Jul 24

When the

Roses Bloom

Again - Harry

the Farmer Bucharest had fallen with little resistance from Grindelwald's

followers, the planned erection of wards and subsequent

attack having caught them off guard and unable to mount a

credible defence before they were quickly overwhelmed by the

ICW forces led by Petr.

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They had made good time with the arrangements and had

arrived only a few hours before the expected reinforcements

who were now engaging them at the southern border of the

country, the wards in place having forced them away from the

Romanian capital.

Grindelwald had not arrived, and Harry hadn't seen nor

heard anything of the man since they had last met in the

Ukraine and his foe had fled.

The thought made his nostrils flare in anticipation.

They would meet again, and the sooner the better for Harry

as far as he was concerned.

Still, it was disconcerting not knowing where he was or what

he was up to.

Whatever it was, Harry knew it would not bode well for him

and his men.

"They weren't expecting us to be there," Petr chuckled having

appeared beside him. "They don't know whether to attack or

to run. If they knew the city was ours already, they wouldn't

bother."

Harry nodded his agreement.

They'd be better put to use attempting to hold Bulgaria than

being slaughtered at the border.

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"What's next?" the Russian questioned.

"Well, I'm awaiting a report from someone in Bulgaria and

for the others to come back from leave. I already informed

them that we are here," Harry explained. "When they return,

you will be taking some leave for yourself."

"Me?" Petr asked with a frown.

"You need some time out too," Harry pointed out. "You're no

good to me if you're not rested, and since we arrived in the

Ukraine, you've been just as busy as me."

"That is my job," Petr snorted.

Harry offered the man a smile and squeezed his shoulder

fondly.

"It is," he agreed, "but you still need rest. Don't make me

order you to take it."

Petr nodded gratefully.

"Da, a rest would be appreciated, but what about my men?"

"Do you have someone you trust enough to lead them?"

Petr frowned thoughtfully.

"I have one man who could do it," he mused aloud. "I will

inform him of his temporary promotion. He will be thrilled."

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Judging by Petr's tone, Harry doubted the man in which he

spoke of would be pleased, but if he was anything like most of

the Russians he had met, he would take it in his stride.

"Tell him to report to me when he is available," Harry

instructed. "I'll run through his responsibilities with him."

Petr nodded before apparating away to undoubtedly re-join

his men at the border whilst Harry continued overseeing the

clean up here.

Bucharest had not suffered as much as other capitals, but it

would take days of work to ensure the natives were cared for

and the needed repairs to be completed.

Harry was assisting with the former, handing out clothing,

food, and making sure everyone had somewhere to stay.

Priority repairs to houses were made for those that didn't, but

for the time being, they were provided with a tent.

"Sarpe?" a voice gasped.

Harry looked down to be greeted by the fearful gaze of a

small girl, her eyes wide as she clung to the legs of a woman

who gently chastised the girl in her native tongue.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, not understanding what was said.

The woman sighed and offered him a look of apology.

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"I am sorry," she said in broken English. "This one's head has

been filled with lies about you."

"Lies?" Harry questioned, a frown marring his features.

The woman nodded as she pointed to a wall only a short

distance away, a poster with a picture of Harry having been

hung there.

Having seen it, he couldn't miss the dozens of others that

seemed to adorn every building in the street and Harry took

one to inspect it closer.

"What does it say?" he asked the woman.

She released a deep breath.

"It says to be aware of The Serpent," she sighed. "It is on the

posters and even on the radio. They say that you will steal our

children and unleash an army of basilisks on us."

"Who says that?"

"Grindelwald's men."

Harry laughed, though the woman nor any other of the

Romanians did so, some eying him the same way the little

girl did.

"That's ridiculous," he declared irritably.

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The woman smiled as she nodded.

"I know that, but they have been filling our heads with it for

weeks now. Many people here do not know what to believe."

Harry's jaw tightened, the feeling he was experiencing

reminiscent of how it had been during fourth year when his

name had come out of the Goblet of Fire.

"Where would I get an army of basilisks?" he snorted.

"From the farm."

"Farm?"

"The basilisk farm outside of the city. You do not know of it?"

Harry shook his head.

He remembered the man he had supplied the basilisk venom

to in Knockturn Alley having mentioned the farms, but he'd

not looked for one.

