Visiting the Anomalies of America

Harry Potter x X-Men (Crossover Fanfiction).

After farewelling the last of his friends, Harry decides to take some time off Britain and travel the world - search for a new purpose. He starts off in America and is soon bored. Being known internationally for all its "abnormalities", Harry decides to seek them out, hoping to make some new friends. Immortal Master of Death AU; Slash

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8. Chapter 7

Harry caught William’s gaze as it flicked to each of the other two occupants in the room a little curiously. Harry raised a brow at William in a silent question.

 

                “Well, Mr Potter, I am aware that you have been granted a considerable amount allowance regarding the International Statute of Secrecy as an acknowledgment to your services in Britain. Although, if I may…” William’s expression silently conveyed the question he was trying to ask but couldn’t; are these people aware?

 

                “Oh, well Professor Xavier here is fully mindful of the core details about me; however, I don’t believe that Phil knows,” Harry said, turning a little to glance at Coulson. William’s brows raised as he too turned to Coulson.

 

                “I thought that you were the one that Director Fury had assigned to watch over Mr Potter here?” he asked. Coulson’s eyes widened as he was completely unsure why he had suddenly become the subject of their conversation, but answered nontheless.

 

                “I am,” he nodded in affirmative, “is that a problem?”

 

                “How much exactly about Mr Potter did Director Fury tell you, Agent Coulson?” William said, frowning. Coulson looked between William and Harry, clearly confused with what he had to do with anything.

 

                “Nothing,” he said, too remembering himself wondering why Director Fury had assigned him to watch over an unknown kid. “There wasn’t even a file on him,” he nodded in Harry’s direction. “He just said that I’m to watch over him while he was in the States. And offer assistance with anything necessary.” William had on a huh, who knew? kind of expression, nodding.

 

                “Well then,” he began, “all there is to it is to either have you express your wishes for Agent Coulson to be aware of our… circumstances, or have him excused whilst we conduct our meeting.” Harry’s brows furrowed as he thought about it.

 

                “If I may, what exactly do you intend to ask me, Mr Andrews?” he asked first. Both Xavier and Coulson belatedly realized that the Harry that they had had their first impressions of – young, youthful, cheery; had suddenly been replaced by a much more mature, serious persona. It was quite a drastic change that they both began studying Harry in surprise; wondering if he had had much experience in dealing with people like Mr Andrews often.

 

                “Oh, nothing too intrusive, Mr Potter, not to worry,” William reassured him, “and please, you may call me Will. It’s just standard procedure you see, for our records here in the American Ministry.” Harry’s brows went up – American Ministry of Magic?  well; that completely answered everything he needed to know about who William was. Harry shrugged.

 

                “Well, if it’s just the basics, I don’t see any reason why Agent Coulson should worry. I assume that by your statement earlier, Agent Coulson’s superior is aware?”

 

                “Yes, Director Fury is one of the few SHIELD operatives that have been exposed to our presence. Any other employee that SHIELD believes should be aware first needs to be cleared with the Ministry beforehand,” William explained. Harry nodded thoughtfully.

 

                “I have absolutely no qualms with Phil knowing. Especially if he’s the one assigned to babysit me,” Harry shot Coulson a playful look, “he should probably know what he’s in for. So, as a representative, I believe it’s your call on whether or not you deem him worthy of knowing.” Harry watched William’s shocked expression at being given the authority to make the call. He seemed to still have his rationality with him and thought over it for a moment.

 

                “Well I don’t see why not,” William nodded to Coulson. “Well, let us get on with it then.”

 

                “Ah, please, take a seat,” Xavier cut in, motioning for them all to take one of the chairs or sofas strewn around. Everyone thanks him as they take their places, Coulson and William opposite Harry with Xavier by his side, almost between them. William opened his mouth to get started but was promptly cut off when the Professor raised a hand to halt him. All of them turned to Xavier quizzically.

 

                “It would seem that there is one more to join us,” Xavier shot a knowing glance at Harry. Catching it and immediately realizing what he meant, Harry nodded his assent and Xavier mentally opened the door to reveal Logan. “Come in, Logan.” Xavier beckoned. Logan did so, striding in completely naturally as if it was his own office. William had on a slightly perplexed at yet another addition to his awaiting audience. He turned to face Harry, asking if he was sure he wanted Logan to be present at the time.

