Grimmauld Place hadn't felt this warm, this alive, in years. The oppressive shadows that usually clung to its ancient walls seemed to have receded, replaced by the glow of lamplight and the vibrant energy of its occupants.
The kitchen table groaned under the weight of a hearty, home-cooked meal, steaming with rich aromas. Despite everything—the tense Ministry trial, the lingering echoes of divine power, the political shadows still lurking, Voldemort hiding—Harry found himself sitting at the end of the table, a genuine, easy smile gracing his lips. His anger, which had simmered for so long, had finally begun to cool, leaving behind a quiet sense of belonging.
Ron and Hermione were deep into a half-argument over whether house elves should be forced to work or even forced freedom, their voices a familiar, comforting blend of exasperation and affection.
Fred and George, ever the instigators of chaos, had transfigured a set of stale biscuits into biscuit-fighting beetles, cheering them on like gamblers at a particularly rowdy street brawl, their cackles echoing through the room.
Sirius roared with laughter when one of the beetles exploded into a cloud of cinnamon dust, sending George reeling back with a theatrical cough. The sound was infectious, a joyous counterpoint to the house's usual gloom.
Tonks, seated to Harry's right, leaned closer, her bubblegum-pink hair shifting as she nudged him playfully with her elbow. "So, Mister Stoic," she teased, her voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. "You're actually smiling. I thought I'd have to hit you with a Tickling Jinx to get a reaction."
Harry's grin widened a rare, unburdened expression. He leaned back in his chair, feeling lighter than he had in months. "You still might."
"Oh, is that a challenge, Potter?" Tonks's eyes gleamed with amusement, her hair momentarily shifting to a vibrant fuchsia. "Because I'm rather good at challenges. Especially when they involve getting a rise out of people."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm sure you are. You seem like the type." He studied her for a moment, before his face sifted, genuinely curious, at least he hoped that's what it looked like.
"So, what exactly is a Metamorphmagus? Sirius mentioned it, but he mostly just gloated about how cool his cousin is." He knew but why not ask.
Tonks laughed, a bright, clear sound. "He would, wouldn't he? Well, it means I can change my appearance at will. Hair color, nose shape, anything. Handy for undercover work, less so for deciding what to wear in the morning." She wiggled her eyebrows, and her nose briefly flattened before returning to normal. "It's inborn, can't be taught. Bit of a novelty, really."
"A novelty that can change your nose?" Harry teased, a playful glint in his eye. "Sounds pretty useful to me. Better than having a lightning bolt scar that everyone recognizes."
"True, though yours has a certain… mystique," she countered, leaning a little closer, her voice dropping slightly. "And it certainly doesn't stop you from looking rather dashing when you finally decide to crack a smile." Her eyes lingered on his, a playful challenge in their depths. "So, what other hidden talents are you keeping under wraps, Mister Stoic? Besides charming old house-elves, of course."
Harry's grin softened, a faint blush touching his cheeks. He met her gaze, a spark igniting between them. "Careful, Tonks. You might find out more than you bargained for."
Tonks had been one of his favorite characters back in his past life, and that didn't seem to be changing anytime soon.
She smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Careful, Potter. I happen to know seven ways to charm the buttons off a bloke's shirt without even using my wand."
Hermione, mid-sip of her pumpkin juice, choked dramatically, sputtering and coughing. Ron looked utterly scandalized, his ears turning a furious shade of red. Fred and George howled with delight, nearly falling off their chairs.
Molly Weasley, however, was entirely unimpressed. "Tonks!" she snapped, her voice sharp. "Not at the dinner table! Honestly!"
Tonks just winked at Harry, unrepentant.
Molly then turned her formidable attention to Harry himself, her brow furrowed with maternal concern. "Eat more, dear. You're still far too thin. And with all that drama at the Ministry, you need your strength." She ladled another generous helping of rich stew onto his plate, ignoring his already full bowl.
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "You're going to feed me until I explode, Mrs. Weasley."
"That's the plan," she said firmly, a determined glint in her eye. "A growing boy needs his nourishment, especially after all you've been through."
Remus, watching from his quiet corner, sipped his tea, a soft, contented smile gracing his lips. For once, in this old, haunted house, it felt undeniably like family. A true, messy, loving family.
The mood remained light well into the evening. They played boisterous games of Exploding Snap, and Fred, with a glint in his eye, convinced the table to test a new joke item called "Truth Chews"—chewing gum that, for thirty seconds, compelled the user to shout embarrassing truths.
Sirius, ever the daredevil, took two pieces.
"I once tried to hex my own reflection for being too handsome!" he blurted out, before the room collapsed into uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming down faces.
Eventually, as the night deepened, people began to drift away, drawn by the promise of sleep or other pursuits. Remus headed upstairs with a well-worn book. The twins returned to their room, their whispered plans about new fireworks designs still audible. Hermione and Ginny, giggling, left to help mrs weasley tackle the monumental task of cleaning up the kitchen. Ron mumbled something about a late-night chess game and vanished into the shadows.
Harry stood, stretching his limbs, feeling the lingering warmth of the evening. The house, usually a place of grim duty, now felt less like a cage and more like a home.
"I haven't actually explored this place properly," Harry said casually, mostly to himself, but loud enough for Sirius to hear. "Feels like I've only seen the kitchen and the war room."
Sirius, who had been lingering, perked up immediately, his eyes lighting with a familiar, boyish enthusiasm. "Want the grand tour, then? The illustrious, slightly mad legacy of House Black?"
Harry hesitated only briefly, a flicker of curiosity outweighing any lingering weariness. "Yeah. Sure."
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