"No, I didn't know it was there, and I certainly don't have an

army of them. That would be a moronic thing to do."

"It would," the woman agreed with a tinkling laugh, "but that

is what we have been told."

"That I have an army of basilisks and will steal your

children?"

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The woman nodded, smirking, though Harry didn't see the

humour in the situation.

"Why don't you believe it?" he asked, shooting a glance at the

little girl who was still staring at him.

Any trace of amusement she may have felt vanished as the

woman swallowed deeply.

"I would never believe those that murdered my husband

because he chose to fight for his country."

At the mention of her father, the little girl began to cry, and

the woman picked her up off the ground. She could have

been no older than four and had already experienced so much.

"He died fighting for you all," Harry murmured.

"He was an auror. A very brave man," the woman replied

proudly.

"That he was," Harry agreed, conjuring a small, stuffed

unicorn for the girl, and offering it to her.

She looked to her mother for confirmation before accepting it

and pulling tight to her chest.

"He will need a name," Harry pointed out.

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The woman translated to the little girl who gave him a watery

smile before whispering to her mother.

"She would like to know your name."

"Harry," he replied.

The girl smiled and nodded.

"Then that is the name of the unicorn," the woman declared

fondly. "My name is Sorina, and this is Iulia."

"I'm pleased to meet you both," Harry said sincerely, pleased

to notice the others that had been watching him warily had

relaxed somewhat. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Sorina shook her head.

"They destroyed our home after killing my husband," she

explained. "There is nothing but rubble left."

"We should fix that," Harry decided. "Is it nearby?"

"Close to the Ministry," Sorina informed him, gesturing for

Harry to follow. "My husband worked many hours and living

close was needed for when he was on call."

Harry nodded his understanding though even he could see

the house was a lost cause when Sorina pointed out what

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remained of her home. Even magic would not fix this nor

hold it together even if it could be.

"I already know that nothing can be done," she sighed sadly,

"but maybe it is for the best. I have too many memories here,

the good ones soiled by the bad."

"Where will you stay?" Harry asked.

Sorina shrugged.

"When the Ministry is reinstated, maybe they will give me a

house."

"That won't be for some time," Harry explained as he

withdrew a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill from

within his robes and began scratching away.

When he was done, he handed it to Sorina, her eyes

widening in shock.

"I can not accept this!" she gasped, attempting to give it back.

"You can," Harry replied gently, closing her hand around the

bank draft he'd given her. "I created a charity just for things

like this and people who need it the most. Your husband died

doing what is right, and I imagine that he would rest easier

knowing that you were both being cared for."

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Sorina's eyes brimmed with tears, and she wiped them away

as she wrapped an arm around him and kissed him on the

cheek.

"I do not know what to say," she whispered.

"You do not have to say anything," Harry assured her.

Sorina shook her head.

"I could buy three houses with this money," she explained.

"Well, that will get you a new home and food for quite some

time. I will make sure to add you to our list of beneficiaries

and you will receive more when you need it."

"No, this will be more than enough," Sorina protested.

"Maybe," Harry shrugged, "but we don't know how long this

will last. Come on, I will make sure you have a tent until you

can find a home of your own."

By now Iulia had fallen asleep in her mother's arms, and they

made their way back towards where the men of the ICW

were distributing what was needed.

Harry was suddenly struck by a thought, one that filled him

with dread.

"Is there a dragon reserve here?" he asked.

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Sorina nodded, a grin tugging at her lips.

"The workers released them," she snorted. "They cannot get

out of the sanctuary, but Grindelwald's men do not know

how to use the protections, so they could not take them for

him."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

The last thing he wanted to do was deal with dozens of loose

dragons across the continent.

"And this basilisk farm, is it secure?"

"I do not know," Sorina replied apologetically. "You would

need to speak with Vasile, they are very secretive about their

work. I can introduce you to him."

Harry nodded appreciatively.

"That will be useful," he murmured. "Even blind basilisks are

dangerous," he added, rubbing the scars near his elbow, a

smile cresting his lips as he spotted some familiar faces

amongst the other men.

"I see you're as popular as ever," Charlus chuckled, holding up

one of the posters Harry had seen earlier.

"It's not funny," Harry grumbled.

