Author's Note and Acknowledgement

This the third segment of Wheels Within Wheels, the story of Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass, their life, times, families, careers and adventures. Parts One and Two precede Part Three, Iolanthe, chronologically, and contain lots of useful information for readers of Part Three, but I suppose you can start here if you're determined.

The author makes no claim to anything in this story. It all belongs to JK Rowling, genius-creator of Harry Potter, the Potterverse, and all who sail therein. Thank-you Ms. Rowling! We are eternally grateful.

Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three

Iolanthe

Chapter One

Daphne's News

Harry Potter found himself in a state of wonderment throughout the spring after Daphne Greengrass accepted his proposal of marriage. Life with Daphne seemed to get more delightful with each passing week. Harry couldn't believe his luck. After failing, miserably, and publicly, at love for so long, Harry stumbled into a relationship with a beautiful witch, a healer with an intimidating resume', who was wise in all the areas where Harry was ignorant, and had shown herself brave and skilled enough to stand up in the face of the danger that always seemed to find him.

Daphne's engagement ring, a large emerald encircled by diamonds in a platinum setting, was a prime topic of conversation among their set of younger witches and wizards. It was beautiful enough to merit comment, just for how it looked on her hand, but Daphne's ring had an air of enchantment about it, for those who were sensitive to such things.

Harry and Daphne were aware the goblins who had crafted the ring had put some extras into it. The goblins had included a charm that would cause the ring to return to Daphne if it were to be taken without permission. Harry had also noticed, when he put the ring on Daphne's finger, it appeared to adjust itself for a perfect fit, no easy trick to accomplish with platinum. He wondered what else would emerge, since his relations with goblins always seemed to have an embedded element of surprise somewhere.

They had skipped throwing an engagement party, partly because they had just hosted one at #12 Grimmauld Place in December, and did not want to go through the planning for a second so soon. Instead, Fabio and Kendra Greengrass had sent a note to the society editor of the Daily Prophet, resulting in a short story on an inside page. The gossip about the ring was, in effect, their announcement.

Daphne and Harry had been working together to restore and improve a property Harry had inherited, that went by the name of The Mill. With some help from Winky the house elf, they had taken an abandoned building and made it into a getaway cottage. They had set out to keep the place simple and uncluttered, as a retreat from their complicated city lives. Harry had mostly watched as Daphne had transformed the London townhouse, #12 Grimmauld Place, demonstrating her sure sense of color and design. He pitched in more and more as they worked on The Mill, mostly doing the assignments Daphne handed off to him, at the same time becoming more confident in the suggestions he proposed.

When Daphne and Harry began work, The Mill had been neglected for many years. The structure, though, was sound. A thorough cleaning, some repair and replacement of the roof tiles, and the addition of bathrooms brought The Mill into the current century, and made it a habitation, albeit spare. Basic furniture shopping gave them something more to work on, as well as some interesting weekend field trips to flea markets and second-hand stores, both magical and muggle-operated, looking for tables, chairs and bedroom furnishings that would fit the setting and preserve the feel of a country retreat.

Harry and Daphne had taken Daphne's parents, sister, and her sister's fiancé, Draco Malfoy, picnicking at The Mill on the first nice weekend in March. They had introduced Astoria, Daphne's sister, to the fairies that inhabited the site of The Mill. The fairies had shown their appreciation for Astoria by circling her head in numbers sufficient to form a crown of tiny lights. Harry suggested offering The Mill for a honeymoon destination, at least for a few days, to give the newlyweds a chance to decompress.

The date for the wedding was fixed in April. The venue was to be the gardens of Greengrass Manor, on the tenth of June. Astoria wanted to be married outdoors, with only the summer sky above and the flowers and shrubs of Fabio's gardens for décor, so the ceremony was to begin at ten, in hopes the sun would not be too brutal. Fabio and Kendra were each in their element, Fabio tending his beds with a crew of garden elves every day after he had finished his work in the family enterprises, and Kendra compiling lists of invitees from several continents, drafting food and beverage orders, and chasing after Astoria for answers to questions rooted in the arcana of wizarding weddings.

Daphne had adopted Wednesday afternoons as a mid-week work break from her earliest days in practice. She had formerly closeted herself in a semi-private office at St. Mungo's Hospital and used the time to catch up with her patient records as well as the usual flood of administrative work that accompanies health care.

