Harry's life had certainly taken some unexpected turns. He was spending quite a lot of time at the Glen--as much time as he could manage away from his own work, and as much as Avery would let him. He would do right where his brother refused to, and anyway, Harry enjoyed his time at the Glen. He'd always enjoyed doting on his sisters' children, and little Marigold was no different. If nothing else, whenever Harry had to marry and have children of his own, at least enjoy fatherhood.

He was making his way to the Smoke & Scale after a dinner with his niece and her mother, with the intention of taking the Floo to London to work in his lab for a while before heading home. He'd made this journey enough times now to not give much thought to seeing anyone who knew him. He'd been fairly lucky in that respect so far, which is probably why, when he came across Yarwood, he didn't have a ready excuse. "Yarwood," he greeted, fumbling. "I, ah, I've been making potions for the creature healer. I've just come from dropping them off." It was not a lie, but it was a sliver of the truth.

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