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"No, it's not," Charlus agreed. "This could be quite bad if

people believe it."

"Which they do," Harry pointed out.

Charlus shook his head.

"I suppose it's a smear campaign to make you look bad," he

mused aloud.

Harry nodded, but for the time being, he had more pressing

matters to attend to.

"Can you find Sorina and her daughter a tent?" he asked.

Charlus peered over his shoulder at the woman.

"Another admirer? Minerva will be thrilled," he japed.

"Nothing like that," Harry muttered. "Her home has been

destroyed and her husband killed. They've got nothing."

"Bloody hell," Charlus grumbled. "Gilbert, help the woman

and the child," he instructed. "Make sure they have

everything we can give and then some."

Gilbert nodded before making his way towards Sorina who

gave Harry a final smile.

"I will find Vasile and ask him to pay you a visit," she

promised. "Thank you, Harry, for everything."

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"Who is Vasile?" Charlus questioned.

Harry could only shake his head.

"A man that will assist me with one of many things I need to

look into," Harry said dismissively. "How is she?"

"About ready to pop, I think," Charlus chuckled. "You need

to make sure you can be home for the birth. You'll never

forgive yourself if you miss it."

"I know," Harry replied tiredly. "I will be. How was your time

away? Your mother?"

"She's coping as well as can be expected," Charlus said

warmly. "She is missing home, but she is safe."

"And what about the rest of your time?"

Harry frowned as Charlus rubbed the back of his neck, his

gaze shifting briefly towards Arcturus before he looked away

once more.

"It was nice to be home," he answered sheepishly as he

busied himself by handing out food parcels to the still

gathered crowd.

It was unlike Charlus to do anything mischievous or even

controversial, but Harry had the feeling he had been up to

something, and if the glance he gave an unexpecting Arcturus

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was anything to go by, Harry had no doubt that it involved

the Lord Black in some way.

(Break)

So much had happened since she had last been here; the day

that Harry Evans had apprehended her. Eleanor had expected

that her home would have been discovered, yet here it stood,

untouched and just as she had left it.

The same, however, could not be said for her country and the

people living here.

She had arrived in Sofia a little over a week prior to find the

usually bustling magical district almost empty, the streets

seemingly occupied only by Grindelwald's men who were

much more vigilant than those in Germany.

Here, they were anticipating the counter-invasion of the

ICW, something that Eleanor hoped would come soon.

What had become of her homeland was nothing short of

heart-breaking.

The few men, women, and children she did see looked

broken, their morale having been diminished by the months

under Grindelwald's regime, the countenances speaking of

the hardship they'd endured.

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As far as any of them knew, the world had abandoned them

to their fate, and they went about their days in a state of

reluctant acceptance.

What else could they do?

The situation in Bulgaria was bad, and Eleanor wasn't even

sure that an ICW liberation would be enough for the magical

population to ever truly recover, but they would try,

nonetheless.

Harry had promised he would do all he could to save them,

and if nothing else, he had proven to be a man of his word,

someone who had never given Eleanor a reason to doubt him.

If only her fellow countrymen knew that, but for little they

would have been told, they were perhaps dreading Harry's

arrival.

The posters she had found stuck to almost every wall here

depicted Harry as a monster, everything that Grindelwald

had proven himself to be, but with how long the country had

been isolated, could she expect the Bulgarians to believe

anything else.

What information they were privy to was only what

Grindelwald allowed, and according to the posters, the radio

transmissions, and the public service announcements played

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for all in the streets to hear, Harry was their enemy, and

Grindelwald the protector they should look to.

Begrudgingly, Eleanor admitted that the tactic, though

brazen and false, was quite the stroke of genius.

If Harry and the ICW, the latter not having been mentioned

in any capacity, were seen as the threat, they would get no

assistance from the locals when they arrived to liberate them.

That was where Eleanor knew she would come in.

Having grown in these streets and being familiar with most of

the locals, she knew whom it was she should approach to

begin sowing the seeds of truth and doubt.

Thus far, she had merely observed the comings and goings of

the magical district, the patrols, and changeovers of

Grindelwald's men, and watching for the appearance of

anyone familiar she could identify as a potential ally.

She had spoken to none yet but had spotted a few people she

knew who would be open to listening to her, and

Grindelwald's followers seemed to keep a regular schedule.