 

                “It’s alright,” Harry said, turning to Xavier. “You’ll tell him?” Xavier smiled warmly and nodded. At Logan’s raised brow at such an easy win, Harry shrugged. “We both know the Professor would keep his word to me and only speak about me if I said it was okay. Well, I’m saying it’s okay.” Logan snorted, his lips curling into a smirk as he strode over to Harry’s side and took the empty chair on his other side, plopping down unceremoniously.

 

Shaking his head but saying nothing, William cleared his throat to begin once more. He conjured up some papers and a pen – ah, these Americans clearly moved with progress – an act that didn’t seem to faze anyone in the room; Xavier because he was already ‘in on it’ and the other two because they had both pushed it to being a mutant ability of some sort. William shuffled through his papers in a practiced movement, preparing.

 

                “We at the Ministry have come to understand from the British Ministry that you are currently taking an extended, possibly permanent, leave as of August the 11th, after the passing of a Mrs Ginevra Molly Smith nee Weasley; is that correct?” William began in a clipped, professional tone. Harry’s lips pursed and his chest tightened at the mention of Ginny’s death, but he nodded sharply regardless. “Right. Well then, my purpose for coming here today was to confirm and compile some details about yourself for our own records, you understand,” Will said, watching as Harry nodded his understanding silently. “We have procured the basics of your file from the British Ministry already, so I would first like to go over said file to ensure everything in it is as it should be.” Another nod.

 

Xavier was listening to the exchange rather intently, knowing that whatever this ‘Ministry representative’ fellow had to say would likely cover everything he too had first asked Harry all those night ago – probably in even more detail too. Harry nodded his assent once more and William began; “Harry James Potter, born on th—”

 

                “Black,” Harry cut in immediately. William looked up, confused. “Potter-Black,” Harry repeated for his benefit. William’s eyes glanced down at his paper, scanning the information and his eyes lighting up as they understood what Harry meant.

 

                “My apologies,” he said, penning in the correction. “I wasn’t aware that you had intended to take on the Black name. It is possible for you to still retain your title as Lord Black even without doing so, you know.”

 

                “I know,” Harry said calmly, already used to people back in Britain having protested against him taking on the family name of a famously Dark family. “Not that I’m saying your people here in the States may have something against the Blacks like those back in London did; but my godfather was a Black, and if he cared about me enough to entrust his entire family line to me, the least I can do is honour him.” William was shocked that the deceptively young-looking man in front of him had such deep relations with those he loved and his respect for Harry only grew.

 

                “Of course not; I understand completely,” he said, nodding to the corrections made in the paper in approval. Harry lowered his head and extended a hand, motioning for him to continue. “Now then,” William repeated; “Harry James Potter-Black, born on the 31st of July, 1980 to James Potter; Lord of the house of Potter – pureblood. And Lily Potter nee Evans – muggleborn. Thusly, your blood status being of half-blood.” Harry said nothing and nodded at the accurate information. His eyes glanced to his sides to see that Logan and Coulson had both frozen expressions of shock on the faces whilst Xavier seemed to carry a sort of grim understanding on his own. It was barely even the first sentence and already most of them felt like there was too much to digest at once. First, however, Logan cut in before William could continue.

 

                “Wait, you’re born in nineteen-eighty?” he asked incredulously, although his eyes seem to be much lighter, as if a spark of hope – for what, he didn’t even know himself – had been lit. Harry turned to him casually, as if Logan wasn’t freaking out at that moment, and raised an elegant brow.

 

                “Yes,” he said, as if completely obvious. Logan still had that incredulous look on his face; and so did Coulson, who was also gaping slightly.

 

                “But that would make you –”

 

                “About a hundred and twenty, yes, I know,” Harry was bemused. “Is there a problem with that?” he added just to rile them up a bit. Logan seemed about to answer before he was cut off by someone else.

 

                “Not at all,” the Professor said in an equally calm – but still quite intrigued himself – tone. “Our Logan here is about two-hundred and twenty himself,” he added as an afterthought; a similarity between the two would probably make it easier for them to get along. Harry’s head turned back to stare at Logan, quite surprised himself.

 

                “You are?” he asked lamely, as if not wanting to get his hopes up for nothing. This reaction Logan was used to. He merely grunted in acknowledgement, mumbling an affirmative that lit up Harry’s face.

 

                “Brilliant!” he breathed. “I’ll be expecting some explanation later when all this is over,” he shot Logan a pointed look, grinning. Logan scoffed.

 

                “Right back at ya, bub.” Logan said, a hint of a smile on his own face. Behind them, Xavier too held a fond expression on his face.

