It was their first Christmas season in the new country. And even though it was a good month away, Marigold was eager to get on with the festivities. Avery thought it would be enough of a challenge, and now she had Marigold’s uncle to contend with too. Of all the fucking places in the world she had to choose, she ran into one of the last people she expected to see. What was done was done though, and Avery had no choice but to adjust. Thus far, Henry Berkwood seemed to be a decent, if not intelligent person. Whether he could be relied upon was another thing entirely. He’d shown interest in wanting to help Marigold with her education, something Avery would have never dreamed of giving her. In truth, she felt slightly scornful of the man who suddenly waltzed into their lives, but after asking around the Glen, she heard enough about him to determine it wouldn’t be dangerous to let him into their lives. Frankly she wasn’t sure she had much of a choice. The possibilites far outweighed the risks at this point. Ugh.

So it was how she found herself cleaning the house, shifting around the Christmas decorations beginning to accumulate, getting Marigold dressed in her Sunday best, and preparing tea and coffee and biscuits. Having just gotten back from church in the village, Avery sent Marigold to wash up. Just as she was placing the teacups on the table, here was a resounding bark from one of the neighbor’s livestock guardian dogs outside that told her Mr. Berkwood’s arrival was imminent. “Marigold, our guest is here!” She called, casting a quick glance in the mirror to make sure she was relatively presentable. She smoothed a hand down her wool walking skirt just as her daughter came scampering into the room in her floral dress. A glance out the window said her guess was right and she reached to open the door for Mr. Berkwood. “Good afternoon, Mr. Berkwood,” She greeted with a small smile on her face. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

---

This wasn't quite how Harry foresaw his life going. Well, actually, no, "his brother does something incredibly stupid and selfish and Harry is left to pick up the pieces" was quite on brand. It was just that the two halves of his life--the muggle and the magical--rarely, if ever, crossed over like this. If it wasn't so stressful, he might have appreciated the novelty of it. Though, he acknowledged, even if his brother were inclined to do the right thing, he couldn't have come here, to the Glen, and Avery and her daughter couldn't have gone to Aldershot without causing a scene, so the only reasonable thing would have been for Harry to act as a middle man anyway. He wouldn't have objected to that. But that wasn't what was happening here, and Harry wouldn't hold his breath for anything like it ever happening.

So he arrived on the doorstep, feeling both less nervous and more nervous than he had during that initial meeting, and was grateful when the door opened before he started spiraling. "Good afternoon," he said, returning the smile. As he passed the threshold, he turned to the child and bowed like he would to a proper lady. "And to you, Miss Marigold," he greeted. Straightening up, he reached into his inside coat pocket. "I've brought you something," he announced, before pulling out a small round bottle of what looked like, at first glance, water--albeit somewhat cloudy.

Harry had perseverated for some time about what to bring. He hadn't wanted to come empty-handed, and he didn't think it would do him any favors to do something flashy. He wasn't here to upend anyone's life. He was here to help. In the end, he'd settled for something that was well within his wheelhouse.

Crouching down so that he was closer to a four-year-old's level, Harry held up the bottle. It was small enough to easily fit in a child's hands, with a stopper stuck in place with a sticking charm because Harry could not promise it was safe to drink, and it wasn't meant for that purpose, anyway. "See, here. Perfectly ordinary water, yes?" He pulled out his wand. "But with a couple of taps--" He tapped the side of the bottle twice with the tip of his wand, and the cloudiness inside unfurled into a swirl of bright colors, moving and dancing about. "Suddenly rainbows. And if you turn it over--" he flipped the bottle over so that the rounded bottom was pointing up--"you can put them on the ceiling, see?"

He handed the bottle over to Marigold, then straightened up again and turned to Avery. "I brought something for you, too," he said, reaching into his pocket again and pulling out a different vial. "This one's more practical, I'm afraid. I made a prototype, of sorts, for a potion of wound closure, but for creatures." He held out the vial. "My first foray."

