Dumbledore, his expression returning to its customary gentle amusement, addressed Anduin. "Speak your mind, Mr. Wilson. After your exemplary service today—both tactical and vital—I have no intention of refusing a request from today's young hero."
Anduin winced slightly at the repeated praise. "Thank you, Professor, but that's precisely the issue," he said awkwardly. "I heard Minister Barnold intends to give me a public award. I was hoping you could request that she not mention my name to the media or the public. I genuinely dislike being the center of attention, and acquiring too much fame too quickly wouldn't serve my long-term goals."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with profound understanding. He recognized the ambition and caution of a true Slytherin, one who valued substance over spectacle. "Ah, I understand perfectly," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "A wise wizard knows when discretion is the truest form of power. I will certainly speak with Minister Barnold. I shall ask her to ensure your name is kept entirely out of the Prophet."
He paused, then added, his voice conspiratorial, "However, recognition must be given. Perhaps I could persuade the Minister to convert that public honour into a more substantial, private reward? Something that would benefit your studies greatly?"
Anduin's internal joy surged. This was the ideal outcome: no fame, maximum benefit. "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. That would be greatly appreciated."
A few minutes later, Dumbledore, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew prepared to leave for St. Mungo's. Even in acute pain, Sirius couldn't resist calling out to James. "Prongs! Don't forget, you're the custodian of my precious motorcycle! Don't let anything happen to it while I'm recovering!"
Anduin couldn't help but roll his eyes, a silent commentary on Sirius's priorities. A hole in his lung, and he worries about a broken engine.
The Aurors and Order members soon completed the restoration and obliviations in Godric's Hollow. The Potter house, magically repaired, returned to its warm, albeit quiet, state. The Longbottoms, having bid their heartfelt farewells, departed.
Finally, only the Potters and Anduin remained.
"Anduin, you were brilliant today," James said, smiling genuinely. "I'll take you up to the guest room now. Please get some proper rest."
James's initial reservations about the young wizard—the Slytherin factor, the lack of family connection—were utterly obliterated. Anduin had demonstrated courage, loyalty, and resourcefulness that James deeply admired. He was no longer just Sirius's weird apprentice; he was a friend.
"Thank you, James," Anduin replied, feeling the exhaustion of the long night finally catching up to him.
"Nonsense about thanks," James boomed, throwing an arm over Anduin's shoulder. "You are our friend now, and more than that, a companion and benefactor to our family. You can stay here without worry for as long as you wish. Our doors will always be open to you." Lily, holding a sleeping Harry, confirmed this with a loving smile.
The next morning, James and Anduin made a trip to Sirius's home to collect Anduin's belongings. James was astonished to find the house, which he knew to be a permanent bachelor's den of chaotic clutter, meticulously clean and tidy.
"You mean to tell me you single-handedly sorted and cleaned up Sirius's ancestral pigsty?" James asked, his image of Anduin constantly being revised. "That's honestly more impressive than defeating a Death Eater."
Anduin simply shrugged. "It was necessary for efficiency." Thanks to his perfectly sized, flexibly enchanted bag, he was able to pack all his possessions easily.
They then visited Sirius at St. Mungo's. Despite the serious injuries, Sirius was, predictably, not being a model patient. He was agitated, half-sitting up in bed, and clearly restless, itching to leave the ward, much to the relief of James and Anduin who were glad to see his spirit unbroken. They chatted briefly, and then returned to the Potter home before lunch.
At the midday meal, Lily watched Anduin gently play with little Harry, and smiled. "Anduin, please know that if you need any help at all while you're here, just ask. You were a great help to us."
Anduin felt a moment of shyness. "I am already grateful for all the care you've shown me. There is no need to be so overly kind."
A flicker of understanding, perhaps even guilt, crossed Lily's face. After a moment's thought, she offered a genuine gift. "Tell you what. You seemed very interested in the protective spells and wards I used. While you're staying here, I can teach you as much as I can about charms and defensive magic. You are also welcome to freely explore the Potter family library. I think you'll find quite a few things there to satisfy your curiosity."
Anduin's face lit up instantly. This was better than any gold. "Really? That's wonderful! Professor Flitwick always said you were his most outstanding student, and I have so many questions about intricate spell-craft!"
Lily felt a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. Anduin's intense studiousness, his dark, serious eyes, his thirst for knowledge, and his Muggle-raised background reminded her acutely of her own younger self. But then, looking at his dark hair and his Slytherin status, she felt a painful echo of a different, lost friend from her past.
Just then, Harry's untimely wail interrupted her thoughts, pulling her back to the present, her eyes filling with deep, protective love for her son.
After lunch, once Harry had been rocked back to sleep, Lily led Anduin down to the underground safe house. The space had been thoroughly cleaned, the debris vanished, and the large stone room was now set up as a clear, secure practice classroom.
"You've clearly spent a lot of time on your practical spellwork," Lily commented, settling into a comfortable chair. "Your silent casting of the Levitation and Deflecting Charms was impressive. Feel free to use this space for any spell practice. I'll be your partner. Ask me anything, and if I know the answer, I'll teach you."
Anduin didn't hesitate. He had been pondering a specific frustration from the previous night. "Lately, when practicing certain complicated defensive spells, like the Iron-Clad Charm," he began, "I struggle. Either I can't cast the spell successfully, or the version I produce is weak—not even as strong as a simple, focused Shield Charm. Why is this happening? I'm certain my incantation and wand movement are correct."
Lily stared at him, genuinely impressed. "Wait—you're attempting the Armor Charm? Already?"
She laughed softly, then shook her head. "Anduin, that's not a spell you should expect to master yet. The Armor Charm is a highly advanced piece of protective magic. Even many newly qualified Aurors straight out of the Ministry Academy struggle to cast it proficiently and reliably. Most students don't even attempt it until fifth or sixth year, and many never master it before graduation."
"So the problem is the difficulty?" Anduin asked, surprised. "But the spell itself doesn't seem complicated to me. I've successfully cast more complex charms." He recalled the same issue cropping up with the Continuous Stretching Charm for his bag, and the intricate Fidelius Protective Charm. The mechanics were clear, but the power output was lacking.
Lily realized he was approaching the problem not as a matter of age, but of magical engineering. "Okay," she said, rising from her chair. "Show me. Cast the Armor Charm once, and let me observe exactly where your problem lies."