#iwsc

Summary: Still reeling from the aftermath of his memory loss, Hugh Granger faces his daughter and her best friend turned boyfriend, while also questioning the changes in their lives and personalities. Written for IWSC Season 4 Round 2.

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“Mum? Dad?”

Hermione’s shaky voice catches Hugh Granger's attention. His brain remains foggy as he orients himself to the changes in his life, two of which now sit at the dining table in his coastal home.

“Ron traveled with me—you remember Ron, right? I spent time with his family over the summers between school.”

Hermione references the tall ginger-haired boy sitting next to her boasting a sheepish grin on his face. Judging by the scruff on his chin, Ron looks older than Hugh imagined, and his stomach churns as he remembers how much time has passed.

“Ah, yes. Ronald.”

The boy she once spoke of endlessly, both good and bad.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to a name!” Jean Granger acknowledges the boy with a welcoming smile. “Any friend of Hermione’s is a friend of ours.”

“Well…” Hermione bites down on her lip to hold back a smile, leaning closer to Ron’s statue-like form.

She doesn’t have to finish the sentence; her intention is obvious.

To Hugh’s surprise, during his time as Wendell Wilkins, Ron has managed to solidify himself as Hermione’s boyfriend. Jean is thrilled, of course, reassuring her husband when they had a moment alone before dinner that Ron is a nice boy who comes from a nice magical family. Sure, that may have been the truth before their daughter erased her parents’ memories, but what is he like now?

The disgruntled thought permeates his brain as he surveys the aperitive array of roast chicken and potatoes displayed on the table. When his gaze travels to Ron, he spies the boy fidgeting with his cutlery before stashing his hands in his lap. The action was quick and subtle enough that Hugh would’ve missed it entirely if he had so much as blinked.

“This looks delicious.” Ron’s eyes light up as he tucks into the meal.

The initial conversation lends itself to trivial topics and mundane discussions of the weather in Australia. Ron asks Hugh and Jean about their favorite coastal activities and the state of their current dental practice. The boy diverges from topic to topic, always prepared with another question as soon as an answer to his previous is given, and Hugh doesn’t often have a chance to ask one of his own.

“Oh, bugger.” Ron shifts in his seat to examine a chip in the wooden chair and the snagged threads hanging loose from the end of his jumper.

"Oh, dear.” Jean frowns, making a move to stand up. “I can take a look—"

Ron shakes his head, tucking the threads into his sleeve. “Oh, it’s alright. I'll just fix it later with—well, you know."

Once again, Ron’s composure falters, even if only for a split second. Thus far, Ron’s a charming bloke who does almost everything right. He’s presentable in dress trousers and a jumper that’s only slightly frayed, offering a smile and a hello with a firm handshake.

Visions of Ron’s personality as Hermione had once described him flash through Hugh’s mind. She always wore a massive grin whenever she spoke of Ron, despite her attempts to mask the excitement when expressing annoyance over his penchant for childish behavior.

Hermione wrote home often when she was in school, and in one of her letters she went on for two paragraphs about how she wished Ron would take their classes more seriously, and perhaps, tuck in his shirt every now and then. Although Hugh’s memory is still a bit hazy, the description she gave doesn’t match up with the smartly-dressed boy he sees in front of him now.

💚🐍 Sorted 🐍💚

Hermione’s quill taps a nervous rhythm against the wooden tabletop, the only sound in the quiet library. She must be alone here. The only person not at the feast.

She was so excited to come to Hogwarts, so excited to finally be around people like her. Except not everybody is like her. It turns out there’s a big difference between muggle-borns and those with magical parents. At least to her housemates.

Hermione read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover during the summer, so she knows all about the different houses. On paper, the rivalries and bloody purity standards appeared archaic. A relic as bygone as Salazar himself.

And yet, not one of the Slytherins had spoken to her after the Sorting Hat made its choice and she took her seat beneath the green and silver banners.

Shortly after that, Hermione had excused herself from the feast, seeking solace in the one place that had always been a comfort. She has survived this far in her life with only books as friends; why should the next seven years be any different?

A creak of hinges echoes through the cavernous library, and Hermione gathers her things. It can only be the librarian here to tell her off. First years don’t have free reign of the castle, after all. It’s not Madam Pince, however, who rounds the end of the bookshelf closest to her. The boy who appears instead looks as if he ran all the way from the Great Hall.

