d even met Mrs Weasley at platform 9 ¾ on his first day to Hogwarts ever, so he already knew they were good people.
Hagrid knew his parents and had been the person to reintroduce him to the wizarding world and to save him from the Dursleys, and no one could take his place.

Lupin, of course, had not only been his teacher for a year but an old friend of Harry’s father as well, so Harry thought he could say they were trying to build something there, though he wanted to understand why Lupin hadn’t reached out to him before Harry went to Hogwarts. Sure, the Dursleys wouldn’t have approved, and as a werewolf, it wasn’t like Lupin could take him in, but Harry never cared for the Dursleys anyway and he reckoned a wizard could find a way to elude them for a few meetings at the very least, right? Even a few letters or cards every year would have made Harry feel like he wasn’t completely alone.

Tonks and her parents were nice people, but Harry hadn’t grown as close with them, having just met them recently.

The Madrigals, on the other hand, had no connection to him, except Sirius. Bruno had met Harry’s father once, and Harry wanted to hear about that, but that was it. Harry was aware that any desire he had to get to know him came from his curiosity after everything Sirius had likely told him about him. He didn’t fault Bruno for that, he felt the same way. It was understandable, they’d just met and the only thing they had in common was Harry’s godfather, whom Harry himself didn’t know that well.

Harry had been honest when he’d told Sirius he was fine with his and Bruno’s relationship. Sure, he’d been a bit surprised, but, he wanted to make a good impression on Sirius, and, like he’d said, he knew better than to take the Dursleys’ opinions in any matter for granted. He truthfully didn’t see the problem in two men being together if that was what they wanted, he’d hate having someone say he couldn’t be with the one he loved.

However, the concept was new to him, having never occurred to him that someone close to him was like that. He himself had only just started getting to know Sirius, who, of course, hadn’t even given him a hint on where he was, let alone open up about his boyfriend in their letters. Of course, Harry didn’t expect him to. What? Was Sirius supposed to tell him the night he revealed he wasn’t trying to kill him?

“Hi, Harry, I’m your godfather, not a murderer. I didn’t betray your parents, it was your friend’s pet rat. Oh, by the way, I have a long-lost boyfriend in Colombia.”

Even in his mind it sounded stupid, and Harry didn’t think Sirius could have told him about Bruno and the Madrigals in the few letters they’d exchanged since that eventful night either, since it could have put everyone at risk. Sirius had rightfully never even said where he was, for sure he wasn’t going to tell Harry who he was with or how close he was to them.

So Harry had decided to reserve judgement on his godfather’s boyfriend for when he actually met him, even if he didn’t feel like he should have any say in Sirius’s love life, unless the person he was interested in was actually dangerous in any way.

He'd observed Bruno since they’d arrived here, deciding to make up his own mind before he tried to get to know him.

He didn’t think Bruno Madrigal was the kind of man he’d have thought someone like Sirius would be interested in when he’d first met him. Bruno was handsome enough, Harry guessed, if one was interested in men, but he was also rather short, Harry was already a bit taller than him; he was older than Sirius, Mirabel said he and his sisters were triplets and all fifty years old, whereas Harry’s godfather was about thirty-four. Not to mention, Bruno was a walking bundle of nerves, somehow even worse than Professor Quirrell, which Harry didn’t think possible (probably because Bruno wasn’t faking it like Harry’s late Defence teacher).

Still, if one looked past the anxiety, Bruno was actually a very pleasant man, kind in a Lupin/Professor Sprout sort of way, and obviously good with children. Mirabel said he’d been away from the family and yet he seemed to be one of Antonio’s favourite people. Even some of the town’s children hung around him when Antonio demanded to see his rats or to tell stories. When people put him at ease he was funny, and Harry didn’t know what it was about him that left him with a sense of kinship with him.

Bruno was sweet to Sirius, and Sirius was caring to Bruno. Harry liked how relaxed, content and happy his godfather looked now, when not even two months ago he was crazed, haunted, tired, and one-mindedly determined to commit the crime he was imprisoned for.

Of course, twelve years in Azkaban, the death of Harry’s parents and everything else wouldn’t go away in a jiffy. Harry had had his fair share of encounters with the Dementors, and he doubted he’d ever forget that, let alone Sirius’s experience of twelve years with them. However, Harry could see that Sirius was certainly recuperating faster than he would have alone: Bruno was a huge part of that, and the warmth the Madrigal family showed Sirius, Lupin’s presence, and, Harry didn’t want to brag, but even himself being there. Harry could relate, he too felt much happier now than he would have had he spent his holidays with the Dursleys (though that wasn’t that hard to deduce). If Sirius could concentrate on happier thoughts and happier times, Harry was happy for him.