In all, she calculated there were around fifteen hundred of

various nationalities loyal to the Dark wizard, something she

would be informing Harry of shortly.

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For now, she wished for but a few moments to look around

her house once more, and perhaps have a sleep in her own

bed.

The prison had been terrible, and most nights since she had

been freed had been little better. The hotel in Berlin had been

a welcome reprieve, but there was nothing quite like sleeping

in your own bed, especially as it had been so long since she

had done so.

(Break)

Dear Nicholas,

I hope this f inds you hale and hearty.

The man you mentioned in your letter undoubtedly exists, but I'm

afraid he is little more than a whisper on so few lips.

Truly, he is a master of subterfuge which only speaks to how

dangerous he is.

I apologise that I have nothing more for you and wish you well in

your endeavour to identify him.

Yours truly,

Iqbal Qureshi

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Nicholas sighed as he threw the letter into the fire and began

stroking Camille thoughtfully.

For months he had corresponded with any and all who may

be able to assist him in identifying the elusive Weber, but all

his contacts had drawn a blank beyond confirming the man

was not merely a myth.

It was frustrating to say the least.

How could someone so prolifically involved in such an

egregious movement be so anonymous?

It made no sense to Nicholas nor Albus who had equally

spent his own contacts in the pursuit of the man.

The alchemist was not one to concede defeat so easily, but

Iqbal had been his final hope, and if the former Minister of

Foreign affairs for the ICW couldn't help him in the matter,

he doubted that anyone else could.

"Do not be so hard on yourself," Perenelle implored. "You

have done all you can."

"I have, but failure is not something I can swallow," he replied

grimly.

"You are a stubborn man, Nicholas," Perenelle huffed. "You

must remember that for the last few centuries we have

isolated ourselves and the world is a very different place."

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Nicholas nodded.

"I no longer recognise it," he admitted wryly. "I never

believed it would become so full. We are like an infestation of

parasites, and what the world is now is something I find I

care little for."

Perenelle released a deep breath.

"In our reclusiveness, we have missed much," she agreed.

"Gone are the days of discovery and simpler times, but it is

still the people that suffer. Whether they draw swords or fire

guns at one another, the result is the same, only on a much

bigger scale now. Disease and famine still exist and always

will. Perhaps our vision of what the world would be was rose-

tinted and what it is was inevitable."

Nicholas snorted.

"Some days I truly grow tired of it," he admitted. "I have no

regrets, but I am quite ashamed that the memory of man is so

short, that they continue to make the same errors, and here

we are, embroiled in a war that spells only disaster."

Perenelle wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Do not let it dishearten you," she urged. "The world has

survived many things we thought would end it."

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"You're right," Nicholas replied with a smile. "I think I'll take

Camille for a walk before she decides to chew my slippers

again."

Perenelle fought back a grin.

Nicholas had grown to love the rambunctious dog, but she

had an obsession with his slippers.

In the months since he found her, he'd needed to replace four

pairs she had destroyed.

Still, as much as it annoyed her husband, he could not stay

mad at Camille. She would give him one sad look and he

would crumble.

Nicholas was a soft-hearted man, and Camille knew how to

manipulate him.

"Take a rain jacket," Perenelle called as he left the room, "and

some boots."

"Yes dear," Nicholas called as he readied himself. "Come on,

girl, let's go to the woods."

Camille merely wagged her tail happily, bounding out of the

front garden as he opened the door.

(Break)

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It became quickly apparent to Arcturus that something was

bothering Charlus. Ever since he had returned two days ago,

the man had been quiet, though it was evident he had

something to say. On more than one occasion Arcturus had

caught him about to speak his thoughts, only for the Lord

Potter to frown and busy himself with a menial task.

It irked Arcturus, but he said nothing.

He wasn't going to press the matter, not when he was

enjoying seeing the man fumble over himself so

uncharacteristically, even if his usually forthcoming friend

was not so talkative.

Arcturus had an idea what his thoughts pertained to but a

part of him was not relishing the subject being broached.

He respected Charlus much more than most others he'd come

to know, however, the discussion would undoubtedly change

things between them.

"Lord Black?" Charlus probed from the doorway.

Arcturus frowned.

The discussion would evidently be more serious than he had

anticipated if Charlus was addressing him with such

formality.