His red hair is tousled, and based on Hermione’s interaction with the other Slytherins, the smile on his face doesn’t match the green and silver striped tie that hangs loose around his neck. She remembers seeing him briefly on the train but never caught his name, and she didn’t stick around long enough to see him sorted.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be here,” he says, leaning against the bookshelf and yanking at the knot in his tie to fully unfurl it.

Hermione gives the boy a curious frown. “Are you hiding from someone?”

“My brothers.” He sighs and rolls his bright blue eyes. “I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.”

“I’m Hermione Granger. Why are you hiding from your brothers?”

Ron shoots her a rueful smile as he holds up the tie in answer before tossing it aside. “My whole family are in Gryffindor,” he replies as he slides down the length of the bookcase to sit on the ground. “Bloody hell, I’m never going to live this down.”

Hermione frowns. She’s never heard such language from someone her own age.

Before she can comment, Ron continues, “Reckon it’s my own fault. I went up there thinking ‘I just want to be different’. But I thought, y’know, maybe Hufflepuff. Not Slytherin. Never Slytherin.”

His frustration mirrors her own, and Hermione says, “I don’t belong in Slytherin, either.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m muggle-born.”

“That’s a load of rubbish. Anybody can be a good witch or wizard. None of us knows what we’re doing yet, do we?”

“No, I guess not.”

Hermione settles on the floor across from Ron, tucking her feet beneath her as she fiddles with the end of her tie.

“Why do you think you got sorted into Slytherin, then?” Ron asks.

She wonders that herself. She hadn’t really guessed at what house she would be sorted into prior to coming to Hogwarts, preferring to keep an open mind, but her chilly welcome into Slytherin is a clear sign she doesn’t belong.

“Well, I’d like to be Head Girl one day. So ambition fits, I suppose.”

“Head Girl? We’ve only just got here!”

“I know what I want.”

Hermione shrugs and gets to her feet. Ron seemed nice enough at first, but if he’s only going to tease her, she’d rather be alone.

“Hey, wait!”

She hears the shuffle of Ron’s feet as he scrambles to follow her, and she slows her steps to allow him to catch up.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s—I mean, I get it. It’d be wicked to be Quidditch Captain one day.”

He offers her a smile that she chooses to take as sincere. Maybe it would be nice to have a friend, after all.

“Perhaps the Hat sensed ambition in you, too, then.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Ron holds his tie up in front of him as they walk, giving it a look of disdain. “But hey, at least we have each other,” he adds cheerfully.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley Characters: Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour, Victoire Weasley Additional Tags: Dancing, Fluff, Love, Baby Victoire Series: Part 2 of the broken wireless Summary:

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying—when you realised it a long time ago. Harry's journey as he deals with Cancer. Haphne. IWSC Final entry. Hogwarts JP.

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Written for the International Wizarding Schools Championship.

Round: Finals!!!

Theme: Dittany, which means healing. The theme is shown here as Harry trying his best to recover from cancer.

Year: Year 7

School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Prompts: Potions (object) [additional]

Emerald (colour) [additional]

St. Mungo's (setting) [main]

Special Rule and Link: The special rule here is used by Showing 'birth'.

Warnings: Cancer, Major character death, mentions of infertility.

A/N: In this fic, Harry and Daphne are 80, and their children 40-44 years of age. The three children Harry and Daphne have are called Sothis, Jacob, and Lily.

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14th January 2060

8:35 p.m.

Diary,

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying—when you realised it a long time ago. It's funny, really. We know we're all dying but rarely does it ever truly sink in. But in my case, I've had the pleasure of having realised this way back at the age of seventeen. I hadn't thought I'd get out of the Forbidden Forest alive again, especially if I were meant to die in the end, and so I had submitted to my sentence. I was as surprised as anyone at my continued living, I assure you, and with the amount of downright stupid things I've done in my lifetime—fighting Voldemort some five different times, riding thestrals, wandering into acromantula nests, and then contemplating becoming an auror before Daphne talked me out of it—I've already outlived my expectations, so I don't think it bothers me too much that death has come to claim me now. 

