Chapter 2
The morning sun cast a gentle glow across Harry's room, creating an atmosphere of tranquility that clashed sharply with the chaos that had unfolded the night before. Despite waking up to a scaly body suffocating him and a pointy tail rudely tapping against his side, Harry had started the day feeling strangely rested.
His peace didn’t last long though and as he shifted in bed, his gaze fell upon the innocently lying letter on his desk. The calm shattered like fragile glass, and the memories of the disastrous previous day rushed back with a vengeance. He tried to stifle a scream with his pillow, knowing that he was in for another round of dealing with the consequences of his own unfortunate decisions.
Cursing himself and his penchant for absurdity, Harry allowed a few minutes of self-pity to wash over him. The room seemed to echo with the remnants of his muffled frustrations.
Sadly he was denied the opportunity to make an even bigger clown of himself trying to get out of the mess he created yesterday because, in less than five seconds, one of the Nyturas that had invaded his room flitted from Harry's bed to the table and before Harry could fully comprehend the situation, the tiny creature bit into the letter. Panic surged through Harry and he frantically stood up, trying to intercept the hatchling.
“No, no, no, no— fuck!” Harry's voice echoed in the room as his feet became ensnared in the bedsheet and he face-planted unceremoniously onto the floor. Untangling himself with a mix of embarrassment and urgency, Harry tried to halt the hatchling's escape, but it was too late. He could only watch in dismay as the Nytura jumped through the window, breaking it, and leaving behind a shattered mess of glass and a thoroughly dumbfounded Harry.
He didn’t get paid enough to take care of his eight little troublemakers, delightful as they were and as much as he loved them, they made his life infinitely more complicated.
The good news was that he knew exactly which one of the hatchlings was to blame.
Maybe Harry had cursed himself when he had named him. From the very beginning, Eros had been a handful. The first time he had bitten someone it was because he had escaped Harry’s careful watch and started to spread chaos through the library. He didn’t stop until he found a famous romance author who was visiting the library and decided to sink his teeth.
And since then Eros had been… quirky.
He stubbornly refused to learn anything that wasn’t related to love in some way. The small Nytura terrorized the library, biting soulmates researchers, and romance authors with unfettered enthusiasm.
In his pursuit of love-related knowledge, Eros had become fixated on love magic and romance literature, discarding any other form of information. It had become normal for Harry to hear Eros' discontented grumbles as he attempted to decipher the intricacies of love within the pages of different soul-magic theory books, although lately he could be found perched on the pile of James’ hidden cheesy romance books meticulously devouring the words from a particularly dramatic love novel.
Unfortunately, that ended up making Eros develop a matchmaker complex, inspired by the romantic tales he had absorbed. His perception of love had taken a whimsical turn, and he now harbored the notion that he possessed the wisdom to guide Harry to true love.
And so, likely seizing an opportunity to further indulge his Cupid complex, Eros had decided to take matters into his own claws and snatched the letter from Harry's desk.
To further complicate matters, Eros was so focused on learning about love that he had yet to master the art of flying. As Harry peered through the broken window, he watched the Nytura— letter clutched in his small jaws— take to the air, wobbling precariously and fluttering unsteadily, perpetually on the verge of falling.
Harry was debating if he should open the shattered window and chase the runaway hatchling, if not to recover the letter to at least prevent the crazy Nytura from hurting himself or some innocent bystander trying to fly– if you could call whatever Eros was doing flying– when a message bubble, with an urgent notification glowing in the corner, popped up in front of his face, chiming pleasantly for acceptance.
He was momentarily distracted and when he looked back through the window he couldn’t see the Nytura or the letter anymore. Harry could only pray Eros wouldn’t cause more trouble and decided to come back or he would have to explain how exactly he lost a Nytura and why they weren’t sleeping in their stalls.
His morning had started out great, the bubble that practically vibrated and spun around him demanding attention only made it better. At least this time the sender was somebody he recognized— not like last week when he had been woken up at four-thirty in the morning by an earth dragel that had accidentally messaged him. Truly, who sent messages at such an unreasonable hour? Harry hadn’t been awake enough to find out. He had half-listened to them talking about some urgent shady deal before he decided it wasn’t his problem and abruptly hung up.
It looked like Kandra had decided it was time for the explanation she had been promised. Harry sighed mourning the calm morning he never got to have and reached for the hyperactive bubble.
But just before he could touch it a spell flew past him and a familiar voice started to ramble “You should always scan your messages, you know how—” Harry had to repress a groan when he recognized that specific talk. One he had heard enough times to memorize it, though apparently not enough times to interiorize it. He was also aware of his father’s affinity to hear his voice while he talked so he knew he had to do something or he would be stuck listening to James ramble for at least twenty minutes. So he did the only logical thing and reached for the closest thing— a large stuffed toy of a shaggy black dog— and carefully threw it to his father hoping it would distract him and cut the hundred and three examples of how somebody could curse him via message bubbles.
He was rewarded with a grunt, more annoyed than pained when the object hit its target, unfortunately, his dad didn’t stay silent for long. “Auch! Don’t hit your dad Bambi. You’re lucky it was me, if it was anybody else you could have taken out an eye.” James stood at the threshold of the door of Harry’s room, rearranging his glasses. Most thought James wore glasses because he was making some kind of fashion statement but the truth was that not even his inheritance had been able to make him stop seeing blurry. Thankfully Harry had inherited Sirius’ nameless talent, besides James’ horrible vision, and he could change his vision without needing glasses. “I was just coming to check if you were okay. We heard something that suspiciously sounded like glass breaking, but that surely couldn’t be true. There is no way you broke your window for the third time this month, right?” he said pointedly looking at Harry, who was trying to cover the broken pieces of glass with his body. “You know what, I don’t even want to know. Just— just make sure your room is as it should be before Lils and Moony see it. And make sure to check your messages, we really don’t need to add you being cursed this week.” His dad finished walking away while shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath.