 

                “Excuse me,” Coulson’s voice cut into them all. They turned to see the stoic man still sitting pleasantly, a hand held up with such a serious face on that it didn’t look out of place at all. He seemed to be directing his attention to Harry who showed that he was paying attention. “What exactly is all this ‘blood status’ business?” he asked, eyes jumping between Harry and Will. They both looked at each other and by means of a look – and also some status leverage, William sighed; knowing that he would have to be the one to explain it.

 

                “Mr Potter here and I are wizards, Agent Coulson,” he said to start off. Coulson’s brows shot straight up, but at the look he received, kept his mouth shut about any more questions he had on the tip of his tongue. He decided he would have to interrogate Harry later, sending the boy, no, man a look that said as much. Harry seemed to get it and his own shoulders sagged at the thought of having to endure Coulson’s undoubtedly in-depth questioning later.

 

                “There are three categories in which witches and wizards can be categorized into; pureblooded, half-blooded, and muggleborn,” Will continued with his explanation. “Pureblooded wizards are those that have no human blood mixed into their bloodline whatsoever. Half-bloods would be those that have had both magical blood and human blood in their bloodline, no matter when it was. Muggleborns are those who are magical and born of two completely human parents,” he explained as simply as possible.

 

“To put it simply, if a pureblood were to marry anyone other than another pureblood, their descendants would be considered half-bloods. However, a half-blood witch or wizard does not necessarily mean that they have both a pureblooded and a muggleborn parent. Regardless of however much human blood is mixed in, as long as they are descendants of magical parents, they are considered half-blood. This then means that if two muggleborns were to have children, although neither parties’ parents were magical, they themselves are of magical blood and thus their children would be then labeled as half-blood as well.”

 

Harry could almost visibly see Coulson’s head swimming in that information overload that William had just dumped on them. The only one who seemed to be taking it all in in stride was Xavier, who obviously looked like he was keeping up with no problem at all.

 

                “Alright,” Coulson said slowly, trying to make sense of it all. “I think I get it. Anyway, please, carry on.” William nodded and shifted his attention back to Harry.

 

                “Both James and Lily Potter are recorded to have been murdered on the 31st of October 1981 – at their residence; Godric’s Hollow,” William continued to read off the next bit of information.

 

More brows shot up again. Holy shit, Logan thought, what’s with this kid? He was watching Harry who in turned seemed to be listening to William with a blank expression on his face; seemingly almost as if he was bored. But obviously through experience, Logan knew better. Harry was probably cutting himself off from getting too emotionally involved in whatever William said so that he could just get it over with.

 

The only thing that gave away Harry’s impeccable mask was his eyes – a stunning green that shone with the saddest and most negative emotions that no one should have to have built up and mashed together all at once. Eyes that held a sadness for the loss of loved ones. Grief and guilt intertwined together; accusing oneself for unfortunate events out of their control. Weariness for a life spent running. Bitterness at having drawn the short straw in life.

 

                “Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursley nee Evans were your only blood relatives; from your maternal side, along with your cousin Dudley Dursley. This family was with whom you were recorded as being under the care of –” William continued. At that last statement, Harry scoffed quietly at the thought of the Dursley’s ‘caring’ for him. Although he had to admit that at least Aunt Petunia and Dudley had warmed up to him at least a little towards the end. Shaking his heads out of his thoughts for now, he listened to Will babble on. “—until the age of 11, when you began your schooling at Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; spending only the holidays with your relatives, until you were of age at 17. Correct?” Will looked up for confirmation from Harry, which he gave.

 

                “Your registered wand is 11 inches, wood of Holly with a Phoenix feather core, acquired by Garrick Ollivander. Am I to presume that you are still is possession of said wand?” William asked. Harry nodded again. “May I?” Will asked. Harry’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, a habit of wariness that had stuck on him since the war, before reaching into his left sleeve with his right hand and pulling out the wand fluidly. He carefully passed it over to William who inspected it thoroughly; all the while with Harry’s hands tensely close to his mokeskine pouch.

 

Even now, after more than a hundred years, that wand was the only one that ever felt connected to him. He had been to countless wand stores over the ages to try some out but never again did he get the same connection. He figured that a wand stayed with a wizard forever. Therefore, he was glad that he had opted to attempt to fix his broken wand using the Elder Wand after the Battle of Hogwarts. It had worked, obviously, as Hermione had predicted; thanks to the immense power that the Elder Wand was capable of. As he had said to Ron before; although the Elder wand was powerful, he was happier with his own wand. He recalled the moment he had cast a repairing spell on it – watching as his wand resealed, red sparks flying out of its end. He had immediately known, somehow, that he had succeeded. Picking up the wand, his wand, he had felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though the wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion. Truly, there was no other feeling like it – having his wand in hand.