Daphne and Hermione would both glare at me for saying that probably, and Sothis, Jacob, and Lily would frown. Acquiring blood cancer does not necessarily mean death, especially since it's a muggle disease, but at the age of 80, I have my doubts. Wizards might not be as affected by muggle ailments, but this is cancer. It's been nearly ten days since I've written to you, as you might have noticed, and that was because of the numerous tests they conducted and reconducted at St. Mungo's. I've had to quit teaching at Hogwarts because of this accursed illness. Those of my family who haven't had much exposure to the muggle world didn't realise just how serious cancer was, and they were rather unconcerned—it's a muggle disease, wizards always recover from muggle diseases—but Hermione knew exactly what it was, and how serious, and she passed this information to both Ron and Daphne—even when I begged her not to—who told others. So now, everyone is extra polite around me, and extra careful. I hate how everyone looks at me like I might shatter at any moment. Even Malfoy's started acting differently again, and it's just so frustrating!

I just want everyone to get back to normal.

Harry James Potter

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8th February 2060

8:15 p.m.

Diary,

My health has gotten worse instead of better. Last week, I began coughing violently and realised that I was coughing blood. My body hurt. I also had a temperature and felt dizzy. Daphy took me to St. Mungo's as soon as she saw my pitiful state. I was kept there for a whole day while the healers ran tests and took samples. While the wizarding world doesn't use injections, their methods of extracting blood hurt just as much. The healers only let Daphy see me during around dinnertime after they thought me stable enough. Daphy was by my side the entire night after that, holding my hand, helping me eat, and then finally settling me down for the night. I hadn't seen her that tired in a long time, diary, and it was … unsettling. I wonder if I'm being too selfish in not really caring if this cursed disease takes me down. Daphne would be shattered. 

Hermione and Ron were there at the hospital before I woke up the next day, considerably late and still feeling pretty shitty. The two of them and Daphne were talking to a healer, and none of them had realised I was awake. I could only catch a few phrases of their conversation—flu, immune system, careful—but the grim expressions on their faces told me that whatever it was, it wasn't good. The healers sent me home with instructions to take some fifty odd potions every eight hours and to exercise regularly, but not so much that I overexert myself. 

I was too tired the next three days to pick up a pen to write, let alone go for a walk. But yesterday, after Daphy and I got back from the walk she had coaxed me into going for, we came home to a pleasant surprise in the form of Lily and Sebastian. Lily has always been big on surprises, but the one she gave us yesterday was the best surprise I have gotten in a long time. They're expecting their first child in July! After a number of failed tries, Lily and Sebastian had both given up on trying to have children, but that right there was proof that miracles do happen. Daphne was so happy, she had tears in her eyes. So did I. For a moment there, I think all of us present in the room were a little misty-eyed. It took a little effort to digest that bit of news, happy as it was because our sweet little witch had grown so old so fast. Wasn't it just yesterday that I had first held her in my arms? She was finally going to be a mother now! I am happy as can be, of course, but I wonder if I'll be able to live long enough to see my grandchild in this life. 

I really hope I do.

Harry James Potter

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18th March 2060

8:00 p.m.

Diary,

I don't think I'd be able to stand a single more piteous look directed toward me, even if my situation is miserable. I feel tired all the time now, even though I've been taking all my potions on time and have done all the exercises that the healers had told me to do. My body still hurts sometimes, and I feel utterly useless. The healers in St. Mungo's still take samples of my blood to see if my condition is getting any better.

They don't say so to my face, but I'm only getting worse. It is clear by the looks they direct towards me, in how Ron and Hermione both always say goodbye to me at the end of the day as if it were their last goodbye, in how Daphne strokes my cheek at night when we’re both in bed and tells me to stay strong for her. I wish they'd just tell me, so I don't have to go through everything pretending to be blissfully unaware.

Sothis and Jacob came to see me today. I hadn't seen them since my birthday last year. Sothis lives in America now with his family and practices as a curse breaker while Jacob has been wandering around the world with Lorcan Lovegood. They were upset when they'd been told of my cancer, of course, but today I truly saw how much my sickness really affected my family. If I had been my old self, I would not have wanted them to see me like this, but times have changed. At least I'm not in St. Mungo's because I wasn't able to fight a common cold. 

I really do want to get better.

Harry James Potter

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21st May 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

Things have begun to look up for me now, and I feel I've gotten a little better for the past few weeks. I don't feel as tired anymore, and Daphy does not have to force me to get out of the house. Daphy could not be happier about this. I've begun working on a book to keep me occupied. This was Hermione's idea—to write a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts from my experience as a professor and what I learnt when I was still studying for it. That I have fought the supreme leader of the dark is an added bonus. I think the one single perk of being sick is that the children come to see me more often. The others came around too, recently—the Weasleys, Neville, Luna. It felt nice to see them all after so long, but it felt a little disconcerting that this might be the last time we saw each other. I suppose that was the reason they made the visit in the first place, to see me again while they still could. 

