The Tenth Weasley - CH - 66

The next morning, Harry was sitting at the breakfast table, sipping his tea, when the fireplace in the living room roared to life with emerald flames. Out stepped a petite figure, bundled in a cloak, dusting off the remnants of Floo powder.

“Rose! Harry!” Astoria Greengrass greeted with a bright smile.

Rose practically squealed and rushed over to her friend. “Astoria! You made it!”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Rose was practically bouncing with excitement. Lily, who was arranging plates on the table, looked up with a warm smile. “Astoria, dear, welcome. Did your parents let you come all by yourself?”

Astoria nodded, her cheeks flushed from the journey. “Yes, Mrs. Potter. Mum thought it would be good to visit. And since Daphne is still busy with her holiday preparations, I thought I’d come over and see Rose.”

James, who was skimming the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, looked up. “Ah, another Gryffindor in the house. You’re more than welcome, Astoria.”

Harry gave Astoria a polite nod, and she responded with a quick, almost nervous smile. “Hi, Harry,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

“Hey, Astoria. Good to see you,” Harry replied, giving her a small smile.

Astoria’s face lit up, and she fumbled with the edge of her cloak. Rose, oblivious to the slight tension, dragged her friend towards the breakfast table. “Come on! We have loads to talk about. I thought you wouldn’t make it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Astoria replied, sneaking another glance at Harry, her cheeks a little pinker now.

James leaned over to Sirius, raising an eyebrow. “Did you notice that?” he whispered.

Sirius grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, I did. The little Greengrass has a crush,” he murmured back, barely containing his amusement.

Lily noticed too, her eyes softening as she watched Astoria practically glow whenever Harry spoke. Harry, on the other hand, was still a bit oblivious, too focused on his breakfast to pick up on the hints.

As the morning went on, it became increasingly clear. Astoria kept finding ways to sit next to Harry, laugh a little too loudly at his jokes, and casually brush her hand against his arm when reaching for the butter. Even when they decided to go out to the garden, she insisted on walking next to him, talking about how beautiful the roses were despite the winter chill.

“So, um, Harry,” Astoria started hesitantly while they were out by the garden gate, “Did you know that there’s a new magical plant exhibition coming to Diagon Alley in spring? I thought... maybe you’d be interested? You know, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know much about plants, but it sounds interesting. Maybe Daphne would want to go.”

Astoria’s hopeful expression faltered for a moment. “Yeah... maybe.”

Rose came running up to them with a handful of snow, clearly having made a miniature snowball. “Astoria! Harry! Look! I made a snow duck!”

Harry chuckled, and Astoria laughed too, a bit too loudly, before trying to regain her composure. She looked back at Harry and smiled brightly, her cheeks pink either from the cold or her nerves.

As they headed back inside, Sirius nudged James. “The girl’s got it bad. Reminds me of when Lily used to act around you before you wised up.”

James chuckled. “Yeah, but the boy doesn’t seem to notice.”

Lily just sighed, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “He’ll figure it out eventually.”

Later that afternoon, they gathered in the living room to play a few board games. Astoria insisted on being on Harry’s team, despite Rose’s protests. Every time Harry made a clever move or solved a riddle, Astoria would beam at him as if he’d just won the Triwizard Tournament.

After one particularly successful round, Harry turned to Astoria with a triumphant grin. “We did it!”

Astoria’s giggle was soft and sweet. “Yeah, we make a great team.”

Sirius whispered to Lily, “She’s practically swooning.”

Lily just gave him a look. “Be nice.”

As the day wore on, Astoria seemed to grow more confident, inching closer to Harry whenever possible. At one point, when Harry was distracted by the game, she whispered to Rose, “Do you think Harry likes me?”

Rose, who was focused on her piece on the board, looked up and smiled. “Of course he does! You’re friends, right?”

Astoria bit her lip. “Yeah... friends.”

Sirius snorted from the other side of the room, and James stifled a laugh. Even Lily was finding it hard not to smile at the obviousness of it all. Harry, still completely unaware, was engrossed in the game, oblivious to the unspoken drama unfolding right beside him.

As the evening drew closer, Astoria made a point to tell Rose, “I’ll definitely come over again tomorrow. It’s really nice here.”

Rose just grinned. “Yeah! We can play more games! Maybe even get Mum to make that treacle tart again.”