She had begun in December to come to #12 Grimmauld Place each Wednesday afternoon, and to use her study for some very quiet and productive hours. She had the assistance of Kreacher, the house elf of #12. Kreacher had become the avatar of the efficient, attentive, discreet, in short, the ideal house elf. He was an excellent chef, and could make a better pot of black tea than anyone, or any elf, Daphne knew.

Harry liked keeping busy. That was fortunate during the spring, as activity surrounding Astoria and Draco's wedding increased. Harry and Daphne reconciled their calendars regularly, just to make sure neither was making commitments at cross-purposes to the other, or missing appointments. Following Kendra's advice, Daphne had blocked out July 7 and 17 on both her and Harry's magical planners, although Kendra hadn't been able to tell her for what she was saving them.

Harry tried to keep his own Wednesday afternoons uncluttered, especially after three p.m. He habitually worked long hours, and went to the office on Saturdays, sometimes Sundays as well. With Daphne taking her Wednesday afternoons at #12, Harry had quickly become accustomed to coming home a bit early, getting the kinks out with a little workout in his home martial arts dojo, taking a shower, then taking Daphne out to eat, usually at Morgan le Fay's or the Leaky Cauldron.

Daphne and Harry took a daytrip to Hogwarts during the third week in April. Daphne seemed a little less lively than usual. Harry watched her closely, as much as he was able. They had individual schedules, Harry's oriented toward Professor Millicent Bulstrode's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Daphne's toward consultations with her medical colleague, Madame Pomfrey, the librarian, Madame Pince, and Headmistress McGonagall.

Harry and Daphne met up again for lunch at the Great Hall. Harry and Millicent had just come back from the quidditch pitch, where Harry had been running drills for sixth and seventh years who had shown interest in careers as aurors. Both had towels around their necks and were still dabbing at sweaty faces when they got to the entrance hall, where Daphne and Harry had agreed to meet.

"Daphne!" Millicent called out.

"Professor!" Daphne responded. "How did he do?"

"Brilliant, but you knew that," Millicent said. "Are we ready?"

"Sure," said Harry.

The little group entered the Great Hall and walked up the center aisle toward the dais and the staff table. One of the Gryffindor students spotted them first, and stood up, followed by another, and almost as one, the remainder of the Gryffindors. No one said 'Harry Potter,' but the eyes of the entire Gryffindor student body showed the house was keenly aware their most famous (living) alumnus was among them.

One-half of the Slytherin table was facing the spectacle, and, not to be outdone, stood, causing the other side of the table to stand up as well. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws seemed confused, and some students at each table stood, some stood and sat back down, and others looked toward the staff table for guidance.

Once the Gryffindors noticed the Slytherins were standing, presumably for their already-distinguished alumna, Healer Daphne Greengrass, MD, PhD, they felt it was time to raise the ante, and burst into applause. The Slytherins answered in kind. Everyone enjoys a standing ovation, it seems, and the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs finally surrendered to the moment, stood, and began to applaud, just to be polite.

Harry knew the only way to keep lunch on schedule was to keep moving, so he strode to the front with purpose and waited while Millicent and Daphne climbed the steps to the dais.

"Be right back," he said, as Millicent went past.

He walked to the front-center of the dais and raised his hand. The clamor died almost instantly.

"Thank-you," he said. "Healer Greengrass and I are honored to be here, and to be greeted in such fashion. Now, we will be here a little longer, and if you see us out and about, we would love to meet you individually, so feel free to introduce yourselves, but for now, I strongly suggest we all turn our attention to lunch, or your distinguished faculty will start deducting house points out of sheer hunger."

The Head Auror's lame jokes are always funny, before any audience, and the Gryffindors took the opportunity to clap, whistle and laugh louder than anyone else, but they quickly ran out of steam and took their seats.

Millicent escorted them down the row of faculty and staff, making introductions when they encountered someone who had come since Harry and Daphne had left. Three seats were left at the end, where Millicent would sit between them. Harry got Daphne seated. Harry was just pulling his chair up to his place at the table when he heard Millicent.

"What's that you're wearing, Daphne?" asked Millicent.

"What?" replied Daphne, feigning a look around at her emerald green linen skirt and emerald green linen jacket, before noticing she had an emerald ring on the third finger of her left hand, that probably hadn't been there the last time she'd seen Millicent.

"Oh! You mean this," she said, dropping her hand at the wrist to give Millicent an unobstructed view. "His Nibs got to feeling a little romantic, and he commissioned this and presented it to me to mark the occasion of our engagement. It's one of a kind, like him."