 

Harry, occupied with his own thoughts, didn’t see Xavier’s avid interest at watching the ‘wand’ and Coulson and Logan’s skeptically raised brows at the thin piece of wood. Harry let out a tiny, contented sigh when his fingers wrapped around his wand once more as William handed it back to him with a murmured word of thanks. Eyes at the paper once more, William continued.

 

                “We are aware that you are also in the possession of another wand,” he said. Harry stiffened slightly. It wasn’t a very publicized thing; him being the owners of the Deathly Hallows, but he had still told a precious few. He didn’t think that the British Ministry would have given such details over to the American Ministry so easily. “15 inches, Elder wood, core of a Thestral hair,” William stated. He looked up expectantly at Harry who pursed his lips and reached into his pouch. Silently summoning the wand, he too handed it over. This time watching William very closely, Harry belatedly realized that while William ‘studied’ the wand, he was also sketching a rough picture of it on his papers. He stole a quick glance and saw that there was another of his own wand too. He didn’t say anything and soon the wand was handed back to him, which he deftly placed back into the pouch securely.

 

                “Very well,” William said, apparently satisfied with his inspection. Following on; “It says here that you were crowned the Triwizard Champion for winning the Triwizard Tournament in your… fourth year?” he visibly frowned. Will looked up to address Harry. “Wasn’t that the year that the British Ministry had banned participation from any student under the age of 17?”

 

                “Yes, it was,” Harry scowled. “Professor Dumbledore had cast an age line around the cup to prevent any underage student from putting their name in it.” His gaze flicked up to meet Will’s, who was clearly going to ask why. “Barty Crouch Junior put my name into the cup. He had been posing as the Auror Alastor Moody for most of that year; through use of the Polyjuice Potion,” Harry’s gaze grew distant and cloudy, repressing shudders as he watched the memories of that year pass his eyes once more. “He purposely influenced the tournament to ensure that I would be one to get to the Triwizard Cup first, in the final task. It was a… a portkey to Tom’s father’s cemetery.” He took in William’s slightly confused face at the last bit and elaborated; “Voldemort’s. They needed his father’s bone for the Resurrection of Voldemort.”

 

                “They?” William repeated.

 

                “Peter Pettigrew was there too. He killed Cedric; because I had been the one to convince him to take the cup with me,” Harry blinked his eyes a few times, averting his gaze to the ceiling almost imploringly. He then let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “They only needed me.”

 

                “For the potion,” William clarified. Harry nodded without looking at him. “A Resurrection potion?” William said mostly to himself – there was no such thing, was there? Thinking out of the box, William’s eyes widened; “You mean –” This time Harry’s eyes dropped down to stare straight into Will’s, a shudder trailing up his spine at the look in Harry’s eyes. Harry’s lips curled back in distaste as he mockingly quoted Pettigrew. He didn’t really know why he was doing this. William clearly had an idea what potion he had meant. Maybe he just wanted to drive the point into the man; make it clear just how real the situation had been.

 

                “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son.” Harry’s eyes trailed after an imaginary bone floating through the air. “Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken,” Harry’s left hand harshly pulled back the sleeve covering his right forearm, thrusting it forward, revealing the faded thin scar which was Harry’s reminder of the event. “You will resurrect your foe.” Harry’s eyes darted back up to meet William’s wide ones, staring at Harry’s arm in horror.

 

“Yeah he needed me,” Harry finally continued with an unnecessarily sharp bite in his tone. “Voldemort needed me to make himself a new body. One that could overcome the barrier that my mother’s sacrifice had built up against him – the magic that had killed him.” The bite left his tone as he reached the end of the memory; “but I escaped. Our wands connected in a Priori Incantatem, and my parents were able to distract him long enough for me to get myself and Cedric’s body back to the school.”

 

The air was tense and thick. Logan was staring at Harry, seeing the boy – man – in a completely different light. This kid had just about gone through a life of trouble. Logan was thinking that Harry might even have experienced worse things than he had. And he’d probably gone through countless wars. But this, this was personal. Harry’s own friends and family were a part of this. For Logan, he had been fighting for intangible things like freedom or sometimes even boredom. It didn’t affect him personally, so there was no trouble.

