Last Call

Albus frowned when he attempted once again to set the wards to protect Harry Potter within his aunt’s home.

Magic was rejecting the ward, though there was no reasoning for why it should be happening. Wards that connect through bloodlines were an ancient magic, easily overlooked by more ‘modern’ wizards. It had worked for others that needed protecting during the war, why was it failing Albus then when the orphaned child would need it more than any other?

“Peculiar,” Albus murmured, stroking his beard in thought. He looked to the infant in Minerva’s hands, wishing that the babe could offer some insight to the problem.

“What’s peculiar?” Minerva asked, her voice tight as she grieved for beloved students, rejoiced in the life of the baby she held.

“The woman who lives within the house, Petunia Dursley, is Harry’s aunt,” Albus explained, thinking the problem through as he spoke. “The sister of Harry’s mother should be the closest bond through blood and yet…” Albus waved his wand again, receiving the same non-result.

“Albus.” Minerva’s voice sharpened and she looked from young Harry to Albus. It was a look so familiar it brought a smile to Albus’s face, shown in the twitch of his beard. It was the look of ‘Brilliant Wizard? I think not’.

“Lily was not related to that woman through blood,” Minerva said. “Lily was adopted as an infant, you know that.”

“Do I?” Albus asked, quite shocked by that. It did explain the quite bitter letter that Albus once received from Petunia Evans when she was only a girl. It did nothing to resolve the issue of where Harry Potter could grow up safely at.

Perhaps Albus had known… though it would have been information possibly shared with him ten years ago when Lily was a first year at Hogwarts.

Albus sighed, saddened once again with the loss of the Potters. Only twenty-one… it was a true travesty.

“Very well,” Albus said softly, looking again at the child who would need protected. “Do we know where to begin searching for Lily’s family? The protection that Harry would have through her bloodline is worth taking our time to find his closest living relative.”

Protecting Harry was Albus’s top priority… if nothing else, it was the last gift he could give to the witch and wizard who gave their lives in the battle of good against evil.

In a new continent, in a world much different from the one that they left behind…

Albus and Minerva approached the quiet house that was owned by the older brother of Lily Evans. The man had never met Lily, the two were both placed with adoptive services at birth and never knew of their connection.

Albus had wrote a letter, explaining the connection that the man had to the infant bundled up and sleeping soundly in a basket charmed for comfort. A letter was a rather callous way to break the news of it all to the man, yet Albus could look around the small town and believe that a letter would be better received than his presence.

“Good luck, Harry Potter,” Albus whispered as he tucked the letter in the basket with the boy. “We will meet again, young one.”

Minerva stifled a sob, the poor woman had grown attached to James’s son during the days they searched for a blood relative. It was understandable, Harry was a sweet boy.

Albus very much looked forward to seeing him again in eleven years time.

“You think they’ll keep him safe? Happy? Loved?” Minerva asked.

Albus waited to answer her until after he cast the ward, smiling in relief when the protection was cast and accepted.

“I do,” Albus said simply. He looked again at the house where Harry would grow up. It was simple, clean. The windowpanes were painted a cheery yellow color, the front door was the most delightful shade of blue.

Albus pictured that the family inside was happy, would be happier still to have a new addition that was as darling as Harry was.

Yes, Albus thought that the Swan family in Forks, Washington would be a much happier home for Harry Potter than the Dursley home in Little Whining.

All that was left was to meet with the principal (a funny American term for headmaster) of Ilvermony and inform them in no uncertain terms that Harry Potter would attend Hogwarts when the time came.

The Americans, Albus knew, could be quite stubborn and it might require a vast amount of threats and bribery to ensure they didn’t poach the boy.

When Harry left the castle, he knew he was meant to walk to the forest.

Harry knew that. Harry knew that he only had so much time until Voldemort would storm the castle and make good on his threat to kill every person that came between him and Harry.

Yet Harry’s feet still took him to the right, directly toward the Black Lake. The water was an eerie calm when compared to the death and destruction that had torn apart the lawns. It was upsetting to see that the entire world hadn’t shifted with the weight of the battle, but comforting that some things would stay consistent, calm.