Harry tried not to look at the two of them, Millicent hugging Daphne and making appreciative comments and Daphne responding with appreciations of Millicent's appreciations. Eventually, the ring-talk was exhausted, and Millicent turned to Harry.

"When?" she said. "And I don't want to hear 'next year sometime.'"

"Don't know," Harry said. "Draco and Astoria are absorbing all of the Greengrass planning capacity. They're on for the tenth of June. As soon as we get them taken care of, I guess. I'm good to go. July, how's that?"

Harry had pulled July out of the air, a placeholder for Millicent's question. He looked past Millicent toward Daphne, who looked stunned, just momentarily, before giving him a little smile. Millicent turned back to Daphne.

"Well?" she asked.

"Could be possible, just," Daphne said. "Like Harry said, though, we can't do both things at once."

Harry enjoyed lunch. He had enjoyed the approximately four hours he had spent with Millicent and her classes in the morning, but that was a professional engagement. Lunch was another matter. Millicent Bulstrode was a formidable fighter and an extrovert, and a natural raconteur. She kept Daphne and Harry laughing throughout lunch with a steady sotto voce commentary on Hogwarts gossip, Hogwarts eccentrics, and her girlfriend's large, loving, and fractious family, the Weasleys.

Harry was thoroughly familiar with the Weasleys, and had his own perspectives on individual Weasley personalities. He found Millicent's observations both accurate and very, very droll.

Following lunch, Harry and Daphne followed the Headmistress to her office for tea and lemon squares. Harry thought Daphne seemed diffident about the food, but she never was big on either quantities, or dessert, so he wrote it off to fatigue and a wish to finish up the visit and get back to London.

"Well, first of all, congratulations, Harry, and best wishes for many, many happy years together Daphne," said Professor McGonagall, observing the old custom of refraining from congratulating the prospective bride. "I hope we can keep seeing you both here, often. Millicent said her seventh-years were ready to revolt if they didn't get their customary Field Day.

"Thank-you for stopping to see Poppy, Daphne. It means so much to her when you visit. Some of our other healer alumni haven't been back since they left Hogwarts, not that there is any requirement that they do so, but Poppy does like to offer a seat and engage in a little professional chit chat. Was it chit chat today, or…?"

The Headmistress left the question hanging. There were, after all, ethical questions of patient confidentiality, so she couldn't ask outright. As Chief of Service for Mental Maladies at St. Mungo's, Daphne was the designated Hogwarts consultant for anything in her field of specialization that exceeded Madame Pomfrey's qualifications.

"Oh, there were a couple of little things we touched on, just general topics," Daphne said. "Do you have any specific concerns?"

"Not unless there is something you think you and Poppy need to bring to my attention," said Professor McGonagall.

"Not today," Daphne said.

"That's fine," Professor McGonagall, "I'll put myself in your capable hands. Now, what else do two big city sophisticates such as yourselves have for an old country school teacher? I used to be able to count on Percy Weasley to give me an update, once or twice a year, on the latest ministry foolishness, but Audrey appears to have taught him the joys of keeping his cards close to his vest."

"Blaise Zabini, from our year, and Oliver Wood organized a club for magicals in London, did you know about that?" Daphne asked.

"Really?" said Professor McGonagall.

"Yes indeed," Harry said. "It's in a high-rise near the Thames, with incredible views. Daphne looked down and spotted a dragon flying right over London one night when we were there. Anytime you want to come down we'll be happy to take you.

"Neville and Hannah have really made something special out of the Leaky Cauldron. The food is better than ever, and the main room is full from around eleven until seven or eight at night. My godson, Teddy Lupin, Remus and Tonk's son, will be starting here in the fall. Draco and Astoria are cute together…" Harry ran out of news items.

"All good stuff," Professor McGonagall said, sneaking a look at her wristwatch. "I need to pack up. Unless, Daphne, you'd like to come be a special resource for my NEWT transfiguration class."

"Oh, not today, but let's think about it some other time!" Daphne said.

Harry stood up.

"We'll be back, Professor," Harry said.

"Take care," said the professor.

Harry went down the spiral stairs first, holding his right hand up over his shoulder to give Daphne something to steady herself. He had come close to tumbling on the tricky stairs numerous times as a young, nimble student. He resolved to ask Professor McGonagall on a future visit if something couldn't be done to install a handrail (doubtful) or cast a no-tumbling-down-the-stairs charm (surely someoneon the staff could do one).

"Just a quick stop here, please," Daphne said as they passed one of the girls' restrooms.

Harry waited outside, shaking hands and passing on regards, if he knew the parents of the student whose hand he was shaking.