Astoria nodded, but her eyes lingered on Harry, who was helping Sirius clear up the game pieces. When Harry caught her glance, she quickly looked away, pretending to help Rose.

Once Astoria had left for the evening, James shook his head, looking at his son with a smirk. “You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

Harry frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Lily patted his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, dear. Just... be gentle with her feelings, okay?”


The famous Potter Christmas holiday was… tolerable, at best.

Harry had expected some awkward moments, but he hadn’t counted on the sheer exhaustion of constantly maneuvering through tense silences and the overly friendly attempts to patch something that had cracked years ago. The Potter home, massive and immaculate, glittered with charm-infused ornaments and candles that floated lazily through the air. Even the snow outside fell in slow, shimmering flakes—enchanted to keep the perfect holiday aesthetic.

At the dinner table, James Potter smiled too much and laughed too loudly. “So, Harry,” he said one evening, carving the roast with exaggerated precision, “you are playing Quidditch for Slytherin? Or have they promoted you to Minister of Snakes yet?”

Harry clenched his jaw, placing his fork down. “I’m not on the team, actually. I prefer reading in my free time.”

Sirius Black let out a bark of a laugh, lounging in his chair with a glass of firewhisky in hand. “Not on the team? Blimey, what kind of self-respecting wizard turns down Quidditch for books?”

“Maybe the kind who knows there’s more to magic than catching a ball,” Harry replied dryly.

“Oh, come on,” Sirius chuckled, nudging James. “Remind you of Remus a bit, eh? Always had his nose in a book. Except Lupin never missed a game.”

Lily, who had been passing the gravy, smiled a bit too tightly. “That’s enough, Sirius. Harry’s interests are his own.”

“But you have to admit,” James added, “it’s a bit odd that a Potter, of all people, chose Slytherin.”

Harry didn’t respond, just reached for his glass of pumpkin juice.

Rose, oblivious to the tension, was humming a carol as she spooned potatoes onto her plate. “Astoria’s coming again tomorrow!” she said brightly. “We’re going to make gingerbread dragons!”

“That’s nice,” Lily said with genuine warmth, grateful for the change in topic.

Harry gave Rose a small smile. He’d grown to appreciate her presence more than he expected—her innocence was a much-needed buffer in the Potter house. The weight of being a guest, of being someone they weren’t quite sure how to handle, pressed on him daily.

But the moment that brought real relief was the next afternoon, when the fireplace flared to green and Astoria Greengrass stepped out in a swirl of traveling robes. And right behind her, to everyone’s surprise—including Harry’s—came Daphne.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Harry said with a faint smile as Daphne brushed soot from her cloak.

“I couldn’t let Astoria have all the fun,” she replied with her usual composure. “Besides, I figured someone needed to save you from the tension in this house.”

Astoria gave a small pout, her eyes flicking toward Harry. “I didn’t invite her,” she mumbled under her breath to Rose. “I wanted today to be just us.”

Rose didn’t notice the change in her friend’s tone and pulled Astoria excitedly toward the dining room. “Mum said we could decorate cookies!”

Lily greeted Daphne warmly. “It’s good to see you again, dear. You’re always welcome here.” She turned to Harry. “Why don’t you show Daphne the sitting room? I’ll send in cocoa.”

Sirius, now hovering near the mantel, snorted. “Don’t let them near the books, or they’ll charm the tree to recite Latin again.”

Harry led Daphne away before the conversation devolved further.

As they entered the quieter side of the manor, Daphne let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know how you’re surviving this.”

They sat together on the long velvet couch near the window. Outside, snow dusted the courtyard. For a few moments, there was peace.

Daphne turned to him. “Astoria’s… not thrilled I came.”

“She’s been acting strange,” Harry admitted. “Every time I talk to you, she looks like she’s about to hex the room.”

“She’s twelve,” Daphne said with a slight smirk. “She’ll get over it. Eventually.”

Harry looked at her, grateful. “Thanks for coming.”

“I didn’t come for her,” Daphne replied. “I came because you needed someone who remembers how to talk like a normal person.”

They both laughed quietly, and for the first time in days, Harry didn’t feel like a stand-in for someone else.

Not a spare of Charlie Potter. Not an abandoned son. Not a misunderstood Slytherin.

Just Harry.