The lake had been the very best part of Hogwarts, even if Harry couldn’t actually fish in it, it always helped to calm him when everything else was too much.

It reminded Harry of home and Harry needed that reminder then when it became clear that he would never go home again.

It was Harry’s death or an endless reign of a serial killer who eluded arrest, capture, or death.

Harry knew there wasn’t a real choice being given to him. Harry was given information, information to have him do the right thing. And Harry would, he had served and he would protect, it was only…

It was only that Harry needed just one damn minute to deal.

One minute to stand beside the lake and whisper goodbye to all the things he would never again experience.

A quick peck of Ginny’s cheek, grinning when she swatted at him during a meal. A laugh shared with his buddies when they raced through the skies.

Harry would never be forced to attend a pottery class with his mom when he visited her. Harry would never get to tease his sister about her love of books when she visited him.

Worse than all of that, the worse loss that threatened to crush Harry from the inside out, was that Harry would never get to talk to his dad again. Never again would they share a conversation during one of their takeout nights in front of the TV. Harry wouldn’t get to see if the Seahawks went to the Super Bowl - he couldn’t surprise Dad with tickets if they did.

“Look, kiddo, Mason’s one hell of a quarterback, but with Erickson coaching? They don’t have a snowballs chance in hell of going to the Super Bowl this year.”

Harry grinned and let his dad’s patient critique of Harry’s favorite team wash away the cold tendrils of fear that the boggart had left inside him.

Dad wasn’t dead, there was no bad guy who took him down. Dad was at home in Forks, probably having a Busch Light while he watched the recap on ESPN. It was Harry who was far away then, Harry who was at school and missing his dad fiercely.

“Yeah, you might be right,” Harry agreed, staying quiet so he didn’t wake anyone else up in his dorm. It wasn’t that big of a deal to accidentally wake someone on a Saturday night, but every time Dean Thomas saw Harry’s phone he would drain the battery trying to call all of his relatives.

Harry was kind of a selfish tool about his phone, even though it was technically a bribe from Mister Dumbledore in order for Dad to even let Harry attend Hogwarts. It was Harry’s only way to stay in contact with his dad and it was a pain in the butt to send off to Hermione’s parents to charge for him when the battery ran dead.

And Dad hated sending letters with Hedwig, neither of them were big on writing letters. The only letter Harry wrote was one to his mom and Bella once a week, full of lies about ‘boarding school’. Harry sent it to Dad, Dad mailed it to them.

Dad knew about Hogwarts, but they kinda decided that Mom and Bella didn’t need the details. With the two of them living clear down in Arizona, it didn’t make any sense to worry them. Dad just said that he thought Harry needed a better education than Forks could provide and he found a private school in New York.

Bella was starting to think it was bull, she said last summer that Harry sounded like he had been in England.

Annoying sisters who spend too much time in books…

Still though, Harry didn’t mind keeping the secret just between him and Dad. They really didn’t have anyone else, it had mostly been the two of them since Harry’s parents split up when he was a kid. Mom moved to Arizona and took Bella, Dad stayed in Washington and kept Harry.

It had been hard for a couple of years, Harry didn’t remember much - he just knew he spent a lot of time with Uncle Billy and his kids while Dad worked. It was easier when Harry got old enough to make himself cereal in the mornings and get himself dressed for school.

That was before Hogwarts though… before Harry had to leave the life he was happy in and go to a school where boggarts in trunks could pop out and make him think his dad was dead.

Dad would call it a bunch of bullshit, if Harry told him about it. Harry wasn’t going to though, he just wanted to talk about the Seahawks until the boggart was only a bad memory.

“If they go to the Super Bowl will you tell Mrs McGonagall that our close family friend passed away and I need to come home for a weekend?” Harry asked, sort of just needing to hear Dad say he could come home if he wanted. To sweeten the deal, he added, “I’ll buy us the best tickets to the game.”

Dad chuckled and that made Harry grin. Dad didn’t always laugh a lot, but most all of his laughs were shared with Harry.

“If your damn team makes it to the Super Bowl, I’ll take a week off and we can spend it celebrating,” Dad said. “I’ll even pretend I can’t see you and Paul sneaking sips of my beer.”