Speaking of Mirabel, she seemed very invested in Harry liking her uncle, singing his praises to him at any chance. Harry was confused at first, because he didn’t think he should have a say in whom his godfather wanted as a partner, but one day, after a particularly enthusiastic and even borderline mad stream of consciousness of praises of Bruno Madrigal, Mirabel’s cousin Camilo explained how Mirabel had been through a lot and Sirius had been kind to her, one of the few to be so before their home fell, so the fact that he was their uncle’s boyfriend was just a bonus point for her. She’d basically decided that Harry was part of the family the moment she’d heard about him from Sirius, and she wanted him to like Bruno.

Harry was touched and decided to put a bit more effort in trying to get to know Bruno, but the man was surprisingly able to vanish when Harry was looking for him. He even asked Sirius if he’d done something to upset Bruno, but his godfather confessed that Bruno was trying to give them space to get to know each other.

All in all, despite his awkwardness with his boyfriend’s godson, Harry finally felt he should be the one to find Bruno Madrigal alone, so they could talk. It wasn’t easy, for all his awkwardness and anxiety, the man was sneaky and light on his feet.

Harry wasn’t sure what gave Bruno such anxiety. The Madrigals were good people, Harry had seen it from the second he’d landed in front of them, a warm and loving family, people who’d welcomed his godfather in his time of need even before knowing he was actually Bruno’s boyfriend.

Bruno’s mother seemed the strictest of them all but even she was a kind woman. Harry had shared just a few words with Neville Longbottom’s grandmother at King’s Cross, but Bruno’s mother was impressive and authoritative in the same kind of way. He’d been so shocked at seeing that same energy from this Colombian woman that he’d almost looked for Mrs Longbottom’s signature vulture hat.

The fact that she’d been told about Sirius and Bruno and hadn’t said anything had created a rather toxic week for everyone involved, until Bruno confronted her and up and asked her what she thought of the fact that he was in love with another man.

Now that she was in the know about her son’s relationship with Sirius, Harry knew why she hadn’t focused that much on him like the other Madrigals had done. Mrs Madrigal, or Abuela, as she’d told them all to call her, had been welcoming to Harry from the first moment, but now she too understood who Harry was to Sirius and she had asked him to consider her a grandmother of sorts if he felt like it. She’d been gracious and elegant about it and Harry was touched that the Madrigal family welcomed him as one of their own, because few people had done the same for him.

Since arriving, Harry had spent quite a lot of time between his godfather, his friends, and Hagrid. He wasn’t scared by the work, the Dursleys always had him do the most chores (it wasn’t that difficult, it wasn’t like they gave Dudley any chores). Mrs Weasley made it clear that everyone would do their part, but the Madrigals insisted that the children find time to relax and rest: as Harry understood it, it was sort of a new thing for the Madrigal family, and more than once someone from town (usually the priest or that Mariano bloke) had to remind them to take a break.

But they were even more adamant about it when they were informed that Harry and the Weasley children were on holiday from school.

Still, while they were all very busy with their work, the adults were also working on some potion Harry only knew was to protect the Madrigals and their land, and in addition to the time they were allowed to keep for themselves, Harry and the Weasley children had their homework to do. They had greatly appreciated their free time, which they’d spent showing all kinds of wizarding games to the Madrigal children. Isabela, who’d seemed very proper to Harry at first, even in spite of her colourful clothes, had enjoyed Exploding Snap so much that she’d grown almost addicted by now.

But now – this dream. What was he supposed to do?

Harry felt restless. He tried going back to sleep but he couldn’t.

Before he knew what he was doing, he got up and left the room he shared with Ron, the twins and Camilo.

He wandered around the church and even went for a walk in the village.

It was surprisingly silent at night when it was so chaotic during the day.

Harry had taken quite a few night-time strolls in the village. A couple of times with Ron, Mirabel and Camilo, and even once with Sirius and Bruno, the night of Harry’s arrival, when the man offered to show him around the Encanto.

It had been a nice evening, though Harry had excused himself at one point: for one he was exhausted by the jet lag, something he had never experienced before, and Sirius and Bruno, for all their good intentions and enthusiasm at spending time with him, which was touching, had been so alone for so long that they sometimes didn’t know how to act around people.

Sirius was very excited to have Harry there, something he clearly hadn’t expected so soon after that night in the Shrieking Shack. And Harry was excited of this unexpected chance to spend time with his newly-found godfather too. However, Sirius had been in Azkaban, in complete isolation for twelve years, and he seemed to have forgotten how to balance his attention, especially when he found himself split between his godson and boyfriend. He tended to get a little too flirty with Bruno, not handsy per se, but like he forgot there was someone else there, his teenaged godson to be precise. And sometimes he got so caught up talking with Harry that Harry himself had to lead his attention back to Bruno by asking the man a question so he wouldn’t just linger next to them, listening to them.