The bubble kept hitting Harry’s cheek to get his attention so, after casting the appropriate spells so he didn’t lose a hand or end up covered in glitter, he poked the impatient thing.
Harry stood in the living room, rummaging through the assortment of fake IDs his papa had amassed over the years. He needed to disguise himself before heading to Kandra's house; he didn't want to risk being recognized. As he searched, he called out to his papa, who was lounging in the nearby armchair.
“Papa, can I borrow Jake today?” Harry called out, his fingers brushing against a stack of papers as he searched.
Sirius glanced up from his book with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going out now?”
Harry nodded absentmindedly, his hands still sifting through the papers in the drawer. “Yeah. Can I borrow him?”
Sirius shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No can do. Jake is currently on vacation to another realm. He won't be back till next month.”
Harry pulled a face, disappointed. “Ugh. What about Gwen? She's supposed to be here now, right?”
Sirius studied his son for a moment before responding, his tone tinged with amusement. “Yeah, but you can't have her.”
Confusion flashed across Harry's face as he stopped rummaging to stare at his papa. “Huh? What do you mean I can't have her?”
Sirius leveled a pointed stare at Harry. “Last time you took her, you almost burnt half of a shop. Do you know how many contacts I lost that day? No way I'm letting you trash poor Gwen's remaining reputation. Oh, and you're banned from any other fire identities until I can trust you with a lighter and alcohol again.”
Harry winced at the reminder of the disaster that was his last outing as Gwen. “It wasn't that bad,” he protested weakly trying to excuse himself but he flattered at his papa’s face and ended up finishing rather lamely. “The fire wasn't even that big.”
But Sirius' deadpan look, unmoved by his son's excuses, told Harry that his father wasn't about to budge on the matter. “Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “I won't take fire identities. Who can I take? Ali? Blair?”
Sirius considered for a moment before responding, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You can take Dave.”
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. “You're giving me Dave? Come on papa, not Dave.”
Sirius chuckled, clearly amused by his son's reaction. “Oh yes. You're only getting Dave until you can learn to behave yourself.”
Harry pleaded with his father, desperation creeping into his voice. “But Papa, Dave is like... I don't even have words because there is nothing to describe! He’s so bland! Please, not Dave. Last time I used him I was dragged to a studio and had to sit in front of a wall watching it dry. For six whole hours! And then I was forced to make a review about the paint, the time it took to apply, and statistics and stuff. Please Siri, anyone but Dave. Can't I take Dag? He's not fire, and I'm actually an empath, so I won't mess that up.”
Sirius shook his head adamantly, his decision final. "Nope. You can't take Dag. I'm using him later."
Harry scoffed, not believing his father's excuse. “No way, you just made that up. You never use Dag.”
Sirius feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Excuse me? Don't insult Dag like that, I use him plenty. For your information, he is a certified psychologist with great reviews. All of his clients say he is a very calm person, and that his empathy brings them peace.”
Harry rolled his eyes, unimpressed by his father's attempt to defend Dag's credentials. “You literally told someone that his diagnosis was “being sad”. You said, and I quote, that the symptoms were crying and that the remedy was “eating chocolate”. Specifically Cry&Eat chocolate. The only reason he has good reviews it’s because people only come to flirt with him and you flirt back. And Dag's certificate is as fake as anyone liking James’ cooking.”
Sirius shrugged unapologetic, a smirk playing at his lips.”Well, we've got to make advertising somehow. And for your peace of mind, the client was very satisfied with the treatment. What does it matter if Eat&Cry coincidentally belongs to our lovely Ali? Anyway, you get Dave or nothing.”
“It's Cry&Eat dad, you literally named the brand. Besides who would buy something that the literal name tells you it’s so bad you’ll cry, it doesn’t make sense there isn’t any type of–” Harry cut himself exasperated. He always had the same discussion with Sirius and judging by his smirk it was because he always riled him up.
Defeated, Harry sighed in resignation. “Fine, I'll take Dave. But I make no promises if I have to watch paint dry again.”
“I was kidding, I know it’s named Cry It” Harry’s left eye twitched in annoyance and he was debating if he should correct his father again and start another discussion or throw something at him to wipe his shit-eating smirk when Sirius tossed him an ID with a picture of a very plain-looking man with short brown hair and blue eyes. “Here, bring him back by seven, or I'm not responsible if you get summoned to test new products.”
Harry caught the identity card, his fingers already tingling with the anticipation of shifting his appearance. “Fine,” he agreed, slipping effortlessly into the guise of Dave. His appearance morphed seamlessly and he grew a bit to become an average-looking man with light blue wings. Harry’s clothes were now a bit short so he changed them for Dave’s preferred clothing that gave away his status as an advisor. “I'm not sure if I'll make it back for lunch though. I'll message you if it gets late.”
Just as Harry was about to leave, Sirius stopped him. “Wait! Aren't you forgetting something?”
Before Harry could respond, a handful of glitter was thrown at him. Harry scrunched his face to avoid getting any in his eyes, then looked at his father incredulously.
“Glitter!” Sirius declared proudly, satisfied with himself. “There, now you sparkle. And you said our Dave was plain. You can't be part fae without a sprinkle of fairy dust.”
Harry rolled his eyes, unable to suppress a small smile. “Thanks,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.