It was a small moment, just a quiet laugh shared between father and son, but it made Harry dream of blue waters and fish that bit every time he cast his line that night.

Every one of those small moments that Harry craved through the last nine months of constant work and threats… they were never going to be given back to him.

Harry was glad that Bella had moved back in with Dad in December, it meant that Dad wasn’t going to be alone. It was bad enough when Harry had to leave for school, he couldn’t even think about how much it was going to kill him when Harry never returned home.

Dad didn’t pick favorite kids, that’s what he said. Dad loved Harry and Bella the same, even if Harry was adopted and Bella was biologically his. Harry never doubted that Dad loved them the same, but Harry and Dad had always been a hell of a lot closer than Dad and Bella were.

Harry was the one who went fishing with Dad, camping and hunting when the weather wasn’t too crappy. Harry was the one who read Grandma Swan’s fish fry recipe and learned how to make the best fried fish that anyone in Forks ever tasted. Harry was the one who was going to finish Hogwarts, apply to take the muggle GED, then work on the force with Dad while he went to the community college.

Or… Harry ducked his head when the truth of the matter hit him full force… Harry was supposed to do that.

They had it all planned out. Harry was going to marry Ginny, let her travel with her quidditch team while Harry took care of the house that he was going to buy just down the road from Dad. In a few years, Harry would ask her to marry him - she’d say yeah - and they’d be twice as happy as either sets of their parents had ever been.

Ginny was going to be crushed, but Dad would be more crushed.

Maybe Ginny would make the trip to tell Dad about the war when it was safe… Harry didn’t tell Dad anything about it, he just packed his bags and ‘left for school’ a little earlier than usual over the summer. Harry didn’t want to worry his dad, but it had been hard keeping so much secret from him.

Dad liked Ginny though, he’d like it if she came to visit and held his hand while she told him about what happened. Dad wouldn’t cry or anything when she was there, Bella would though.

Harry bent down, intending to pick up one more flat stone to skip across the lake one last time, and that was when he felt it. Tucked safely in his pocket, pressing against his thigh then as a silent reminder that not every small moment had to be out of reach, was Harry’s phone.

Should Harry call his dad? Hear his voice one more time? Push through their mutual discomfort over mushy moments and be the one to tell him that Harry loved him and was grateful to have been raised by him?

Yeah, that was the kind of thing that Harry shouldn’t leave up to Ginny. Even if Dad thought she was a great girl, a good match for his only son, Harry needed to tell him those things himself.

So… one more phone call to the most important person in Harry’s life.

Harry focused hard on the calm waters, willing himself to stay calm, when he powered his phone on and scrolled through his contacts to get to his dad. The photo that popped up when Harry clicked his name was almost enough to break Harry down.

It had been at a Washington State home basketball game. Uncle Billy got Harry and Dad tickets for Harry’s birthday and they made a weekend out of it by staying at a cheap motel and eating out at greasy fast food joints. They took a picture together at the game to send Bella, she was always complaining they never took pictures of anything they did. Dad had on a foam basketball hat they picked up at the souvenir shop and Harry held up a large foam finger.

Harry especially liked that day because the lady who took the picture of them said how much they looked alike. Dad had kind of grinned at Harry and winked, Harry had snickered about it.

It had been a good day.

Harry would try hard to think about the cool stadium, the overly salted popcorn, and how much fun he had when he was walking through the forest alone in a few minutes.

It took Dad a minute to get to his phone, he always kept it one of the wireless phones on his dresser in case he was in bed when Harry called him. Harry hadn’t called lately, not since before Malfoy Manor, but it didn’t matter.

Dad answered after a few rings and even hearing his sleepy “Hello?” was worth the call.

“Hey, Dad,” Harry said, staying calm and telling himself it was just another small moment of quiet comfort between him and his dad. “Were you sleeping?”

“Only resting my eyes,” Dad joked. Dad never fell asleep, he only ever rested his eyes. “What’s going on with you, kiddo?”

Everything.

“Nothing much,” Harry said softly. He blinked away some moisture that tried to blur the lake in front of him. “Hey, remember the fishing trip we took up in Vancouver? The one where we got chased by that damn pack of wolves?”