Bruno, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind that that much. He was too nervous, trying so hard to make a good impression on Harry, which soon made Harry want to put him out of his misery and leave them alone to calm down.

Being the middle of the night, Harry was relieved not to find anyone who could potentially tell him off for being up and about in the dark of the night. He was sure Mrs Weasley, for one, would have something to say about it, saying that it was dangerous to be alone outside at night in a foreign country. Harry would be inclined to agree if he wasn’t Harry Potter, but Harry thought Hogwarts at night had been so much more dangerous than the Encanto could ever be.

After all, he didn’t think he’d ever find a Basilisk in the Encanto, or a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who wanted to kill him.

Harry stopped guiltily once he got back to the rectory, where they all slept at night. To be fair to Mrs Weasley’s kind fretting, trouble had an odd way to find Harry, he’d admitted as much himself. He’d just had this dream, hadn’t he?

“Harry?”

Harry’s attention snapped to the green-clad figure on the doorframe to the kitchen.

“Hey, Bruno,” he greeted the older man.

Bruno had told him to call him by his first name straight away, which had put Harry immediately at ease with him, much like with Sirius.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“I am a famous insomniac,” Bruno said.

“How come?”

“Meh,” Bruno answered vaguely, “What about you? Can’t sleep?”

Harry found himself grinning in spite of the creepy feeling that dream had left him, “Meh,” he replied.

The first thing he’d learnt about Bruno Madrigal was that he was someone who didn’t take things to heart, so Harry bet that he wouldn’t mind if Harry was as vague as him.

His bet was correct, because Bruno offered him an amused grin, “That bad a dream, huh?” Harry was stunned, “I’m no stranger to bad dreams,” Bruno said, “And I’ve seen Sirius as rattled as you look now. Wanna talk about it?”
Harry shook his head, “No, I –”

Harry’s resolve to refuse melted quite quickly.

Till he’d gone to Hogwarts, he’d never had anyone else to rely on but himself. He knew he couldn’t count on the Dursleys, not that he wanted to. Now that he had Ron and Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys, people who truly cared about him, he was still baffled.

Still, where he would normally confide in Ron and Hermione, he knew what they would think about Harry’s dream. Ron would offer to ask his parents about Harry’s scar hurting and Hermione would tell him to contact Dumbledore and would start to frantically look through her books, but as far as Harry knew he was the only person to have a scar like that, so he doubted Mr Weasley would have insight about it.

He didn’t even know where Dumbledore spent his summers, though he thought that Dumbledore in an exotic place like Colombia seemed out of place – he entertained the image of Dumbledore appearing in the Encanto to help them with the work they were doing and applying suncream on his nose…

Harry snorted at the thought and was brought back to reality when he noticed Bruno’s frown of confusion.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, “No, I – I think I’d like to talk to Sirius about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Ay,” Bruno said, “No, I don’t mind,” he paused, looking around, “Vienes, let’s get him.”

Harry followed him through the hallway to the room Sirius shared with Bruno, Lupin, Hagrid, Bill and Charlie, but stayed on the doorframe.

He’d never seen anyone move as silently as Bruno, for all his love of rats, the man was as quiet as Filch’s cat Mrs Norris as he reached the bed and shook Harry’s godfather awake.

“Sirius, despierta, cariño,” Harry heard the Colombian man whisper.

Harry peered inside to see Sirius groan sleepily, then stir and reach out, “Hey handsome,” the man called softly, stroking Bruno’s cheek, “What are you doing up? Come here –”

Harry’s cheeks burned. As much as Harry was fine with his godfather’s sexuality, he really didn’t think Sirius meant for him to witness that particular moment. He looked away, though to be fair Bruno looked much more embarrassed than him.

“Ay, corazon, don’t,” Bruno pulled Sirius’s hand down, “Harry needs to talk to you.”

“Harry?”

That got Sirius’s attention and a moment later he was jumping out of bed and joining Harry out of the bedroom.

“Harry?” Sirius asked, immediately concerned, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Harry’s cheeks burned and he felt stupid for making a big deal out of a dream. Sirius still had trouble sleeping (everyone had been woken at least once by his night terrors) and Harry had woken him up like a toddler?

“Sorry, it was stupid to wake you about it.”

Harry made to leave, but Sirius put his hand on his shoulder. He stared at him for a moment and Harry didn’t exactly know how to interpret the look in his grey eyes. Did his godfather look flattered that Harry had gone to him?

“The living room is free,” Bruno told them.

Sirius nodded and led Harry there.

He made Harry sit on the couch and sat in front of him, “Tell me everything.”

And Harry did.

He spoke in detail about the house and the old man and Wormtail (Sirius’s knuckles went white at the mere mention of him), and the figure he hadn’t seen exactly. He’d recognised the voice, though, Voldemort’s high-pitched cold voice.

