Morning light spilled through the partially opened curtains of Astoria's bedroom, painting golden stripes across the pristine white sheets that had replaced the stained ones from the night before. Chris sat in a comfortable armchair that Gareth had conjured for him, declining the family's insistence that he return to the guest room for proper rest. He'd dozed fitfully through the night, waking often to check on Astoria, whose sleep had remained peaceful since the violent expulsion of curse fragments. The Greengrass family had maintained their vigil alongside him, Amaranth curled in a chair near the headboard, her hand never far from her daughter's forehead, while Gareth and Daphne had taken turns pacing and sitting, too anxious to truly rest despite Chris's assurances that the worst had passed.
The monitoring charms still hovered above the bed, though their glow had dimmed with the arrival of daylight. Their steady rhythm confirmed what Chris already knew, Astoria's vitals had stabilized, her magical core beginning the slow process of healing now that a significant portion of the curse had been expelled.
"How much longer?" Daphne asked, her voice rough from lack of sleep as she resumed her place beside her sister's bed. The usual perfect composure of her appearance had given way to rumpled clothes and hair pulled back in a simple tie, her pale face bare of any cosmetic charms.
"Soon," Chris replied, checking the position of the sun through the window. "The potion typically induces twelve to fourteen hours of restorative sleep. It's been nearly thirteen."
Gareth stood at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind his back in a posture that spoke of years of contained emotion, of training himself to appear steady when inwardly he might be crumbling. "And when she wakes, she'll truly feel... better?"
"Significantly," Chris confirmed. "Though remember, this is only the first treatment. Two more doses are needed for complete cure."
Amaranth, who had barely spoken since the night before, simply nodded, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face. The aristocratic woman had shed many layers during this vigil, both literally, as she'd removed her formal outer robes, and figuratively, as the carefully maintained social mask had fallen away to reveal the raw devotion of a mother fighting for her child's life.
A small sound from the bed drew their attention instantly. Astoria's fingers twitched against the sheet, followed by a slight furrow of her brow. The monitoring charms pulsed more brightly, indicating a shift from deep sleep toward consciousness.
"Astoria?" Amaranth called softly, leaning forward to brush a strand of strawberry blonde hair from her daughter's forehead.
Eyelids fluttered, revealing glimpses of green before closing again. Astoria's chest rose with a deeper breath than before, and her head turned slightly toward her mother's voice.
"That's it, darling," Amaranth encouraged, her voice trembling. "Come back to us."
Chris watched intently, noting the healthy flush that had returned to Astoria's cheeks overnight, replacing the ghostly pallor that had haunted her for years. Even her hair seemed more vibrant, as if the very life force within her had been strengthened.
With a final flutter, Astoria's eyes opened completely. She blinked against the sunlight, confusion momentarily clouding her gaze as she took in the anxious faces surrounding her bed. For three heartbeats, she simply stared, as if cataloguing each beloved feature. Then awareness dawned, her eyes widening with a realization so profound it seemed to transform her entire face.
"I feel..." she whispered, her voice clear despite hours of silence. She pushed herself up to sitting, looking down at her hands as if they belonged to someone else. "I feel different."
"Different how, sweetheart?" Gareth asked, moving closer to the bedside, tension visible in every line of his body.
Astoria took a deep breath, and the smile that bloomed across her face was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds, brilliant, unexpected, transformative. "Light," she said, wonder filling her voice. "I feel light. Like something heavy was sitting on my chest my whole life, and now it's gone."
She flexed her fingers experimentally, then rolled her shoulders. "The ache in my bones is gone. And my magic..." She closed her eyes briefly, as if looking inward. "My magic feels... bigger somehow. Clearer."
Daphne reached for her sister's hand, her own fingers trembling. "Tori? Are you really...?"
But Astoria wasn't listening anymore. Her gaze had found Chris, sitting quietly in the armchair, observing the family reunion with restrained satisfaction. Something shifted in her expression, recognition, gratitude, and something deeper that transcended her young years.
Before anyone could react, Astoria threw back the covers and launched herself from the bed. Her bare feet barely touched the floor as she crossed the distance to Chris and flung herself into his arms with such force that the chair rocked backward.
"You did it," she sobbed, her arms wound tightly around his neck, her face pressed against his shoulder. "You fixed me. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Chris, momentarily stunned by the intensity of her reaction, gently brought his arms around her shaking form. "You're welcome, Astoria," he said softly, "though there's still more work to be done."