Daphne emerged, smiling.

"Ready?" she asked.

But Daphne was almost as well-known as Harry, especially among the female students, and was a recognized heroine to those who wanted to follow her in qualifying as a healer. She soon had a circle of confident young women around her, stretching out hands, gripping firmly, and looking her straight in the eye, saying things like, "Very pleased to meet you, Healer Greengrass," and "Rebecca, also of Slytherin House, pleasure, Healer Greengrass."

The students only thinned out as class start time approached.

"Anyone else you need to see before we go?" Harry asked.

"Not me," Daphne said. "Did you have anyone?"

"I didn't get to Madame Pomfrey, but you did, so I can probably make up with her by owl," Harry said. "I'd say we're done, unless you fancy a little butterbeer and hand-holding at the Three Broomsticks."

"No butterbeer, I've got an indigestion issue today," Daphne said.

"Home it is, then," Harry said. "Glass of mineral water, feet up, perhaps a foot rub…"

"Oh, yes, that's highly therapeutic," Daphne said, setting a new record for dryness in commentary.

Although she had carefully avoided advertising the fact that she could be found at home at #12 Grimmauld Place each Wednesday afternoon, word did circulate. Most Wednesdays saw two or three witches, sometimes more, both alone and in company, stopping by, usually dropping a card in the silver tray near the front door, and joining Daphne in her study for some tea and conversation.

Thus, Harry was not surprised to see witches in the front hall when he entered #12 the next Wednesday afternoon. What surprised him was the fact that the witches were Millicent Bulstrode and Ginny Weasley. Daphne was right behind, walking them to the front door, smiling her best, most dazzling Daphne smile.

"Harry!" said Ginny and Millicent at once. They grabbed him in turn, hugging and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Ginny was last. She stepped back and shook her index finger in front of Harry's face.

"Sunday," she said. "The Burrow. Noon. Bring Teddy. Don't miss it. Daphne has the details."

With that, Millicent and Ginny stepped out onto the landing and disapparated with two 'POPS.'

"They both seemed so much more, responsible, somehow," said Harry.

Daphne laughed, the first time Harry remembered her laughing in weeks.

"They're a bit giddy at the moment," Daphne said. "Want some tea? Kreacher, another pot of tea for the study please, and another cup."

Kreacher had a pot in the study before Harry and Daphne had sat down.

"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said, and the elf walked out of Daphne's study, closing the door behind him.

"You're feeling better," Harry said.

"I haven't been feeling bad," said Daphne. "It's normal. Don't you want to know what that was all about?"

"As in, 'Daphne has the details?'" Harry speculated. "Of course."

"Millicent and Ginny are officially a couple," Daphne said.

"I thought they were a couple ever since the St. Mungo's Ball," Harry replied. He picked up the teapot and poured a cup. "Where's yours?"

"None for me, please, and I advise you to listen," Daphne said. "Ginny and Millicent are officially a couple, as opposed to dating. As told to me, they went for a run together, and were running along talking, and Millicent broached the idea of sharing a flat, and Ginny said she wouldn't unless Millicent thought they had a real future together. Millicent mulled it over, and they got back to the residential hotel where Ginny has been keeping a little studio, and Millicent asked."

"Asked?" said Harry.

"Asked! Harry! Millicent asked Ginny to marry her. Apparently, she said, and this is a quote: 'Ginny, I love you, this has gone on long enough. I want you to be my wife. Marry me.' They're getting married!

"Now, there's more. You know Ginny, you'll appreciate this. Ginny told Millicent they needed to clarify something, then Ginny took both of Millicent's hands and asked Millicent to be herwife, just so there wouldn't be any misunderstandings.

"Ginny had already decided to retire from quidditch at the end of this season. Only the GM knows, and now you and me. Ginny asked me to swear you to secrecy because she is trying to avoid a long, drawn-out series of farewells and ceremonies as the season winds down. She had a very good year, not her highest-scoring season, but her overall game is as good as ever, and she wants to go out on top. She's got a standing offer from the Daily Prophet to cover quidditch for the sports page."

Harry mulled what Daphne had just told him.

"Logical enough," Harry said. "Ginny wouldn't mind being a wife as long as she had one of her own. Is that the reason for Sunday? A little family engagement party?"

"No," Daphne said. "Not quite. Ginny said Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are going to be informed at dinner on Sunday. She is not sure everyone will be happy. I guess there's an Aunt Muriel, who expresses opinions?"

"Oh, yes, there certainly is," Harry nodded.