He told him everything from what the house looked like to how the old Muggle man had faced those strangers bravely, threatening to call the police before being engulfed in the green light that plagued Harry’s nightmares since he was a toddler.

Sirius looked pensive throughout Harry’s tale, staying silent as he listened, till Harry stopped talking and just stared at his godfather, waiting for his reaction.

Finally, they both noticed Bruno appearing on the doorframe, who nodded his head towards the kitchen. Sirius was the first to rise from his spot. He led Harry into the kitchen where Bruno offered Harry a cup of hot milk.

Harry thanked him with a nod but was even more grateful after he’d taken a sip. Bruno had given him time to talk to Sirius without imposing on them, tactfully leaving them the room by busying himself with the hot milk. It seemed like the sort of thing Mrs Weasley would do, or Lupin. Bruno didn’t practice magic the way Harry knew people to do, so there wasn’t anything magical about the drink, but it was comforting either way. Harry shouldn’t have been too surprised, he had never known familial kindness from the Dursleys, the first to give him that warmth had been Hagrid, and the Weasleys. Harry was glad to have so many people caring for him, right now, even his parents’ best friend. And he was grateful to put the Madrigals on that list now too.

“So, what do you think?” Harry asked his godfather once he was done talking, “I mean, my scar hurt before, when Voldemort was near.”

“I don’t like it,” Sirius said thoughtfully.

“Do you think it has anything to do with that prophecy at my exam?”

Bruno jumped, “Sorry!”

Harry blinked up at him, frowning in confusion, “Er – why?”

Sirius reached out distractedly to touch his boyfriend’s arm, “Love –”

The other man flinched, “Ay, right,” he said, “It’s not one of my visions, is it?”

“No,” Harry said politely, “It was a prophecy Professor Trelawney made, the Divination teacher at Hogwarts? She made it at my exam.”

“Sorry,” Bruno said again, “I – I’m not exactly used to not being the only one who sees the future.”

Sirius turned his attention back to Harry, “What did – Professor Trelawney?” Harry nodded, “What did she say at your exam?”

Harry thought about it for a moment, “It went sort of like this: The Dark Lord lies alone, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was.”

Sirius crossed his arms thoughtfully, “Well, it was obviously about Peter, though you might have thought it was about me at the time, right?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed but Sirius smiled playfully. It looked a bit forced, as if he was trying to make Harry feel better in spite of his own bitterness at even hearing the Pettigrew’s name. Still, mission accomplished, though, because Harry felt better and was once again amazed at how calmer and happier Sirius was now. It wasn’t that long ago that Harry had met him in the Shrieking Shack, but he doubted his godfather would have been able to be playful about Wormtail at the time, no matter how Harry felt about it.

“I don’t like it at all,” Sirius said again, sighing, “There’s not much room for interpretation, especially now that your dream confirms this.”

“Do you have any powers like I used to have, Harry?” Bruno asked the boy.

“What do you mean?”

Bruno looked at Sirius for support, “Divination, do you have aptitude for Divination,” Sirius said.

Harry blinked, “Well, no, I don’t think so, how were Mum or Dad with Divination?”

Sirius snorted, “Terrible,” he said, “They were good at many, many things, but Divination was not one of them.”

“What about you?”

“Ha!” Sirius let out a sarcastic bark-like laugh, “As much good at it as I was as a Quidditch player! Don’t tell anyone, but do not let me near a Quaffle or a Beater’s bat – I aim well with a wand… not so well when I have to throw a ball of any kind.”

Harry grinned. Sirius was still trying to lighten the mood for Harry’s sake in spite of his own worries, but he was doing a wonderful job.

“I was never good at Divination,” he confessed, “Honestly, Ron and I sort of took the class because it was rumoured to be really easy.”

It was Bruno’s turn to blink, “Easy?”

“With Divination either you have the Sight, or you don’t,” Sirius said, “There’s not much to do about it. So, many people take the class at Hogwarts to get their fill of additional subjects.”

Bruno said nothing but Harry could tell that he didn’t like what Sirius said. Harry could hardly blame him. He wouldn’t like it either if everyone blamed him for, say, being a talented Quidditch Player, and then he found out people took that to get an easy mark at school.

“Can’t you ask your profesora to tell you the vision again?” Bruno asked finally.

Harry shook his head, “I did at the time, but she didn’t remember at all,” he explained, “She went into some sort of trance…?”

He looked at Sirius, who nodded, “Seers are rare, but I’ve read about Seers going into trance and forgetting about what they’ve said.”

Bruno snorted, “I wish that happened to me,” he sighed, “Then, perhaps you can look at the vision? My visions came with a vision tablet – can’t you see that?”

“I didn’t see anything like that,” Harry said, “I don’t think something like that happened with Professor Trelawney.”