And even if the holidays weren’t perfect, having someone like Daphne by his side made it easier to breathe.


The snow was falling softly over Diagon Alley, the cobblestone streets dusted in shimmering white as wizards and witches bustled from shop to shop, their robes wrapped tight against the cold. Christmas lights twinkled in reds and golds, suspended by charmed strings above the street, casting the Alley in a festive glow. The air buzzed with excitement, laughter, and the hoots of postal owls flying in all directions, burdened with colorfully wrapped packages.

Three days before Christmas, the Potters—James, Lily, Rose, and Harry—stepped through the Floo Network into the Leaky Cauldron and made their way toward the brick wall behind the pub. James tapped the bricks with his wand, and the archway to Diagon Alley unfolded before them with its usual grandeur.

“Remember,” Lily said, adjusting her winter cloak, “we’re shopping for others, not for ourselves.”

“But Mum—” Rose began to protest.

“We’ll see,” Lily added with a smirk, glancing at her daughter and then at Harry, who was pulling on his gloves and already scanning the alleyway.

“I need to send gifts to my parents and the others,” Harry said, half to himself. “Blaise, Daphne, Hermione, Luna, Astoria…”

“We can help you with that,” James offered. “No need to worry about the cost, Harry.”

But Harry only gave a small smile. “I’ve got it.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Harry, it’s okay to—”

“Let’s just get to Gringotts first,” Harry cut in gently. “I’ll need to withdraw a bit anyway.”

They reached the towering white building where goblins bustled about in their dark uniforms. Inside, the marble floor gleamed like polished bone, and the counters buzzed with activity. A goblin in gold-framed spectacles eyed them with mild interest before leading Harry away.

James and Lily stood waiting as Harry followed the goblin through the high-arched halls toward the carts. Rose fidgeted beside them, bouncing on her heels. “Do we have to wait long? I want to go to Sugarplum’s first!”

“Patience,” Lily said, smiling, but she couldn’t help glancing down the corridor. “I thought the Weasleys handled Harry’s vaults… how much could he really have?”

The answer came soon enough.

When Harry returned, there was a slight flush to his cheeks from the cold wind inside the cart tunnel, and he handed the goblin a small bag filled with golden galleons. He noticed the way James blinked at the size of the pouch.

“You didn’t have to withdraw that much,” James said cautiously.

Harry shrugged. “It’s not even one percent of the interest.”

Lily blinked. “Excuse me?”

“All the Weasleys have a vault ,” Harry said casually.

James said nothing, but his eyebrows rose slightly. Lily gave Harry a look of mixed surprise and pride. “Well, then,” she said, recovering. “I suppose you’ll be paying for Rose’s sweets today.”

“Oh, he’s definitely paying for mine,” Rose piped in.

“Only if you help carry Blaise’s book on Latin spell-structures,” Harry teased.

The four of them set off through the street, weaving between the crowds. First, they visited Flourish and Blotts, where Harry picked out a rare volume on European ritual casting for Hermione and a first-edition botanical compendium for Luna. For Blaise, he chose a leather-bound book on ancient dueling techniques, and for Daphne, a set of enchanted quills that adjusted to a wizard’s natural handwriting flow.

At Madam Malkin’s, Rose insisted Harry help pick out the perfect winter scarf for Astoria. “She has green eyes, so maybe emerald?”

“She’s a Gryffindor,” Harry reminded her.

“So red with gold trim,” Rose said brightly. “Obviously.”

They wrapped and tagged the gifts at the Owl Post Office, where Rose marveled at the efficiency of the snowy owls and horned owls fluttering back and forth in rows. Harry selected a regal-looking owl to deliver his gifts to the Greengrasses and a more nimble barn owl for Blaise’s remote manor. One particularly grumpy tawny owl refused to carry both Luna and Hermione’s packages, so Harry had to charm a second one.

James watched all this quietly, occasionally glancing at Harry with a mixture of puzzlement and something softer—respect, perhaps. Lily, for her part, helped Harry choose wrapping charms and tied each parcel with a flick of her wand.

“You know,” Lily said softly to Harry over her mug, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Harry replied. “They’re my friends.”

There was a pause.

“Weasleys must be proud of you,” Lily added gently.

Harry met her eyes. “They are my parents,” he said. “The ones who raised me.”

And for a moment, nothing else needed to be said.