Chapter Text
A yawn cracked Monty’s jaw as he shambled into the kitchen for breakfast. The morning light was blinding, and he squinted from behind his glasses. Luna had snuck in and painted all the cabinets yellow, and no one had got around to changing it. It was like walking into the sun.
“Morning, sleepy head.”
Monty flapped a hand at his mum, still not fully awake, then slumped into a chair. There was a hiss, and Monty nearly got his arse clawed off by the cat. She gave him a wounded look, then jumped off his chair.
“Thanks for keeping it warm,” Monty said, reaching down to scratch her ears.
“Did you stay up until midnight?”
“No,” Monty mumbled evasively. He gave his dad a confused, bleary look, which was returned with open skepticism. Monty scowled. “Maybe,” he amended.
His mum reached over to give Monty a hug around the shoulders. “I’m sure he’s just busy,” she said gently.
“Busy with that piece of shit Prewett,” Monty muttered darkly. His brother had been busy since he left Hogwarts.
His dad snorted, then tossed aside the Daily Prophet he was pretending to read. “Don’t let your brother hear you say that.”
“I’d say it to his face,” Monty said through another yawn. He glanced at the paper. There was a huge picture of Dumbledore on the front. Monty grimaced and looked away. He never got on with the headmaster. Dumbledore was always watching Monty, as if waiting for something to happen.
His dad sighed. “You know, Sirius left his family too.”
“Yeah,” Monty said, accepting a plate from his mum, “I’m not saying Percy’s wrong for doing that, I just think he’s a git.”
Percy wasn’t the only one who distanced himself from the Weasleys. Bill and Charlie had both left the country, and Fred and George left after they got their O.W.L.s. Monty didn’t blame Percy, not even for changing his name. It was his choice, and his brother said that Percy was a lot happier. His brother was happier too.
But Monty remembered the look on his brother’s face when it came out Monty’s second year that Percy was seeing Penelope Clearwater. Things might have worked out in the end, but his brother still got hurt in the process.
His mum sighed, then looked out of a window. “He’s usually not late to breakfast.”
“He’s never late to anything,” Monty said. Except today, the first time Monty could remember that his brother hadn’t woken him up at midnight. Now that he was older, Monty usually stayed up to wait. It was tradition.
Monty rubbed his arm, his breakfast growing cold on his plate. It felt wrong to eat without his brother, even if he spent half the time at his dad’s house. Or Percy’s. Monty was used to seeing Harry every day.
Learning that his dad wasn’t his brother’s biological dad was one of Monty’s unhappiest memories. Not that it had been a secret, like his brother was until the threat that Voldemort would attack them had passed. It was actually his brother’s dad who had warned them. Monty thought that was what got his mum to trust him. He was only a toddler at the time, but Monty remembered the fights, and the uneasy truce that lasted until their gran died.
Monty’s mum glanced at his dad. “You don’t think something happened to him?”
His dad laughed. “It’s just one night, Lily. He’s eighteen. I’m sure he’s fine. You can’t baby him forever.”
His mum’s jaw dropped. “I have not babied him!” She turned to glare at Monty. “Are you going to eat?”
Monty picked up a fork and prodded his eggs. They were rubbery. Mutinously, he thought his brother was a better cook.
“Looking forward to this afternoon?” his dad asked, trying to distract them. Monty saw right through it. It was better than Sirius, who would set off a firework. An entire fireworks display for breakfast. Monty smiled to himself. His brother had done that when Monty turned eleven. He got his skateboard and gobstones taken away for the rest of summer holiday.
“Yeah,” Monty said reluctantly. He was looking forward to it, even if not all of his friends got along. He’d had to hex the other Slytherins in his year more than a few times when they insulted Hermione for being muggleborn, or the Weasleys for being poor, or Neville for stuttering, or Luna just for existing, or him and his brother for having the same mum but different dads. Draco and Pansy were the main problem, or had been until his brother became a prefect. Ron was sort of a problem too, since he completely snubbed Monty for ages after he sorted into Slytherin. Monty’s parents didn’t care. Ron got to be in the same house as his older brothers, why couldn’t Monty? And was it really Monty’s fault that Gryffindor never won against Slytherin? Had Ron met Astrid Urquhart?