“My uncle Alphard once told me that prophecies are recorded somewhere in the Ministry of Magic, but I don’t know much more about it,” Sirius said, “Even if I did, it wouldn’t be feasible to do.”

They stayed silent for a while, ruminating on what Harry had confessed.

“So – Voldemort’s coming back, isn’t he?”

As he spoke those words out loud, Harry felt as if an invisible hand had just grasped his insides and squeezed them tightly.

Sirius shrugged, visibly troubled.

Bruno obviously didn’t know enough, but even he looked anxious, though that was probably just because Harry and Sirius were worried.

“We all knew he was coming back one way or another,” Sirius said comfortingly, though it didn’t work very well, “Those who thought he was gone were fooling themselves. This dream of yours… it’s the newest of a lot of signs.”
“Signs?” Harry asked, “What signs?”

“Something Remus and Arthur said the other day among other things,” Sirius said vaguely before sighing, “Tell you what, we’re not going to have any answers at this hour of the night. I’ll write to Dumbledore about it, it’s important that he knows this sort of thing, but for now, let’s just keep our wits about us and go on with what we’ve been doing. In any case, if what you saw in your dream is true, it doesn’t look like Voldemort’s in any position to move his pieces quickly. So we should be careful and on guard but it doesn’t seem to be the moment to panic as of yet.”

Harry wasn’t sure that he felt better about his dream now, but he did feel lighter by the time he and Sirius sat down to play a game of wizard’s chess with Bruno watching them. It would be a while before anyone would wake up but none of them found much sense in going back to bed by now.

*

“So, does anyone have any idea what kind of – como lo dices? – wards they’re working on?”

Harry Potter shook his head over the water bottle he and his friend Ron were sharing with Mirabel and Camilo Madrigal.

Usually, Camilo split his time quite evenly between Fred and George and Harry, Ron and Mirabel. He had a lot in common with Fred and George, but he and Mirabel were perfectly in between the twins and Harry and Ron in age and Mirabel had obviously taken a shine to them, and Camilo seemed rather hell-bent on spending time with his cousin too. Harry didn’t have enough experience with normal, loving families to understand all that was going on with the Madrigals. He was just happy with his summer away from the Dursleys.

“I’m not sure either,” said Ron, when the others turned to look at him, “Wards are complicated and it’s not a branch of magic we’ve covered in school yet. I do have an inkling though.”

“Yeah?” asked Harry.

“Well,” Ron said, “From what I heard the other day, I think they’re going for blood wards. It would make sense, what with Lupin bringing all of us here. Bringing you here, Harry.”

“Me?”

“Didn’t they say that it was your grandfather’s death that created the first wards here?” Ron asked Camilo and Mirabel, “And that Sirius added to them? That’s what Lupin said, right, Harry? That Sirius and your dad added to the wards that were here? Like I said, I don’t know too much about wards, but I do know wards based on blood are the strongest there are. That’s why Lupin called us to come here, because we’re Sirius’s closest blood relatives. Mrs Tonks is a Black by blood and Sirius’s first cousin, so that’s a given, but even my grandmother Cedrella was one, which means that Dad has Black blood too.”

“Really?” asked Harry, “I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I, though I am not surprised. Pureblood families are all related one way or another. The Potters are purebloods too, you know,” Ron told his best friend.

“My Mum was Muggleborn, though,” Harry retorted.

“Yeah, but I heard from Mum that till your Dad married your Mum the Potters were purebloods,” Ron said and snickered at the face Harry made, “Well, they weren’t Malfoy-like pureblood. The Potters always took a stand for Muggle rights, you know, that’s why they were excluded from the Sacred Twenty-Eight list.”

“The – what?”

Ron’s eyebrows rose high in his pale yet now distinctively sunburnt pink forehead, “You don’t know?” he gasped, then it hit him, “Oh, well, of course you wouldn’t. Cantankerous Nott made the list. The Sacred Twenty-Eight were the twenty-eight British families that were still truly pure-blood in the 1930s. It was supposed to be an insult that the Potters weren’t on it, but Dad always said that he would love it if the Weasleys were excluded from that list too.”

“Nice,” said Harry sarcastically, “This bloke was literally called Cantankerous?” asked Harry, “No wonder he sounds like a prat.”

Ron shrugged, “Nan never talked about her blood family. I know why now, they disowned her for marrying a Weasley, as they would. They disowned Mrs Tonks too, because her husband is Muggleborn, and Sirius, because he ran away from home. Mrs Tonks was telling Mum all about it on the plane on the way here.”

“What a fun family,” said Camilo sarcastically, gaining himself an elbow to the sternum from Mirabel. He flinched in pain, but then his mirth washed away from his face, “Our family isn’t that different from them, is it?”

Mirabel was stunned at those words.

