Ah, you wish to hear more of the tale? What happened after Harry and Fleur married? What about Ron? And all the others? We would be sitting here listening to me talk until the world's ending, trying to narrate all the stories. But very well, I shall do my best. Listen carefully.
Having received numerous blessings from beings powerful and benevolent, including at least two who had been, in old times, worshipped as fertility deities, Harry and Fleur's marriage proved fruitful indeed. Love each other and multiply they did, the Potter family came to be known as the Potter Clan, the number of their offspring eclipsing the number of all the Weasleys in Britain, counting all three Weasley branches. Much like their parents, the children were talented and willful. Fortunate then it was that due to the tree donated by Elena's enclave, they had a direct route to Grandma Elena. With a bright smile, a soft kiss and a warm embrace, she welcomed any and every Potter child. While Minerva McGonagall claimed that the Potters were responsible for more of her grey hair than any other family, there was always a fond smile playing on her lips. And indeed, she found herself a frequent guest at the Potter House, gladly visiting some of her favourite students.
As a sign of the wide network of friends the Potters had managed to build around themselves, many of them helped out with keeping watch of the children, especially when knightly duties called Harry and Fleur away. Aside from Ron or Neville, even Luna or Hagrid, from time to time, you could find a mysterious lady in the Potter home. Those who had had the chance, remembered her from the Potter wedding, the strawberry-blonde assistant of Eufydd who had helped officiate the wedding and had tied the knot over Harry and Fleur's hands. Emily Airgeadcos was a welcome presence at the Potter House. Her sharp wit helped keep the numerous children in line, but they all knew that under the layer of biting jokes, kindness prevailed. The Silver Legged Lady, the children agreed, told the best stories, but if you were to ask her, that place surely belonged to her long-time mentor, Eufydd.
As time went unceasingly on, the children grew up and blossomed. The parents glowed in pride when their first daughter, Celeste, became a healer at St Mungo's, earning great renown and widespread love with her deft wand hand, bright smile and unrivalled compassion. Their next daughter, Fayette, was a free spirit and gifted with a talent to create unmatched beauty on the canvas. Her paintings became as sought after as the jewels made by Harry and Fleur.
Their first son, Henry, following in his mother's footsteps, took up the harp and his voice was known to bring smiles, laughter, or tears and crying to his audience, in accordance with his songs.
Many more followed, aurors and other fighters against the darker elements of the world, protectors of the people, statesmen doing their best to ensure a good life for all, creative and adventurous souls who have expanded the horizons of magical lore. Potters went on to play Quidditch, craft wands and teach at Hogwarts.
Adventures in child-rearing were not all that the Potters experienced though. Their duties in service to Gwyn ap Nudd took them to various distant corners of the world, rooting out a necromancer coven in the Alps, eradicating a vampire organization bent on reviving the Impaler of House Dräculesti, or thinning out the Draugar in Sweden, threatening to spill out into the muggle world.
There is a Faerie Wife in Ron's future, the maiden he had met at the Potters' wedding persisting in pursuing him and breaking through the walls of self-doubt encircling Ron's heart. Ronald o Wahanol Lygaid, Ronald of Different Eyes, did Angharad the Lake Maiden call him. With her gentle demeanour, patient care and quiet support resembling the quiet peaceful burbling of a spring, she brought out the man she had seen that he could become. Ron became the caretaker of a beautiful lake in the countryside. Enjoying a quiet life with his wife, often visiting his friends or inviting them, gladly playing host. Their children, though not as numerous as the Potters, were uncommonly talented in magic, especially healing, and brought much respect to the Weasley name. In the next generation, a Potter and a Weasley married and Harry and Ron became bound even tighter, a true, inseparable family.
As Harry and Fleur ever honed their craft, pouring their love into their works, even the goblin smiths cast envious glances at the pair. However, every time the goblins tried to send out one of their agents to find out the Potters' secrets or sabotage their workshop, they were met with inexplicable misfortune, as if the house itself was making sure to protect those who lived inside. Some, though, never got even that close, being found by snarling hounds, sending unearthly chills down the agents' spines. As if they faced beings far worse than any dog.
As time went on, the Potters' deeds became history, then they faded into legends, until seemingly getting lost in the mists of time. Yet the Aesir and Vanir still sing praise and tell tales of the quietly brave Harry Potter, mighty in his wrath, and of Fleur Delacour, his courageous and bright hawk-eyed spear-wife.
Magical beings across Central Europe whispered of the phantom-like houndmasters of the Wild Hunt. And even ordinary wizards lived more in peace, subconsciously knowing that even though it seemed that light may momentarily diminish, the forces of Darkness were neither unmatched nor unchallenged.
And whenever Dark mages gathered, desperately trying to reverse the natural order of things, guided by their lust for power and primal fear of death, they could expect to hear the faint, fading sound of hounds barking. A slim shadow would appear next, only the bright green pinpricks of his burning eyes visible, as his magic and spectral hounds cut a bloody swathe through his foes. And those that would escape him? A white shadow, covered in sleek, sharp, silvery feathers would unerringly intercept them, amber hawk-like eyes freezing the necromancers in place. This foe unlike any they had faced before, akin to the formidable Samodiva of old, would sever the threads of their lives.
The Potter House in Godric's Hollow, still cosy and standing next to an enormous oak tree that has given shade and peace to countless Potters, is in the loving hands of Harry and Fleur's many-times grandchildren.
But it is said that if you go to the world across ninefold rivers and sevenfold mountains, or perhaps through a gateway carefully hidden in an otherwise ordinary, peaceful hillock, you shall arrive in the Land of All Seasons, a wondrous place brimming with the strange and beautiful. There, you shall find a house. Small, cosy, just enough to fit two people living together.
And should you come closer?
Ring!
Ring!
The song of hammer falling on metal greets you. Come even closer and the tinkling tones of a marvellous harp strummed by skilled, dextrous fingers, accompany the metal's song.
Dare you come even closer? Peek into one of the small windows. A pair of hounds is resting in the corner, white and lean, with blood-red snouts and ears, but it is the centre of the room that draws your attention. A man, hale and hearty, his hair a mess of black locks, swings the hammer, accompanied by blue flashes with each hit. Golden ribbons flow through the air, leaving the harp played by the beauteous songstress and wrap themselves around her husband with tear-inducing tenderness.
And on their fingers glow a pair of rings, bearing an ancient script. Are you a scholar? Oh, very well, I shall tell you what it says.
From this day to the last day.
Author's Note: And so ends the story of the Fey Knight and Dame. I would like to tell Emily that even though she is going through a very dark time, there are people who love her, who keep her in their hearts. They may be close, they may be quite far, but love her nonetheless. It is my fervent hope that she will get through the darkness that plagues her. She is in my thoughts.