"I don't care," she hiccupped through her tears. "I've never felt this good. Never. Not once in my whole life."
Her sincerity struck him deeply, a reminder of how profound this change must be for someone who had lived her entire life under the shadow of a deadly curse. To feel truly well, even partially, after years of progressive weakness, it was a gift beyond measure.
Suddenly, Astoria seemed to become aware of her position, still in her nightgown, practically sitting in the lap of a boy she'd known only a few months, crying into his shoulder while her entire family watched. A fierce blush spread across her cheeks as she jerked back, nearly tumbling to the floor in her haste.
"I'm sorry," she stammered, smoothing down her nightgown with frantic hands. "That was, I shouldn't have…"
"Astoria Greengrass," her mother interrupted, her voice thick with emotion but tinged with amusement, "you have absolutely nothing to apologise for."
Astoria's embarrassment faded as she turned back to her family. For a moment, she stood between them and Chris, balanced between gratitude and belonging. Then, with a small cry, she ran to her parents and sister.
Four pairs of arms entwined in an embrace so tight it seemed they might never let go. Amaranth and Gareth enfolded both their daughters, Daphne's usual reserve completely abandoned as she clung to her sister, and Astoria at the center, her face lifted toward the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks even as laughter bubbled from her throat.
Chris watched from his chair, a complex emotion filling his chest. Pride in the successful first treatment, certainly. Professional satisfaction at seeing ancient magical knowledge validated. But something else too, a quiet joy tinged with the faintest shadow of old grief. In his first life, he had failed to save those most precious to him. Here, now, he had given this family what his own had been denied: hope, healing, a future together.
As the Greengrasses held each other in their tangled embrace, their tears and laughter mingling in the sunlit room, Chris knew with absolute certainty that every difficult choice, every careful plan that had brought him to this moment had been worthwhile.
...
Chris watched the Greengrass family for a few moments longer, their joy a tangible force in the sunlit room. His presence, he realized, was now an intrusion on what should be a private family celebration. They needed time alone together, to process what had happened and what it meant for their future. With quiet deliberation, he rose from the chair that had been his post through the long night, smoothing the wrinkles from his robes as he prepared to make his exit as unobtrusive as his arrival had been remarkable.
The movement drew Gareth's attention. The man's face, usually composed into the careful mask of a pureblood patriarch, remained open with emotion as he looked over his daughters' heads toward Chris.
"I should take my leave," Chris said softly, inclining his head toward the still-embracing family. "This is a moment for the four of you to share without outside presence."
Amaranth turned, her arms still wrapped around her daughters. "Surely you don't need to rush off. After what you've done for us…"
"Precisely because of what's been accomplished," Chris interrupted gently, "you deserve time as a family. The curse fragments that were expelled will have left emotional echoes as well as physical ones. Astoria needs the healing presence of those closest to her."
Daphne nodded, understanding in her eyes. Unlike her parents, she had seen Chris at school, observed how he balanced helping others with respecting their dignity. "He's right, Mother. Besides, I'm sure Lord Emrys has his own Christmas celebrations waiting."
"At least stay for breakfast," Gareth offered, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"Thank you, but another time," Chris replied. He reached into an inner pocket of his robes and withdrew two crystal vials identical to the one Astoria had emptied the night before. The potions within shimmered with the same silver-blue light, though with a slightly deeper hue than the first.
He placed the vials carefully on the bedside table, then drew a small scroll from another pocket. "The remaining doses, with instructions for their administration."
Astoria disentangled herself from her family and moved to stand before him, her eyes still bright with unshed tears, but her posture steadier than he'd ever seen it. "When do I take the next one?"
"Precisely one week from now, at the same time as yesterday's dose," Chris explained, unrolling the scroll to reveal elegant handwriting detailing the procedure. "The second treatment will be more difficult than the first. The potion will sever the curse completely, rather than just beginning the separation. The physical reaction may be stronger."
Amaranth's hand fluttered to her throat. "Stronger? Last night was already so intense..."
"She'll be prepared this time," Chris assured her. "And knowing what to expect makes it easier to endure. The third dose, taken another week later, will be much gentler. It serves only to heal the damage left by the curse's removal."
Gareth took the scroll, his fingers tracing the runes drawn along its margins. "These are protection symbols," he noted with surprise. "Ancient ones."
"Yes," Chris confirmed. "They ensure the instructions cannot be read by anyone outside the Greengrass bloodline. An additional safeguard, though unlikely to be necessary."