Harry and Ron watched her permanent energy flicker away and her shoulder slump, “Camilo, it wasn’t what I meant –”

“It’s okay not to deny it, Mira,” Camilo shut her argument down immediately.

Harry and Ron shared a look, worried that they were going to be witnesses to a significant moment of some kind.

Harry was comfortable with the Madrigal children. Camilo and Mirabel didn’t even make him feel younger (to be fair, they were only about a year older than him anyway), in the same way Fred and George managed to make Ron and him feel included when they joked together. Camilo was always a laugh and complemented Ron’s sense of humour well, and Mirabel was energetic and cheerful even if her life hadn’t been all roses.

Harry knew something about that, and he envied Mirabel’s ability to always see the bright side in everything. Harry was much more of a pessimist than her. Of course, Harry had been briefed about the Madrigals and their situation on their flight from England: Lupin had explained how they were going to help the Madrigals and why, then Mrs Weasley had warned them all to behave. Harry had been terrified until she’d smiled at him kindly and then proceeded to glare suspiciously and rather unfairly at the twins, who weren’t doing anything suspicious for once.

However, Lupin had given them just the gist of it, because he himself had been told by Sirius, who’d witnessed what was going on with the Madrigals and had heard about it from Bruno and Julieta in particular. So, Harry had an idea but, of course, he hadn’t stopped to ask each of the Madrigals their grievances.

As much as Mirabel seemed to like him, he didn’t think she would like him prying into her business and as much as he wanted to know, this time there wasn’t a Basilisk threatening everyone’s life like in second year. He didn’t feel pressured into looking into the Madrigal’s business, people he’d just met, he could wait to know.

They were relieved when Bruno, of all people, appeared in the vicinity.

Harry blinked when he saw a lady from town glower after Bruno, “What’s her problem?” he asked Mirabel.

He was surprised to see the usually cheerful Mirabel frown at the sight of the woman, “Never mind her,” she told him, “That’s Señora Pezmuerto, she has it in for Tío Bruno.”

“For Mr Bruno?” Ron gaped, “The man clearly couldn’t hurt a fly, what could he possibly have done to make her so mad at him?”

“Something that normal people would get over quickly,” said Camilo, frowning with uncharacteristic disapproval at the woman, “Certainly not hold a grudge for years.”

“Years?”

“Don’t say anything,” Mirabel said quickly, once they saw that Bruno had spotted them and was walking towards them, “She’s not worth it and we shouldn’t upset him over her. Hey, Tío! What’s up?”

Apparently thinking nothing of the high-pitched voice with which Mirabel greeted him, Bruno smiled at them and asked if they wanted a snack. He’d been sent by Julieta and Mrs Weasley to see if they were alright or if they needed anything. He did so with his usual jittery nature but smiled at them again when they answered and dashed away with a whisk of his green ruana behind him.

“You should be careful with whom you associate here.”

Harry blinked when he found the lady from before, that Pezmuerto character, approaching them. Mirabel and Camilo frowned right away, but the woman pointedly ignored them and focused on Harry and Ron.

“Pardon?” Ron asked.

“I mean it, children,” the woman said, and Harry’s nerves were already grated by being called a child by a total stranger, “You should be careful if you know what’s good for you. That man is bad luck.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw that Mirabel moved but Camilo held her hand to stop her, “Bad luck?” he asked.

“I’m not surprised that the Casita fell, and the Madrigals lost their magic and he’s here. He caused it all, I’m sure of it,” she continued, sending a disapproving frown to Mirabel’s obvious outrage at her words, “He was always going around telling people about his horrible prophecies and everything he saw came true, he brought trouble and bad luck to anyone he came close to.”

“Mh,” Harry answered vaguely, “Is that so?”

“It is definitely not so!” Mirabel bristled, “Don’t say things like that about our Tío!”

“Mirabel’s right!” Camilo nodded fervently, “Stop telling lies about him! It’s bad enough that I believed all those lies you and the others told me. Tío Bruno’s actually cool. He’s not at all like you said!”

“Isn’t he?” the woman crossed her arms, glaring at them both under Harry and Ron’s confused eyes, “He killed my Señor Rojo with his prophecies!”

“Ugh!” Camilo rolled his eyes, “Again with the goldfish?”

“Goldfish?” Ron asked, “Are you saying you’re mad at Mr Bruno for predicting your fish would die?”

“Sí!” Pezmuerto nodded eagerly, “That is exactly right! He’s a bad man! He told me that Señor Rojo would die, and he was dead the next day!”

“I said stop talking about Tío that way!” Mirabel snapped.

Harry was already irked. He’d just met Bruno, but Sirius cared about him, and he was Harry’s godfather, even if he and Harry had just been reunited. Moreover, the Madrigals had welcomed him very warmly and he was enjoying his first holiday ever, especially considering his past years at Hogwarts and the people he’d been scorned by only because of who he was. And Bruno had been the first of them to welcome him.