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"What can I do for you, Lord Potter?" he returned evenly,

following suit, slipping into his lordly demeanour with

practised ease.

Charlus braced himself by taking a deep breath.

"I was hoping I could discuss something of the utmost

importance with you."

Arcturus fought the urge to smirk at his friend's discomfort

and gestured for the man to take a seat.

Charlus did so, nodding gratefully for the invitation.

"I suppose it must be quite important if you are insisting on

this charade."

"You know how it is," Charlus sighed. "When it is a matter of

family interests, our traditions must be adhered to. How else

would you know how serious I am if I do not treat it so?"

Arcturus conceded the point with a nod, leaning back in his

chair to listen to his counterpart.

"I would like to discuss the possibility of negotiating a

marriage contract between myself and Dorea."

Arcturus's nostrils flared at the thought, but he swallowed

down the protectiveness he felt, not that Charlus would know

that.

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Still, he was taken slightly aback by the request.

He had perhaps thought that he would enquire about maybe

courting Dorea, but, as Arcturus had learned well enough

during their years at Hogwarts, Charlus was not one to do

things by halves.

"My sister?" Arcturus asked dangerously.

Much to Charlus's credit, he didn't flinch as he nodded.

Once more, the Lord Black resisted the urge to smirk,

choosing to narrow his eyes.

Just because he liked Charlus, it didn't mean he was going to

make this easy for him.

In truth, he could think of no better man for Dorea, one who

would treat her with the utmost care and respect she

deserved.

He remembered what seemed to be so long ago now when

the very topic was touched upon with his sister, and Arcturus

had been somewhat brutal with his rebuttal that such a match

was simply not likely.

Dorea had been devastated, and now, Arcturus was pleased

that his words were proven false, that the woman he held

most dear had the chance at the happiness he knew she had

wished for.

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"My sister?" he repeated, nonetheless. "You wish to marry my

sister?"

"More than anything," Charlus answered sincerely.

His words were impassioned, even defiant in a sense that

made Arcturus realise that this wasn't merely an attraction

between the two, but somehow, their feelings had deepened

over the years.

Was it an infatuation, or much more?

"You're in love with her," he whispered in disbelief.

"I am," Charlus admitted unashamedly, and Arcturus

chuckled humourlessly.

This certainly changed things.

He had considered that it was perhaps the taboo nature of the

relationship they would share, that both knew it was

something that they couldn't have that drew them together,

but it had gone beyond that.

How or when, Arcturus knew not, but it had, and it was no

longer a point of amusement for him, not when it concerned

two people that meant so much to him and their happiness.

"You do understand the implications of this, don't you?" he

asked. "There will be many who will be displeased."

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"I don't care," Charlus replied firmly. "For once, I'm going to

think of myself."

Arcturus could respect that, though his curiosity was not yet

satisfied.

"Is this what she wants?"

He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from

Charlus, for the man to look him in the eye and confirm it.

"It is."

"How?" he asked. "I'm no fool, I know you have been writing

to one another. You were rather poor at hiding that."

Charlus shrugged, the burden of the feelings he'd carried still

weighing him down.

"I suppose it started whilst we were at Hogwarts. From the

day that Harry and I intervened on her behalf with

McLaggen and his lot, we have been on good terms."

Arcturus nodded his understanding.

"Something I am still grateful for," he murmured. "She really

came into her own after that."

"She did," Charlus agreed with a smile, "but we were nothing

but cordial until after we had both graduated. Of course,

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there was the Longbottom wedding and then when we

bumped into each other in Diagon Alley. That was before the

unpleasantness between my father and your brother."

"I was aware that you spent time with her in Diagon Alley,"

Arcturus sighed. "I warned her of the potential fallout."

"As did my father with me," Charlus explained, "but he gave

me his blessing if I wished to pursue anything further with

Dorea."

That did surprise Arcturus, and he could not maintain his

stoic expression upon hearing it.

"Did he?"

Charlus nodded, smiling as he seemingly reminisced on a

conversation he'd shared with the late Lord Potter.

"He explained the complexity of making it work and the

political and social implications, but I didn't care. I still don't

care."

"But neither yourself nor your father approached me?"

Charlus shook his head.

"My father was killed shortly after," he said sadly, "and with

him having killed your brother, I thought it to be impossible.

