"Fred was the inventor." He muttered, voice hoarse and unused. He wet his lips and looked pained for a long moment. "I never invented anything." With that, he stood up and suppressed a whine as he pushed back into the house. It left Harry, alone on the porch with a defeated expression, the baby in his arms babbling at him and pulling off his glasses. Harry pressed a kiss to the baby’s head and pulled him in close, curling into himself.