In addition, he hated, hated this kind of gossip with a passion.

He’d had to keep his mouth shut in Hogwarts, a place he considered home much more than Privet Drive, when he’d been singled out with Hermione and Neville for losing a lot of house points for that Norbert debacle, he’d felt guilty about it. And he’d tried to defend himself to no avail, when the school thought he was the heir of Slytherin and that he could petrify them. These had been two of the latest instances in which people had talked behind his back, much like school mates in elementary school had done at Dudley’s behest, or how just last summer Aunt Marge had started whispering with the Dursleys that he was abnormal because he’d tried to calm his own temper by reciting the “Handbook of Do-It-Yourself-Broomcare” Hermione had gifted him last year when she would randomly insult him or his dead parents.

He hadn’t exactly forgiven the students of Hogwarts, and he certainly hadn’t forgiven the Dursleys, Harry mused, they’d had their own twisted reasons for having it out for him, which he couldn’t say for this woman. He’d been told the story and it irked Harry that someone who’d had the privilege of a blissful life in what was clearly a paradise on Earth, even with the ruins of the Madrigal house they were building from scratch, could have the nerve to say such things about a member of the family who’d made all that possible. If you add to that that apparently all the members of the Madrigal family had broken their backs to cater to the community, Harry found appalling that anyone could say anything about someone as obviously harmless as Bruno – for something as stupid as Bruno predicting the death of a goldfish? It was as if Harry blamed Professor Trelawney for seeing that Wormtail would help Voldemort come back.

Harry felt a shiver go down his spine. He’d confided about that prophecy only in Sirius, and only when he’d told him about his dream the other night. Bruno knew as well, and Harry could now see why he’d seemed guilty at the mere mention of a prophecy when he’d neither made the prophecy nor been there for it. He’d just brought Harry a cup of warm milk to calm his nerves.

If this was how people talked about him, Harry wasn’t surprised the man was always on the verge of a panic attack.

“I’m confused,” he told Mirabel, who blinked in surprise at him talking to her, but he turned to look at the woman, “You’re upset at Bruno for telling you that your goldfish would die?”

The woman crossed her arms, “Exactly! You’d do well to stay away from him! It’s even worse now that he has that maniac friend of his – as if! Who would want to be friends with him!?”

Harry licked his lips and raised his eyebrows, “Huh-huh,” he nodded calmly, “First of all, that maniac is my godfather,” he enjoyed the look on her face when she realised the meaning of those words, “But what I am confused about is – I understand your name is Pezmuerto?”

“Yes,” she said, “What of it?”

“And it’s not a nickname or something?”

“No,” she answered slowly, narrowing her eyes.

“I see,” Harry said politely, “Now, I am not at all fluent in Spanish, so forgive me if I am mistaken, but as I understand it, doesn’t Pezmuerto mean ‘dead fish’? And you went to a Seer to know that your fish would die? I mean, I’m not superstitious or anything, but I wouldn’t have pushed my luck if I were you.”

Much like her fish, Harry supposed, the woman opened and closed her mouth as she looked for an answer. Harry just stared at her, eyebrows raised, until she gave a loud groan of frustration and left them alone, stomping away.
They weren’t surprised to see her glower at Bruno, when she passed by him. He was understandably confused by the random look in a ‘what did I do to her?’ sort of way, but he eventually shrugged and made a beeline for Sirius who’d just entered the building site with his cousin Mrs Tonks and Lupin.

“So,” said Ron slowly, as he and Harry kept their eyes on the bright smile Sirius offered Bruno when he caught sight of him, “Since it’s so weird for Muggles that two men be together – have you come to grips with it?”

“I really don’t mind,” said Harry when Sirius pecked Bruno’s cheek, “I mean, they don’t look any different to me than any other couple.”

“I think they’re sweet,” Mirabel said with a bright smile, “Don’t you?”

Harry looked away from his godfather and his boyfriend to share a look with Ron and Camilo. There was a pregnant pause between the three boys, then Camilo sighed dramatically and patted Mirabel’s shoulder, “Mirabel, my dear old baby prima –”

“You’re just a few months older than me,” said Mirabel, annoyed.

“– No self-respecting strapping young lad like me or these two fine gentlemen would ever agree to that statement even if he found it true.”

“What? That you’re older or that Tío Bruno and Tío Sirius are sweet?”

“That they’re sweet!” Camilo said. Mirabel raised her eyebrows at him. He was stunned for a moment, then grinned at her, “But yeah. Well played, Mirabel.”

Mirabel laughed. So did Harry and Ron.

The rest of the day went fine, and Harry was soon distracted away from those thoughts.