In other news, I am in the news again. The Daily Prophet found out about my illness somehow, and it was all anyone talked about for the last week. Daphy and Hermione both blew up over the staff of St. Mungo's because no one else would ever leak any information to the Prophet of all people. Astoria, who works there, is having the board conduct an entire investigation to find the gossip. 

Lily had her first contraction while she was here with us. It was a false alarm, the baby is due in the second week of August, but it felt strange and surreal. Everyone was excited though, Lily especially, even if she complained non-stop about her backache. Things are looking up, finally, and everyone, the healers included, think that I'm going to get better quite soon. 

I hope I do.

Harry James Potter

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5th July 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

While my health had been stable enough for the past two months and was inching towards recovery, it has now gotten worse again. The healers think that I've been exposed to an infection which my body is not able to fight off. The incessant pain, the omnipresent tiredness have both returned with assorted bottles of potions that taste like sewer water. 

I was kept at St. Mungo's for a week, and the healers were still reluctant to let me go home because apparently, my immune system has become so compromised that even the mildest of bacteria or virus could be the cause of my death. It wasn't until Hermione had reasoned with them that I was more likely to be exposed to pathogens—whatever those were—in a hospital than back home that they let me go. I've been told in no uncertain terms to take all my potions on time and to get plenty of rest. The worst part is that I am to avoid the outdoors completely, so no more walks or anything. Daphne looked defeated  yet determined.

When they thought I wasn't listening, they also told Daphne and Hermione to keep the visitors to a minimum, so people coming to see me is also out of the question now, although Lily did come here the other day, so I guess the kids are allowed. 

I had thought I was getting better, but now … they don't say it to my face, but their pitiful expressions make it clear that my days now are numbered. I hope I get to see my youngest grandchild before I die, though. They aren't here yet, but I love them already.

Harry James Potter

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31st July 2060

8:45 p.m.

Diary,

It's my birthday today, but so much has changed since last year. I was teaching at Hogwarts happily. People weren't scared of sneezing around me. I was cancer free. But most importantly, I didn't have a new grandson who looked exactly like me. His eyes are the same emerald green as mine, and he has a small tuft of jet-black hair, although I really hope he has better luck with it than I have had. 

From what Daphy tells me, Lily had been visiting when her water broke. I don't know the exact details of what happened since I had been in St. Mungo's since the past week, but everyone panicked except Daphne, who had gone home for a while to shower and eat after leaving me in Hermione's care. She calmly called for a mediwitch from St. Mungo's and made preparations to transport Lily to the hospital for the delivery. 

The baby was two weeks early, but still very healthy. He had curious green eyes, and the memory of how he looked at me with interest when I first held him is still fresh in my mind. I did finally get to meet my grandchild—Lily's first child—and I couldn't possibly be happier. If I were to die now, after I've seen my grandchild, I'd die happy. My princess had finally started a family of her own, and the baby looks just like me. He's a tiny and beautiful baby, and I am so proud. Lily and Sebastian are both beaming. They named him after me and Sebastian's father—Harry Alex Grahams.

I love him.

Harry James Potter

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Harry led Hermione out of the room and Luna could hear him explaining what had happened to Ginny who had followed them. Luna dug out a handkerchief stashed away in the pocket of her dress and dialled 999 on the phone on Sirius' desk, careful not to disturb anything. However, the line was dead. A crash out of the window confirmed the reason: a flash of lightning had hit the telephone pole. "Harry, the phone's out. We will have to wait for the storm to pass and then one of us will have to head to the mainland," she said as she joined them in the entrance hall. She looked to each of her companions, one of them had to be the killer. It was unlikely that it was an outsider considering that she came on the only boat of the day and from what she could see, Sirius had been dead for an hour at most.

"But who do we send? We send the wrong person— the killer— they get away for good before the police can stop them," Harry said. Ginny sobbed quietly, grasping a small lace handkerchief and Harry placed her arm around him.

"Well, I suppose we will have to find out who did it then," Luna said. She opened up her notebook— she had always fancied herself a detective— that was what a journalist was, after all, a seeker of the truth. "First, I suppose I will need to look at the crime scene ," she said, tapping her pen on the notepad. 'Crime scene, alibis and then go from there,' she thought.

Submission for @iwsc Luna Lovegood tries her hand at being a detective even though the truth may end up hurting her friends.