Ron shook his head, resignation settling in his frown. He turned to Hermione, voice softening. "I know you had the best intentions with this, but that..." Ron gestured loosely at Harry, "...is not the same person we shared a compartment with on the Hogwarts Express."

He turned to walk away, his footsteps heavy against the marble floor. Hermione called after him in desperation.

"Ron, wait."

"Ah, let him go."

Ron paused, looking back over his shoulder. "I love you, Hermione, but I don't know what you're trying to prove by forcing this. We're not one of the families you need to moderate reconciliations with on behalf of some... mistreated house-elves. This was a waste of time."

"Don't say that," she pleaded softly.

"Y'know, sometimes I think he really did die during the Battle of Hogwarts," Ron said bitterly. "Because that man, right there, is not Harry Potter."

With that, he disappeared into the crowd. A profound sadness clouded Hermione's face as she returned to Harry's side, her shoulders slumped. Rudely, the automated female voice of the elevators chimed coolly.

"Mind your step. The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

"Like I say—peace, not war," murmured Hermione. "At least the two of you spoke to one another. Progress?"

"He's right, you know," Harry said quietly, his gaze distant. "We're never going to agree."

"You fell out over the correct rules of a rescue operation."

"Ron made a stupid mistake. He should've never done what he did."

"Yes, he made a mistake running into that building," she conceded. "But it was a brave thing he did. You never recognized him for that. He knows he made a mistake... he does."

"It didn't sound that way to me."

"You know Ron. He's being stubborn," Hermione said, her eyes searching his.

"It forced us apart, his stubbornness," Harry responded.

"And your stubbornness is keeping the two of you apart," she countered. "You should've given him another chance, Harry, instead of filling his position and hiring someone else."

"I made a decision. It's done," he said flatly.

"Ugh! I cannot stand you two like this! You have to get over your differences."

"Sometimes families have differences."

"We're not just family, Harry. We're friends," she insisted.

"We haven't been friends in years, Hermione," he replied, not bothering to hide the melancholy in his voice.

"You were best friends at Hogwarts!" she protested.

"But maybe we'll never be friends again," Harry admitted. "That was a long time ago. Ron and I are okay with how things are. It's not easy, but we've come to accept it. You should, too, Hermione. I mean, what did you expect? Another adventure? We won't be sneaking under the trapdoor anytime soon. Those days are far behind us. We're adults now. And adults have to solve their own problems before anyone else's."

He held up the Time-Turner, its delicate mechanisms glinting momentarily in the light. "I'm following the proper procedures and bringing this to the Minister. Even if it is Percy."

"Even after he bungled that meeting?" she asked skeptically.

"He's still your Minister," Harry replied.

A long silence settled between them. Hermione seemed reluctant to part, and Harry felt a lingering weight pressing on his conscience.

"Voldemort, huh?" she said softly. Harry nodded, a faint, incredulous smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know why Percy is giving in to these conspiracies. He's been off his nut lately. Do you know he spent 10,000 Galleons on that collection of cravats? Molly would have a fit if she found out."

"You don't know the half," Harry replied with a wry chuckle. "He spent another fifty on experimental weaponry. Magical grenades, that sort of thing." He paused, considering. "You could've talked to him about this privately. Percy respects you, Hermione."

"Never. The moment I step into his office, he'll try to convince me to work for him again," she said.

Hermione gazed down at the magical device, then back up at Harry. "You've spent most of your career looking for a Time-Turner, haven't you? And then it came to you, through Ron. Dumbledore would call that significant."

"Dumbledore..." Harry echoed wistfully. "I could use his advice right now."

"With the Tempest?" she inquired.

"No, with my son," he confessed.

Hermione reassured him with a soft touch. "You have more experience with parenting than he ever did, Harry.

"I guess. I still... I don't know. I feel like I've never been ready to be a father," he admitted. "I had so much help with Teddy, and James made it easy. But with Albus... I'm making mistakes left and right."

"Maybe patience is all we need," she suggested. "Harry, it's the start of term at Hogwarts, and so the start of a new school year for our two families. I want us all to be friends again."

"You know, Ginny says she thinks I see more of Delphi than her," he remarked thoughtfully. "Do you think there's a point where we made a choice—parent of the year or Ministry official of the year?"

"Perhaps. But I feel like we were both made for these jobs."

"Now we're back to fate and destiny again."

Hermione hesitated. "Harry, may I ask you a... paradoxical question?"

"Paradoxical?" He raised an eyebrow. "I haven't the faintest idea where this is headed but ask away."

"Your scar. It's not... hurting again, is it?" she asked cautiously.

Harry instinctively scratched the back of his left hand, a subtle gesture. "Of course, it isn't. How could it be?"

"It's just... we saw you reach for it during the meeting."

He offered a practiced smile. "Nervous habit, Hermione."

"You don't actually think Voldemort could have returned somehow, do you?" she asked with careful concern.

For the briefest moment, Harry hesitated. Then his answer came out steadier than ever before,

"No. No, I don't."

"Harry, don't forget, I understand the responsibilities you've faced over the years. They are beyond anyone's imagining. And I know the final decisions always have to be in your hands, just remember you cannot do this alone," she reminded him earnestly.

"Thank you for your concern, Hermione. I'm not alone," he assured her.

They shared a faint, mutual smile before turning toward the elevators. As they stepped into separate carriages, the golden grilles slid closed with a soft clang.

"Mind your step. The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," the automated female voice intoned.

The noise of the atrium faded as the elevators ascended, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. He leaned against the polished wood paneling, the weight of the Time-Turner heavy in his pocket. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainties—yet, he knew he would face it head-on.

After all, he was Harry Potter.