Everyone was working on the rebuilding, even Mrs Weasley and Mrs Tonks. Since most of the British adults had been working hard cooped up in the research room, Abuela had insisted for them to take a break, and they’d all flocked to the rebuilding site. The work went much faster with several wands available.

That evening, while they all lounged in the church’s yard after dinner, Harry caught sight of Sirius, Lupin, Mr Weasley, Mr and Mrs Tonks and Hagrid all huddled together, looking various degrees of concerned. At first, he thought it was about their work on the wards, but then Pepa asked them about that, and they explained to the best of their abilities what was going on with that.

The potion for the wards was going just fine, it just took a while, much like the Polyjuice Potion Harry, Ron and Hermione made in their second year, though they had to add some ingredients they wouldn’t find here. Mrs Tonks and Mrs Weasley had offered to go back to England for a couple of days to find them, though they seemed reluctant. If Harry had to guess, Knockturn Alley was involved – no wonder they seemed reluctant, Harry had been there once, by mistake, and he wasn’t really keen on going back soon.

On a happier note, a debate started on whether or not to add to the wards, especially when Mr Tonks suggested that perhaps they could protect the area with some magical beasts.

It was a happier note for the others, because Harry and Ron froze and shared an anxious look when Hagrid agreed eagerly with Mr Tonks. Lupin, oh so very oblivious to Harry and Ron’s plight, smiled kindly and explained to the Madrigals that Hagrid was an excellent carer of magical creatures.

Little Antonio, always so excited whenever animals of any kind came into the conversation, immediately started bombarding Hagrid with questions about it. It was a funny scene, the little boy with his impressive afro perched on Hagrid’s knee, listening intently to the giant man’s stories. Harry had wondered why the Madrigals didn’t seem to have much of a problem with Hagrid’s accent – turned out that the charm they’d been using worked on accents too and not only on different languages.

Harry and Ron didn’t like where the conversation was going when Hagrid went from Flobberworms, to Hippogriffs (they didn’t mind Hippogriffs much, Buckbeak had grown a lot on Harry since that first meeting in Care of Magical Creatures). Hagrid then went on to talk about other creatures Harry and Ron had been lucky enough not to meet.

All the Madrigal children had flocked around the gentle giant, Luisa and Antonio the most wide-eyed as they listened to Hagrid’s tales about dragons.

Harry and Ron shared a panicked look – Charlie knew about Norbert, but they were quite sure none of the other adults knew and they preferred to keep it that way, if Hagrid didn’t blab. Harry was relieved when Mirabel, always so sensitive, encouraged Hagrid to move on from the subject of dragons, since Hagrid’s voice was breaking, and he’d taken out his handkerchief.

But then, it went back to dangerous waters for Harry and Ron, because Sirius was actually interested in Mr Tonks’ idea and they all started brainstorming about it together. A chill went down Harry’s spine when Fluffy the three-headed dog was brought up, making Luisa (who apparently was a huge fan of Greek mythology) even more excited with Hagrid’s tale, but Ron was the first to break when the gamekeeper suggested bringing a few Acromantulas straight from the Forbidden Forest.

On the matter, Hagrid added cheerfully, “Aragog’ll be happy ter help!”

“NO!”

Everyone jumped, especially Bruno, who actually jumped so far away from the table that he was found a few feet away from the rest of them.

Ron stood in a state that was a mix of Bruno’s anxiety and Pepa’s difficulty in managing her emotions. And Mrs Weasley’s rage.

“No! No! No! No!” the red-haired boy shouted, “Bloody hell, Hagrid! No!”

Harry, as usual, recovered quickly and dashed to his best friend. He had an inkling of what the problem was.

“Ron, maybe you should calm down –”

“No!” Ron shook Harry’s hand off his shoulder, “Hagrid, Merlin’s beard! That’s enough! Don’t you think that’s enough dangerous beasts? We fought the troll, then we sent the dragon away in first year, then Harry fought the Dementors and werewolves last year – no offence –” he told Remus, who waved him off pointedly under the Madrigals’ perplexed eyes, “And the Basilisk? Harry got almost offed by that thing! For Merlin’s sake, Hagrid, those spiders tried to kill us! I draw the line at Aragog!”

Harry didn’t know what to add. Ron might have been a bit dramatic, but he had a point, and Harry too could do without any of the magical beasts Ron mentioned.

“Alright, then,” Camilo broke the awkward silence after a while, “So no spiders.”

“Right,” Sirius agreed, “I’m actually more interested in how you were ‘almost offed’ by a Basilisk.”

Thanks a lot, Ron, Harry thought, sending a glare at his best friend, who, to be fair, was paying the price for his indiscretion now that his mother had processed the words ‘dragon’ and ‘troll’. Harry wouldn't like being in Ron's place by now - he'd rather take his chance with the Basilisk.