There was a shout of warning, then a loud thump from the garden. Monty leapt out of his chair and ran to the kitchen window, ignoring his mum shouting at him. He pushed the window open and hung out of it.
Sprawled on the grass, next to a broom and a large black crate, was Harry.
“Is that my Nimbus?” Monty asked.
Harry groaned. Something crashed around inside of the crate. There was a hoot, and a white owl fluttered down to land on the crate. Monty gaped at Hedwig. Whatever Harry was doing, she was clearly part of the conspiracy.
Monty pulled himself through the window, tumbled onto the grass, and ran over to check on his brother.
“Are you alright?” Monty asked, not really caring if Harry borrowed his broom.
“Yeah,” Harry said, sounding annoyed. “The bloody things started thrashing around when I was about to land.” As if to emphasize Harry’s point, something slammed against the side of the crate. Harry pushed himself up with a wince, then grinned at Monty. “Did I miss breakfast?”
Monty gave him a flat look. His parents, who took the long way by going through the back door, ran into the garden.
The crate emitted a horrible shriek. Monty’s eyebrows shot up.
“What the hell is that?” his dad demanded.
Harry laughed awkwardly. “Hey, mum. Hey, other dad.”
“Harry,” his mum said, advancing on his brother. “Did you steal something from the Department of Mysteries?”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, then cracked a smile. “I have done something… unspeakable.”
The creature inside of the crate shrieked again. Hedwig chirped, then gave the crate a vicious peck.
Monty’s dad, Harry’s other dad—stepdad, second dad, alternate dad, dad of the week, Harry had loads of different names for him—took out his wand.
“Are we going to get raided by the Ministry?” their dad asked, looking around. “You’re not supposed to bring your experiments home. When you took this job, your mother, and me, and Severus were very clear—”
“It’s not an experiment,” Harry said, getting to his feet. “It’s an evil pig.”
Their mum sagged in relief, then immediately spun around and frowned at Harry. “You brought a nogtail here? It could curse the garden!”
Monty winced. Their garden was a pretty complex magical ecosystem that their mum and Harry’s dad had spent over a decade cultivating. At least the part that wasn’t a quidditch pitch. Or paved. Or magical woods. That it all fit behind their cottage in Godric’s Hollow was the most impressive part to most people.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Did you look at the crate? I’ve enchanted it against that.” He grinned at Monty. “And the wood can be used to build a nogpen.”
“A nogpen,” their dad said flatly.
“Yeah,” Harry said happily. “Took me all bloody night to chase the things down. I’m not going to fucking release them.” He paused, then slyly added, “I’ll keep them at my dad’s if I have to.”
“Things?” their mum asked. “There’s more than one?”
“I needed one for parts,” Harry said off-handedly.
Monty had read about nogtails, but he had never seen one. They were nearly impossible to catch. No wonder Harry needed to borrow his Nimbus if he was nogtail hunting.
A memory rose up, some passing comment Monty remembered making about whether nogtails could be raised in captivity. There were certain potions that used ingredients harvested from nogtails, but those ingredients were nauseatingly expensive.
Had Harry remembered that?
Monty’s parents started checking over the crate. Harry’s cat jumped out of the kitchen window and trotted over to investigate.
“I tried milking a pig,” Harry said quietly. “It didn’t go well.”
Monty choked on a laugh. “Maybe I’ll start them on cow’s milk,” he said.
“You’ll work something out,” Harry said confidently. He glanced at their parents, then lowered his voice. “If not, we can just let them go.”
“Thanks,” Monty said, feeling overwhelmed. Harry had gone to the trouble of catching multiple nogtails and would just let them go because Monty said so?
“No problem,” Harry said. “It really wasn’t that hard.”
Monty would doubt someone else, but it was his brother saying it. Monty wouldn’t put it past Harry to turn up with an occamy for him.
“I was worried about you since you didn’t show up last night,” Monty said. Maybe they were too old for it, but Monty still got his hopes up.
“Sorry for being late,” Harry said, pulling Monty into a hug. “Happy birthday.”