If Dad was confused about why Harry was bringing that up, he didn’t say so. Dad just huffed a quiet laugh and Harry heard the bedsprings that squeaked, probably Dad swinging his feet out of bed to get a good stretch in.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dad said. “I remember you got knocked out of the boat and still caught the biggest damn trout I ever saw.”

“Twelve and a half pounds,” Harry bragged. It had been a big trout, there was a photo of it framed in their living room. Harry caught a crummy cold after taking a dive in the ocean, but it was worth it.

“That wasn’t the part I was thinking of though,” Harry told his dad, reminding himself that he was on a time limit if he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. “You remember when we were running from that wolf and you told me to climb the tree?”

Harry had been shivering, cold and filled with adrenaline while Dad cursed and tried to shoot one of the wild coyotes that chased them. Dad told Harry to climb up a tree and usually Harry was a good climber, but he’d been cold and shaking and couldn’t get a grip to save his life. Dad had been the one to bend over and tell Harry to use him like a step stool so he could grab a branch and swing himself up.

“I - yeah, suppose I do,” Dad said. “Strange time for memory lane, kiddo. It’s about midnight in your part of the world, isn’t it?”

Four minutes until midnight according to Harry’s watch. Four minutes left until Harry needed to take the final hit, do his part for the war efforts.

“Yeah,” Harry said, his heart sinking like a stone in the lake. “I was just thinking about what you told me that day, do you remember?”

It took Dad a second or two to remember the words he shared with Harry on the rest of the walk through the forest that day. Harry didn’t understand why Dad had let Harry actually step on him to climb the tree, not when it meant Dad could have gotten hurt.

Harry remembered what he said though, Harry had never forgotten.

Harry had been wrapped up in Dad’s jacket, trying to pretend like he wasn’t freezing and wishing he was allowed to use magic during holiday. In an effort to distract himself from how cold it was, Harry asked Dad about why he had risked getting attacked by the coyotes just so Harry could climb up the tree easier.

“Because part of being a man means that when something’s attacking, threatening someone or something you care about, you can’t think of yourself,” Dad had said after taking a few minutes to pick his words. It had embarrassed Harry some with the mushiness, but it was nice to hear it too.

“You’ll have moments like that when you’re a man too, kiddo, and when it comes? You won’t care about your safety, you’ll care about keeping the things important to you safe.”

Harry thought about how he had jumped down the trapdoor on the third floor a month before to try and keep other people safe from Voldemort returning.

“Makes sense to m-me,” Harry said through teeth that wouldn’t quit chattering. “Next time maybe you should just shoot faster though, you’re getting rusty.”

Dad laughed then, a loud and warm laugh that was just as good as sunshine would be in warming Harry up.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dad told Harry over the phone then. Dad’s tone shifted, no longer sleepy or amused. It was his interrogation voice, the one that told Harry to fess up or face the consequences. “What’s going on, Harry? Why the late night pep talk?”

“It’s been a bad day,” Harry said, a half-truth. “You know I miss you, don’t you? I - I love you, Dad. I’m real glad that you’re my dad.”

The words came out sort of awkward, Harry didn’t say them very often because he didn’t need to. That didn’t mean they weren’t true though, Harry was lucky to have been raised by Charlie Swan.

If Harry didn’t say the words often, Dad said them even less often. He said them then though, and it was all Harry needed to hear.

“I’m real glad you’re my boy, Harry. You’re the best damn son a man could hope to have. I love you too, you know that.”

Yeah, Harry knew that.

It was one of those universal truths that Harry carried directly through the forest all the way to his death:

The Seattle Seahawks were due for a comeback. Ordering shrimp pasta at Patsy’s would give a man a stomachache for days. And Harry had been loved by the best dad that he could have ever hoped to have.

Harry Swan had been given a second chance at life and he didn’t plan on letting himself have one single regret.

A week after the final battle of the Second Wizarding War, Harry and Ginny arrived in Forks, Washington together. Their hands were wrapped up in each others and their shared a smile that was sad and hopeful and a little bit guiltily excited.