---

Avery watched the interaction carefully as Mr. Berkwood greeted her daughter, her eyes trailing carefully on his hand as he reached into his pocket. When she realized he’d brought a gift with her, she resisted the urge to snatch it straight from his hand. He wasn’t a stranger she’d run into on the street anymore. She’d seen the names of his clients on the bottles in his laboratory; used that to her advantage when inquiring around Hogsmeade and The Glen about him. That people had good things to say about his character was enough to put Avery at ease (she’d operated under the premise that she was looking to use him as her own personal potioneer). Still, she watched with eagle eyes as he demonstrated the trinket to Marigold, whose face had lit up at the prospect of a new toy.

The effect was quite beautiful, a fact which her daughter had little trouble pointing out with extreme enthusiasm. She let Marigold take the gift from Mr. Berkwood for now; she’d be examining it later on.

Turning her attention to the gift he’d apparently bought for her, Avery held out her hand automatically to receive the vial, and she analyzed it. Just when she was about to ask if she needed to tap it with her wand too, he explained the purpose and she examined it more closely, intrigued. “You shouldn't have.” She said graciously. “Your first foray, you say?” She tilted the bottle from side to side to test its viscosity. She uncorked it too, giving it a sniff to see how it compared to other potions she used. “Did you test it at all?”

---

"Of course I tested it," Harry said easily. "What sort of professional do you take me for?" He did not mention that testing had involved chasing an injured rat through the alley behind his laboratory because he didn't have another subject to test it on. If it worked, she didn't need to know that. Still, his tone was light, because he was hardly offended by the question.

---

Avery eyed him again, mostly because she wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer she had to the question. Her doubts about Henry didn’t stem from a question of his competence, but something else she couldn’t entirely put her finger on. So instead of responding, she gave a soft laugh before moving to put the potion with her medical kit. She’d do some minor tests on it later to see how compatible it was with a few of her other salves and potions. “Can I getcha any tea then?” She asked, waving her wand so one of the chairs on the table scooted out for him to sit.

“Ma, can I have a biscuit?” Marigold’s voice piped up as she appeared at her elbow.

“Sure precious,” Avery replied, but put her hand atop the girl’s head to hold her back. “Only for you though, don’t give any to Misty ok?”

With an eager nod, Marigold hopped up onto a chair to try and grab the bowl of biscuits. Unfortunately her arms were too short and Avery was too busy with preparing the tea.

---

"Tea would be lovely, thank you," Harry said, taking the offered seat. He leaned over and pushed the bowl of biscuits toward the little girl, saying, "There you are," before taking one for himself. "Who is Misty?" he asked, ostensibly to the room at large, but he was watching Marigold.

---

Frankly tea was a poor excuse for Avery to a good, strong, creamy cup of coffee. Her preferences were severely let down as she’d found out from her next door neighbor early on that tea was the drink of choice around here. “Fair warnin', I’m still workin’ on my technique.” She added before setting down the cups, teapot and straining basket. Meanwhile Marigold had gotten onto the chair and reached for the bowl of biscuits with two of her hands. With a grateful smile to Mr. Berkwood, she grabbed two from the basket and flopped back down on the seat to begin munching on them.

Avery gave a soft laugh at his inevitable question and picked up the corner of her apron to wipe her hands. “Come on, see for yourself,” She looked to her daughter who gasped in delight, clambering down from her seat whilst quickly stuffing the remnants of her biscuits into her mouth. “Slow down child!” Avery chided, casting their visitor an exasperated, apologetic sort of expression while she paused, wand in hand to wait and see if Marigold needed assistance in clearing her airways.

“We have to show Mr. Berkwood Misty!” Marigold chirped through her food, which wasn’t exactly coherent to anyone including her mother (who reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Hopefully Mr. Berkwood wouldn’t think Marigold completely feral by the end of this meeting.)