 

Coulson was shocked, eyes glued on Harry’s slouched form. Already he had had an information overload about the boy being a wizard and being over a hundred years old. Now he hears that he had some mad murderer after him? His heart ached for the boy, now understanding why Harry’s eyes always seemed to have been so knowledgeable, having seen and been through so much.

 

Xavier’s own protectiveness had him frowning in his seat, absolutely fuming and intolerant at Harry’s life; no one at that young an age should have had to go through what he had. William cleared his throat a little embarrassedly, nodding once to Harry to signal that he had understood and was going to carry on, albeit a little awkwardly now.

 

                “Well, after the Battle of Hogwarts; you were automatically accepted into the Auror Academy with your clear abilities. You were inducted into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in 1999 at age 19 after completing your NEWTs and further promoted to Head of the Auror Office in 2007, age 27.” William’s tone was impressed, his brows raised slightly as he locked gazes with Harry. Harry, never one good with praise, merely shrugged humbly. Logan gave an appreciative rumbling growl, nudging Harry.

 

                “Government agent, huh?” he said with an upturn of his lips. Harry’s eyes dropped bashfully, laughing softly as well and shrugged again in response, mumbling something – probably denies – under his breath.

 

                “I’m sorry,” Xavier’s warm voice politely cut in, “but what is an Auror exactly?” Harry shot an expectant look at William, face a little smug that he could order the man around so easily. With another overly-dramatic sigh, Will explained.

 

                “Aurors,” he said slowly, “are elite units of highly-trained, specialist officers within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of their respective Ministry of Magic who are trained to investigate crimes and other acts relating to the Dark Arts; including apprehending and detaining Dark wizards and witches.” Both Coulson and Xavier nodded minutely, grasping an idea of what that meant.

 

                “So basically magical police, then?” Coulson summed up a little crudely. Harry snickered at William’s expression of being insulted.

 

                “Absolutely not,” Will said, affronted. “One does not simply become an Auror. A witch or wizard must first be accepted into the Auror Academy after meeting the required NEWT results or being of high recommendation. After that, Auror training is very difficult and intensive. Therefore, there are very few individuals who are actually able to qualify to become a fully-fledged Auror.” Harry was extremely amused at the insulted expression on William’s face all throughout his indignant detailing of the process of becoming an Auror. He didn’t expect, however, to be pulled into the argument himself. “Take Mr Potter, for example,” Will added abruptly; Harry’s head whipping back to stare at him with wide eyes. He definitely didn’t like being used as an example. “He was the first Auror to be inducted into the British Ministry of Magic after seven years.” Coulson’s brows went up, his eyes darting to Harry’s face, which was covered; Harry shaking his head and grumbling unintelligently. Coulson felt a small fatherly feeling of pride blossom in his chest at the young man’s expanse. He promptly held up his hands in a surrender-pose to William and signaled for him to continue. With a prideful sniff, William shuffled his papers.

 

                “We are also aware that you occasionally travel to your previous school, Hogwarts, to deliver Defense Against the Dark Arts lectures on a guest or part-time basis, is that correct?” he asked.

 

                “Yes, that’s right.”

 

                “Defense,” Logan’s deep voice intervened once more. Harry turned, lips quirked a little, knowing what Logan was referring to immediately. “Against the Dark Arts?” He said, brows raised. Harry shrugged it off nonchalantly.

 

                “Still counts,” he noted, to a roll of Logan’s eyes. William ignored the bickering two in favor of soldiering on with his task.

 

                “You are the only known person to have gathered all three of the Deathly Hallows, all of which reside in your possession I assume, and thus have earned the title of Master of Death,” Will read off the end of the page. He looked up to address Harry directly, “now Mr Potter, we at the American Ministry are no strangers to your feats. Many of us hold you in high regards especially considering your personality traits that have been evident in your actions throughout your life.

 

“Thusly, I would have to impress upon you just how much responsibility is expected from you when I tell you that we will not be interfering with your possession of these Hallows, Mr Potter. We hope that from what we’ve seen so far, you won’t turn out to be another Dark lunatic who got drunk on power. If you have any doubts at all, we would like it if you surrender those items to be safe-kept by any one of the world-wide Ministries.”