"Ginny said, and I was really touched by this, Harry, that we are their first supporters, and they know they can count on us," said Daphne, "And they know everything will be fine if we are there with them."

Harry sat still, then took a drink from his tea cup.

"Then, I guess we'd better plan on going. I'm surprised we haven't been to the Burrow already, but it seemed like we always had a conflict, or were doing something at The Mill. I'll have to owl Andromeda to make sure Teddy's available," Harry said. "This has really cheered you up, hasn't it? You haven't stopped smiling since I got here. I'm very happy you're feeling better."

"Well, yes, among other things," Daphne said. "I didn't have the nausea this morning, so I hope I'm over that."

"What did you decide it was? Something magical?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it is magical. It's old, very old, goes back to the beginning of humanity, back before that, really. Normally, the condition has to gestate for awhile before it can be diagnosed. It's now been confirmed. I didn't want to say anything about it until I knew for sure," said Daphne.

"Am I being really thick about something?" Harry asked, genuinely puzzled by Daphne's medical jargon.

"Yes, you are, and you're obtuse and how you solve crimes is utterly beyond me, so here it is: You're going to be a father, Harry. I'm pregnant. I think since that evening we finished setting up the bedroom at The Mill and then went ahead and spent the night there. The timing would have been just right for where I am now."

"Oh, Daphne, that's…great! Congratulations! Oh, that's wrong, isn't it? They're sure? Whoo! That is…How are you? How do you feel? Can I get you anything? What will you do about work?" Harry thought all of his questions were original. After all, he hadn't had occasion to ask them before.

Daphne started to laugh, a real, heartfelt, genuine laugh, the Daphne laugh that lit up Harry's heart like sunshine.

"We get to all of that, in time. This is just the beginning. I don't even have a baby bump yet. Are you happy you're going to have a little Potter running around?" Daphne asked.

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "Now we have to get serious about wedding plans, don't we? Glad I had the foresight to ask you to marry me. Do we have any free days in July?"

Harry's observation brought more laughter from Daphne.

"As it happens, we do! The seventh and seventeenth, remember? Mother and her runes," said Daphne.

"Who else knows?" Harry asked.

"No one, you're the first person I've told," Daphne said. "Well, there's my colleague who saw me this morning, but she's obliged to keep it all to herself. In effect, no one in the whole world knows, but you and me."

"Do you want to take the floo to the manor?" Harry suggested. "If that is permitted. Gosh, I don't even know if pregnant witches can take the floo, or apparate. Where do you go to find this stuff out?"

"Oh, you could do a number of things, ask a healer, for instance…" Daphne speculated.

"Yes. All right. Dr. Greengrass, would you like to visit your parents at their home, and give them the good news, if that is allowed?" said a chastened Harry.

"Nah, we can wait until the weekend," Daphne said. "There's no rush, and Mother and Father both are up to their chins in wedding preparation. No need to give them more to process."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of an owl pecking on glass. Harry waved his wand to open the window, and the owl flew to a perch that sat on Daphne's desk. The note was on a little roll of parchment tied to the owl's leg. Daphne slipped the note out and rewarded the owl with a piece of jerky from the jar on the desk. She read the note, smiled, and handed it to Harry.

"Runes say girl, but they're less accurate the closer the caster is to the subject," read the note.

"Mrs. Greengrass?" asked Harry.

"Definitely, that's her handwriting," Daphne said.

"Well, wouldn't that be something?" Harry said. "A little girl. Girls never do anything wrong, so, no disciplinary problems! No fighting, no conspiring with cronies. Plus, we get to pick out girl names. What do you like?"

"Now that is getting ahead of yourself, Head Auror," Daphne said.

"You know who I've been thinking about lately? Iolanthe Peverell, who brought The Mill with her when she married Hardwin Potter," said Harry. "Do you like Iolanthe? I need to see if I can do a little research and find out more about her."

"I like it fine, Harry, but it's too early to tell," Daphne said. "Don't go getting so invested you'll be whiplashed if we learn it's a boy."

Harry hadn't yet closed the window when a second owl flew in and joined the first, who sat on the perch, pulling shreds of jerky from the piece he'd been given.

Harry pulled the little roll of parchment from the thread on the owl's leg and read it.

"Runes say girl, congratulations!" said the note. It was signed, "H."

"Hermione," Harry said, handing over the note.

Daphne read the note and handed it back.

"Iolanthe would be very nice," Daphne said. "Iolanthe Potter."

"Welcome to the family, Iolanthe," said Harry.