Fred’s death hurt, it was going to hurt for a long time, but they were still alive and they had to keep moving forward. Which meant that they needed to go back to Harry’s home and tell his dad the news that Dad had warned Harry against doing his whole life.

Dad jumped up from the couch the instant Harry opened the front door and it only took him a second before he was grinning and making his way to the mud room to give Harry and Ginny each a hug. Dad tried to make his hug brief, he wasn’t much of a hugger but being separated since July made it a special exception. Harry wouldn’t let go of him for a long time though, silently thanking any God there might be for not breaking his dad’s heart.

“You look hungry,” Dad said, his voice sort of rough and his brown eyes sharp as he took Harry in. It wasn’t much of a ‘welcome home’ to anyone else, but Harry and Dad communicated in their own way.

“I could eat,” Harry grinned. Harry knew that Dad would see the fading bruises, the new scars, and the weight he lost during the months on the run with Ron and Hermione.

Harry might explain later, if he thought Dad’s heart could handle it, but he wanted to share his news first.

“Hey, is Bells home?” Harry asked. He didn’t see his truck in the driveway, the one he told Bella she could use while he was gone. That didn’t mean much though, the truck could have died while Harry was gone.

“Nah, she’s off with Edward Cullen,” Dad said the unfamiliar name bitterly, instantly clueing Harry in to who he must be.

Did Harry’s sister go and get a damn boyfriend while Harry was fighting a war? And what kind of stupid name was Edward?

“Hmm.” Harry shook his head, pushed that news off for the time being. “Well,” he looked over at Ginny and she smiled at him, encouraging him to share their news so she could show off the ring, “we’ve got some news, Dad.”

Dad stuck his hands in the pockets of his lazy-day sweats and looked from Harry’s shit-eating grin to where Ginny’s left hand was tucked carefully behind her back. Dad was a smart man and it only took him a second to pick up the pieces of the puzzle.

“Engaged?” Dad asked, a grin slowly stretching across his face.

“Engaged!” Ginny cried, pulling her hand out and brandishing the ring Harry gave her.

It was sooner than Harry planned, but he was alive and didn’t think he needed to wait. They did it, they won the war. The buzzer on Harry’s game went off and Harry was still on the court.

There wasn’t any reason to wait and Harry didn’t regret the decision at all.

“Can’t pretend I didn’t know this was coming.” Dad shook his head, but he hugged Ginny again. “Welcome to the family, Gin.”

Ginny seemed close to tears when she hugged Charlie then and Harry knew she was thinking about her own family who had been happy for them, but mourned the member who would never celebrate milestones with them again.

“Thank you.” Ginny sniffled and then pulled away from Dad, forcing a laugh. “Sorry,” she fanned her eyes and Harry knew the embarrassed blush on her face wasn’t fake - Ginny wasn’t a break down and cry kind of girl, it was one of many things Harry loved about her. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Ginny knew Harry’s house just fine, she had been there the summer before for a week, endlessly screwing with Dad and whispering questions about ‘muggle things’ to Harry when they were alone. Harry just waited for her to make her way up the stairs to the bathroom before he stood up straight and waited to hear what Dad had to say about the early engagement.

“Thought we agreed you wouldn’t ask her until she was older?” Dad asked him, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Dad wasn’t mad, just confused. It was the kind of decision that Harry wouldn’t usually rush.

“Her brother Fred died,” Harry told Dad, staying quiet so Ginny wouldn’t hear him. “It kind of made me realize that life’s short, isn’t it? Why wait?”

Dad’s eyes softened and Harry knew he was thinking of his biological sister, the woman that neither of them ever really knew and both wished they had.

“That’s rough,” Dad said sympathetically. “I know something like that can make you think time’s short, but you’re young, kiddo. You don’t wanna turn out like me, do you?”

Harry blinked at his dad, surprised by that kind of stupid question. Dad probably meant his young marriage, quick divorce. That didn’t matter to Harry though, it didn’t matter as much as all the other things that made up the man that his father was.

“Actually,” Harry shrugged and grinned crookedly, pretending like he wasn’t being about as mushy as mud, “there’s no one in the world I’d rather turn out like.”