---

Harry bit back a smile, though he couldn't quite keep the amused expression from his face. He, for one, appreciated children's unadulterated enthusiasm and was probably not a very good person to rely on for encouraging good manners--he certainly knew what to do, of course, and generally acted accordingly. But a disciplinarian of children he definitely was not.

"As much as I'd like to meet this Misty," he said to Marigold, "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself on my account."

---

As appreciative as she was about Mr. Berkwood’s words of caution - she supposed she ought to refer to him as Henry, if this visit was going to incite more visits (though she was extremely hesitant to let Marigold call Henry “Uncle Henry” at all, even as a family friend moniker) - there was precious little to do about Marigold scarfing down her food. It was a normal occurrence that Avery had yet to chase away from her daughter.

And before Avery could respond anyways, Marigold swallowed loudly, chased it down with some tea and hopped off her chair, moving to seize the man by his cuff and lead him down the hallway into the back mudroom. Sipping on her own tea, Avery followed at a leisurely pace. “We have a little one whose mother isn’t able to provide her with milk. So we’re keeping her here until she’s weaned.” She said as the door opened to reveal what looked like a ginormous soot-ball on the floor on top of a large pile of blankets. Two large round eyes stared mournfully back at them: a fluffy black highland calf.

---

"Ah, I see," Harry said peering over Avery's shoulder at the calf. "Quite the undertaking," he commented, mostly because he was, of course, about as far out of his depth as he could get. Farm animals were hardly his forte. "She is rather cute, though."

---

With his astute observation, Avery glanced at him and gave a wry laugh. “Have you ever seen a cow this up close before then?” She asked, as Marigold left to go fetch treats for the babe. The small animal blinked owlishly up at them with long-lashed eyes.

---

Harry laughed, a bit self-deprecatingly. "No, no, I can't say I have." He smiled wryly. "But, as they say, there's a first time for everything." Somehow, his first time being up close to a cow was not the most shocking thing to happen to Harry in recent times, and if that wasn't an indication of how his life was going, he didn't know what was.

---

“I ‘spose so,” Avery mirrored his tone, injecting a bit more humor. She surveyed him for a beat before opening her mouth to say something. But before she could get the words out, a small ball of energy came darting back into the room and shoved almost a handful of crumbly animal treats into Mr. Berkwood’s hand before demanding of him that he feed Misty a couple so that he might bond with her. This earned her yet another reprimand from her mother. “Marigold, what did we say about askin’ people if they wanted to? Don’t go gettin’ Mr. Berkwood’s suit all crumbly, he might have somethin’ important after this.”

---

Harry laughed as treats were shoved into his hands. "It's all right," he said. "I've nowhere to be, and I'm very good at cleaning up messes." He winked at Marigold. "But you ought to listen to your mother, consent is important." He turned and held out the treats to Misty, who seemed happy enough to take them from his hand. If only every woman was as easy to please.

---

It was at this point, watching her daughter with Henry that Avery wondered how often he had interacted with children before. He seemed quite comfortable around the chaos that Marigold seemed to whirl up around him. Whether that was because he was used to chaos himself or he was trying his best for her daughter, Avery didn’t know; she mostly felt appreciation more than anything. Coming to a new country with a five year old had been a challenge Avery had been prepared to face herself. Never in a million years did she figure she’d find the brother of her child’s father in this magical community. And yet she did, and thus far he didn’t seem to be anything like the men she’d previously encountered.

Perhaps her luck was starting to change.

“Listen to Mr. Berkwood, Marigold.” She drawled, leaning against the doorstop. “You’re gonna be seein’ a lot more of him around and you need to listen to ‘im.”

---

Harry didn't look up from his hands, though he was smiling at Avery's words now. A little progress was still progress, and he would take it. "She certainly likes those treats," he said of Misty, dusting off his now empty hands and straightening up. "She reminds me a bit of myself when I get hungry." Harry made a comical face for Marigold's benefit. "Not sure how to feel about that."

---