Unities

-part 2
-renaissance

She was a beautiful baby. A bit heavier than my sister Caryn had been, but beautiful all the same.

We named her Glory, because her birth had been the one glorious moment in this time of mourning, remembrance, and suffering.

Nathalie and her sister visited me one day. Nathalie announced, while Valerie translated, that her children needed someone to raise them. Someone who could speak to them, who could comfort them if they needed it. “Mama and Papa are growing old,” she said. “Valerie is busy traveling.” Valerie had become a wand maker, developing wands for those with disabilities, and often traveled to gather materials. “And Charlot’s often busy working, Hermione, and he has a dangerous job.”

“But Nathalie, I can’t!” I protested. “They’re your children!”

“And Harry’s. Hermione, even now I’ve realized that raising them will bring too many memories. And hardships. Hermione, please think about it.”

And they got up and left.

*

Glory’s such a beautiful child. At age four, she’s grown remarkably. Her eyes are soft and brown, and her hair is brown with red highlights.

And she’s grown up with three siblings.

Becca, Laura, and Aaron are sweet children as well. They all have their father’s black hair, though their own have been considerably neater. And all of them have green eyes. But Aaron, the one who looks the most remarkably like his father, is the only one to show no magical ability. And that was a surprise to us all.

Nathalie, when she visited one morning, was surprised as well. “I can’t believe it!” her sister had translated. “Aaron has no abilities?” And it appeared to be so. “But I didn’t show any, either,” she thought again. “And I’ve become rather good with magic, haven’t I?”

“Of course, Aunt Nathalie,” Becca and Laura came to hug her. They still didn’t know that Nathalie was their mother. When they’re older, I often told myself. Yet the years were zooming passed, and I had no notion to revealing the secret anytime soon.

*

When I became pregnant with a second child, Ron decided that we needed to move. The four children had been sharing a magically enlarged bedroom, but more space was needed for our ‘rapidly growing family,’ as he called it.

So we moved from the small house to a much larger one thirty miles away. And after the change, we realized just how far from our friends and family we had moved. It seemed that the children were being separated from everything they had known. But we let it be.

The child was born on Christmas day. The children were all at my mother-in-law’s house, where they could be under constant attention for as long as it required. And we had another daughter, a small girl named Noelle.

When Noelle was born, the others were seven, with the exception of my Glory, who was still six, but not for much longer. We gave her the freshly furnished bedroom adjacent to the master one, and settled her in, and hoped for the best.

But odd things seemed to occur from then on. The children, who were sent to a local Muggle primary school, seemed to pick fights with other children. Namely Aaron. One day, when I was picking my children up after Aaron had gotten into trouble for another of his infamous battles, I met an older woman, with a small boy who must have been her grandson. The woman, it seemed, had arrived to pick up her grandson, who had been involved in a fight as well. I hesitantly introduced myself, Hermione Granger-Weasley, and she did the same. Petunia Dursley. I had to stifle a laugh. Was this Harry’s aunt of whom I had heard so much about?

I soon found out, when Petunia saw Aaron and put a look of disgust on her face. Aaron did look very much like his father. And right before I left, Mrs. Dursley asked, “Is this boy related to Harry Potter?”

I nodded numbly, and allowed the children play on the playground with their friends. “He is. His son, in fact.”

And Petunia then added, “I am Harry’s aunt.”

“Yes. I realized that.”

“Are you his wife?”

“No,” I answered, then gathered my children and left.

*

The next odd thing that occurred was that Aaron and Rupert, the son of the late Dudley Dursley, had become great friends. So I found myself walking over to Privet Drive often, which had strangely been only two blocks from our own street. And I became more greatly acquainted with Mrs. Dursley.

It seemed that Dudley had died right before his wife realized she was pregnant. And she would have raised the son herself, if she had lived after childbirth. So, Rupert had come to live with his grandparents.

And his grandparents didn’t make the same mistake twice. Rupert was loved, but not spoiled. He was well fed, but not too much. In all, he was a very lovable child. And Mrs. Dursley and I became friends.

She never again asked me why I had adopted Aaron. And it was a secret only Ron, Nathalie, Nathalie’s family, and I shared.

Until the Hogwarts letters arrived.