Harry didn't say much the first few days at the Rosier estate.
He arrived with one trunk, a scar he still scratched unconsciously, and a wary look every time an enchanted portrait moved. He slept like someone who didn't trust locked doors. Seryna noticed.
She didn't comment.
Instead, she had one of the elves add a second wardrobe to the guest room. Then she sent me an owl with a single line: "He eats like a bird. Fix it."
So I started bringing him snacks. Casual at first. Toast. Jam. A lemon tart. Eventually whole plates of food made their way upstairs.
By the third day, he stopped thanking me out loud. Just nodded and took the plate. That was enough.
…
The first dinner we all had together was five days in.
Seryna didn't summon us. She simply appeared in the dining room one evening and sat at the head of the long table. That was her way of declaring, We're doing this now.
Harry looked nervous when he saw the full spread — glazed meat, roasted vegetables, fresh rolls with garlic butter. He glanced at me like I might have warned him.
"Sit," Seryna said gently. "No one's going to interrogate you. Not right away."
He gave a weak smile and took the seat beside me.
Felix was there too, back from wherever dragons had recently tried to eat him. He wore his usual scorched robes and looked like he hadn't slept since the Ministry collapsed.
Dinner began in silence. Just the sound of forks. A clock ticking faintly in the corner.
Then Seryna asked, "Harry, do you prefer tea or coffee?"
He blinked. "Uh. Tea. Mostly."
She nodded. "Milk and sugar?"
"Just milk."
She seemed satisfied. "Good. Coffee stains the teeth."
Harry tried to nod again, but Felix jumped in.
"Do you remember anything about your parents?" he asked, voice low and surprisingly kind.
Harry looked caught off guard. "Bits. Not much. Just... warmth, I guess."
Felix nodded slowly. "That counts."
Seryna cut into her meat. "Your relatives. The ones you lived with. Were they kind to you?"
"No," Harry said without thinking. Then looked embarrassed. "I mean. They weren't... great."
"They were cowards," she replied without emotion. "I'm glad you're not there."
Harry didn't speak for a bit after that. Just pushed his food around, then slowly began to eat it.
Felix tried to lighten the mood.
"Do you know how many dragons I've seen bite their own tail trying to catch a sneeze?"
I rolled my eyes. Harry smiled for the first time all day.
…
Later that night, I knocked on Harry's door.
"Got a minute?" I asked.
He was in his pajamas. Flannel, too big. Probably borrowed from Felix. He nodded and followed me down the hall.
I led him past the stairwell, past the dark portrait of Grandmother Rosier that we both avoided, and down a narrow hallway with no lights. I stopped in front of a faded green cabinet with brass handles.
"This is the Vanishing Cabinet," I said.
He looked at it like it might explode.
"You ever seen one?"
He shook his head.
"This one works," I said. "Took years for Mother to fix. The other half is hidden. We don't use it unless we need to vanish fast."
Harry ran a hand over the wood. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I trust you," I said simply. "And because if something ever happens, I want you to have options."
He looked at me for a long time, then nodded once.
"I won't tell anyone."
"I know."
We stood there for a while. Nothing dramatic. Just two boys in front of an old cabinet that once led to escape and now meant something quieter. Something like safety.
…
Training that summer was light. Not because I didn't want to push him, but because he needed time to feel normal.
We played music most mornings. I taught him basic rhythm spells. Tracey sent us charmed drums she found in Knockturn Alley. They screamed when you hit them too hard. Harry laughed the first time one shouted "TRY AGAIN."
Felix gave us sparring tips through enchanted parchment.
"Always aim low," one note read. "Everyone protects the face. No one guards their knees."
Another said, "If your wand fails, use your opponent's weight against them. Especially if they're overconfident. Or named Draco."
Harry got good with basic dueling forms. Nothing flashy. Just clean, quiet stances. He moved like someone who used to flinch when things got thrown near him and now didn't.
Sometimes we practiced spells in the Rosier garden. Seryna watched from her window. She didn't speak, but she took note of every cast. Every hesitation. Every mistake.
Once, after dinner, she handed Harry a note.
"Your counter-charms are sloppy. Work on it."
He blinked. "Yes, ma'am."
She gave him a faint smile. "I'm not your professor. Just a concerned citizen."
…
One afternoon, I found Harry alone in the music room. He was holding a guitar I'd enchanted to hum when touched.
"Trying to write something?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Just messing around."
"Sounds like the start of something."
He looked up. "Why are you helping me?"
I paused. "Because I remember what it felt like to have no one in your corner."
He didn't say anything to that. Just looked down and strummed once. It made a low, vibrating sound that filled the room like a breath held too long.
…
Our summer didn't end with anything dramatic.
No final duel. No secret prophecy. Just quiet moments.
Books stacked beside couches. A wand left on a windowsill. Harry laughing when Felix burned his own sleeve trying to demonstrate a protective barrier. Tracey's owl bringing us sugar quills and nonsense riddles. Daphne visiting once and rolling her eyes at everything, only to secretly leave behind a stack of annotated spellbooks with notes in the margins.
The Rosier estate never felt like home to me. Too polished. Too cold.
But when Harry left for the train in late August, he looked back once.
Then he smiled.
And I thought maybe it was starting to become something better.