"Always thinking three steps ahead," Daphne remarked with a small smile. "Very Slytherin of you, for a Hufflepuff."
Chris returned her smile. "The hat considered all options."
Astoria stepped forward suddenly, her movement decisive. She stood before him, her chin lifted in a gesture reminiscent of her mother's aristocratic bearing. "I'll see you on the train back to Hogwarts," she said, her voice steady. "And I'll be stronger then. Strong enough to start learning properly."
"Learning?" Chris asked, though he suspected he knew what she meant.
"Everything," she replied simply. "All the magic I've been too weak to attempt. The spells the other first-years take for granted." Her eyes, so like her mother's, held a determination that transcended her eleven years. "I have a lot of catching up to do."
"You'll have time," he assured her. "A lifetime of it, now."
The words hung in the air, their significance not lost on anyone present. A lifetime, something that had seemed so uncertain just days ago.
Gareth stepped forward, offering his hand in the formal manner of wizarding nobility. "Lord Emrys, the House of Greengrass stands forever in your debt. Should you ever require anything within our power to provide, you need only ask."
Chris clasped the offered hand. "There is no debt between friends," he repeated his words from the night before, "but I value the alliance between our houses."
Amaranth approached next, her composure partially restored though her eyes remained bright with emotion. "You must join us again before the holiday ends. A proper dinner, without the... excitement... of last night's events."
"I would be honoured," Chris replied with a small bow.
It was Daphne who walked him to the floo, leaving her parents fussing over Astoria, who had returned to the bed but was sitting up against the pillows, her face still alight with wonder at feeling truly well.
"I'll never forget this," Daphne said quietly as they stepped into the corridor. "Not just what you did for Tori, but how you did it. No grand gestures, no demands for recognition. Just... helping, because you could."
"Sometimes that's enough," Chris replied. "Knowing something is possible and doing nothing is a choice I try to avoid."
Daphne's gaze was searching, as if seeing him properly for the first time. "You're nothing like anyone else at Hogwarts, are you?"
Chris merely smiled, neither confirming nor denying. "I'll see you on the train, Daphne if not before for dinner. Take care of your sister, and yourself."
The journey to the reception room with its Floo connection passed quickly. Final goodbyes were exchanged, promises to correspond about both Astoria's progress and their business venture were made, and then Chris was stepping into emerald flames, whispering "Ambrosia Manor" as he disappeared in a rush of magical fire.
He emerged into the familiar grand entrance hall of his ancestral home, the warm wood panelling and ancient tapestries a welcome sight after the emotional intensity of the past twenty-four hours. Jilly appeared instantly, her amber eyes taking in his exhausted state with a single glance.
"Master has returned," she said, snapping her fingers to summon a house-elf he recognised as Poppy, who specialized in healing and personal care. "Master needs rest and refreshment."
"Just rest, Jilly," Chris replied, suddenly aware of how bone-tired he truly was. The emotional strain of watching Astoria's suffering, combined with watching over her all night, had drained him more thoroughly than he'd realized.
"Master will at least have tea in his chambers," Jilly insisted, already guiding him toward the grand staircase. "Poppy has prepared a restorative blend with honey from the southern hives."
Too weary to argue, Chris allowed himself to be led upstairs to his private quarters. The familiar space welcomed him, the fire already lit, casting warm light across the antique furniture and book-lined walls. He sank into his favourite chair as Poppy appeared with a steaming cup of tea that smelled of herbs and honey.
"Thank you," he said, accepting the cup and taking a grateful sip. The warmth spread through him, easing some of the tension from his shoulders.
"Is the young Miss better now?" Jilly asked, hovering nearby with concern evident in her large eyes.
"Yes," Chris replied, a smile touching his lips despite his exhaustion. "The first treatment worked perfectly. She's on her way to being completely cured."
Jilly nodded, satisfaction evident in her expression. "Master has done a good thing. A very good thing."
"We did," Chris corrected gently. "Your brewing was flawless, Jilly."
The house-elf's ears perked up at the praise, though she quickly resumed her professional demeanour. "Master should sleep now. Christmas dinner will be ready when Master wakes."
Chris nodded, finishing his tea and setting the cup aside. He didn't bother changing into proper nightclothes, simply removing his outer robes and shoes before sinking onto the bed. As Jilly dimmed the lights with a snap of her fingers, he closed his eyes, the image of Astoria's transformed face, bright with health and hope, following him into dreams.