 

                “I understand,” Harry said, completely serious. “I will keep the Hallows, though. I didn’t want to be Master of Death,” Harry admitted, remembering how bitter and angry he had felt walking right into it without realizing. “But I think it would be better this way. The Hallows have already caused so much chaos and havoc in our world. If I have to spend eternity guarding them from falling into the wrong hands again, then I will.” Everyone’s respect for Harry skyrocketed; his selflessness compelling and admirable. William smiled, a real one conveying the thankfulness of probably the majority of the wizarding community around the world. They were all truly blessed to have such a kind and selfless individual such as Harry Potter in their mess of a society.

 

                “Very well,” William nodded, “then, there is only one last thing left.” Harry nodded, feeling relieved to have this over with. “We are aware that due to your… inability to age,” Will put bluntly, “that you have been named godfather to a number of people.” Harry nodded, one end of his lips twitching in amusement as the list popped up into his mind. “Well, we expect that these individuals may or may not intend to pay a visit to you some day; so to make the immigration processes a little more efficient, I would like to go over with you the compiled list of individuals that are your godchildren.” Harry nodded once more, signaling for him to go on. Will glanced at the sheet before him and suppressed a sigh, instead opting to take a deep breath.

 

                “First, from the Weasley line; Rose and Hugo Weasley, descendants of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermoine Jean Weasley nee Granger. Following; Leonard Stephen Weasley, son of Hugo Weasley and Diana Weasley nee Hayworth. Fred Weasley II, son of George Weasley and Angelina Weasley nee Johnson. Following; Arthur Edgar Weasley, son of Fred Weasley II and Leah Weasley nee Wood.

 

                “Next, Ted Remus Lupin, only son of Remus John Lupin and Nymphadora Lupin nee Tonks. Following; Romulus Corbin Lupin and Maia Junos Lupin, descendants of Ted Remus Lupin and Victoire Lupin nee Weasley. Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, descendants of Rolf Scamander and Luna Lovegood. Albert Jones Longbottom, son of Neville Longbottom and Hannah Longbottom nee Abbott,” William slowly ended. Everyone in the room, save for Harry, had their heads spinning with all the names; especially this ‘Weasley’ fellow. There seemed to be endless numbers of them.

 

“I think…” Will said, squinting down at the paper which he had pulled closer to his face, “that’s all.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, “how sloppy.” At a quizzical raise of Harry’s brow, Will shook his head. “These papers are merely photocopies of ones from your file back in Britain. It seems that there was something scratched in at the bottom but it also seems to be crossed out, and then filled back in again. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be there or –”

 

                “Ah yes,” Harry cut in. Whilst Will had been reading off the barrage of names, he too had been mentally ticking them off his own list. He figured that the last one might be missed out. “That would be Emi,” he pointed out.

 

                “Sorry, come again?” William asked. Extending a finger to point at the dark scribbles on Will’s page, Harry repeated himself.

 

                “The name there. It is supposed to be there. Figures they’d try to write it off,” Harry rolled his eyes. Will’s brows rose, somewhat exasperated at the odd actions the British seem to take. He clicked onto his pen and pressed it to the paper, looking at Harry expectantly. “Emilia Rowena Malfoy, daughter of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and Rose Malfoy nee Weasley,” Harry recited the names perfectly. Penning them in, William nodded.

 

                “Malfoy?” he repeated the name as he read over it once more. “Ah,” he vaguely commented, understanding. Shaking his head, he though to himself; all these people in Britain fret on completely unnecessary things! It’s no wonder their Ministry is so weak and often corrupt. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “that definitely is quite the god-family you have amassed there, Mr Potter.” Harry laughed good-naturedly.

 

                “You’re telling me,” Harry chuckled, “my own friends I understand. Although it seems that their own children have some sort of silent agreement to make me godfather of at least one of their own children too,” he shook his head. William rose from his seat and Harry followed suit immediately.

 

                “Well, that is all I will need from you Mr Potter,” William said, extending a grateful hand, “thank you for your time today. I hope you enjoy your stay here. Don’t hesitate to give us a call if you ever need anything.” Harry thanked him politely, shaking his hand. Just as William had nodded a courteous farewell to Coulson and was about to apparate, he turned to Harry seriously, “thank you again, Mr Potter,” he said, looking Harry straight in the eye. Harry was stunned momentarily, before his brain caught up and supplied him with answers – Will was thanking him for everything that he’d done. Everything.

 

                “Don’t mention it,” Harry truly beamed, earning a sharp and professional nod from William who promptly spun on his heel and disapparated with a soft pop.

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