After the funeral, it wasn't until your injury that I saw her

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again. I thought too much had happened between our

families or that enough time had passed that she would have

moved on. As soon as I saw her, I knew I had been lying to

myself."

"And you have been writing ever since," Arcturus finished.

Charlus nodded.

"We have," he admitted, "and I saw her when I was on leave.

I took her to dinner where we attracted more than our fair

share of attention, but neither of us cared. I love her, and she

feels the same for me. As difficult as it might be, I'm willing

to do what it takes for us to both be happy. So much time has

already been wasted getting to where we are now."

Arcturus simply stared at the man, surprised by some of what

had been revealed to him, but full of admiration for Charlus.

He was a typical Gryffindor in many ways; wore his heart on

his sleeve and was as brazen as they came, but for once,

Arcturus was pleased for this tact.

With Charlus Potter, he always knew where he stood, and

though Arcturus would never believe anyone would be worthy

of his sister, the man seated before him was as close as

someone would come.

"So, you are seeking my approval?" he asked.

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"I doubt anyone would get that," Charlus snorted. "I'm asking

for your acceptance."

Arcturus eyed the man speculatively, looking for any signs of

deception.

As expected, there were none, but he stood and paced back

and forth several times before speaking once more.

"Stand up, Potter."

Charlus did so, and Arcturus nodded thoughtfully.

"I want your word that you will honour her, that you will

always look out for her best interests before any other," he

demanded. "I want to know that you would give your life for

her just as readily as I would, and I want you to assure me

that Dorea will never know a day without the love she

deserves!"

"You have my word," Charlus replied immediately.

"Just like that?"

Charlus nodded solemnly.

"Just like that," he parroted.

For the first time since the conversation began, Arcturus

smiled, pleased that Dorea would get the happiness she so

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craved, and just as pleased for his friend who had endured so

much heartache these past years.

Arcturus had never been an outwardly affectionate man, not

to those not of his blood or his wife, but he pulled Charlus

into a tight embrace, in no doubt that Dorea now had two

men in her life who would do whatever it took to make her

happy.

"Then let the negotiations begin," he declared, gesturing for

Charlus to sit once more.

(Break)

"What is the oldest snake you have?" Harry asked.

The Romanian serpent farmer, Vasile, glared at him, not even

trying to hide his mistrust or reluctance to cooperate. Harry,

however, was taking no chances.

Basilisks were amongst the most dangerous creatures in the

world, and it would be foolish to do so.

"Our oldest is around eighty years old," Vasile replied. "She is

around twenty feet."

Much smaller than the one in the Chamber of Secrets, but no

less dangerous if it was to bite him, something Harry had no

intention of experiencing again.

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"And how many snakes altogether?"

"We keep no more than fifteen at a time," Vasile sighed.

"Most stop producing venom after a while, so we replace

them."

Harry hummed unhappily but didn't comment further until

they reached what most would deem to be a rather innocuous

rock, but the magic radiating from it was unmissable.

The spells keeping the snakes within what he discovered to

be an underground cavern were extensive, the magic

dangerous for those that did not know how to counter it.

The cavern itself was humid and Harry frowned.

"Why is it so warm?" he questioned.

"Snakes need heat. You should know this," Vasile answered

patronisingly.

Harry shook his head.

"Basilisks are creatures of the cold and darkness. They thrive

in it."

Vasile scoffed and gestured for Harry to advance.

"Since you are such an expert, why don't you go ahead and see

how they welcome you."

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An angry hissing greeted him as he entered the adjoining

chamber, the thin layer of mist generated from the heat

obscuring his vision.

"Stay calm, young ones," a voice spoke. "Give them no reason to

harm you and you will be safe."

"I will not harm you," Harry called.

"They bring us another of our kind," the voice declared.

Excited hissing followed, incoherent for the most part but

Harry could sense what they were feeling.

Making his way through the mist, he came to a series of tanks

that housed the basilisks, most within being quite small for

their breed but one much larger than the others.

As expected, their eyes had been removed but the biggest was

tasting the air, its tongue flicking.

"You are an old one," it hissed gently. "Much older than me."

"I'm not one of you," Harry replied. "I am a man, like those that

take your venom."

The basilisk reared up slowly and Harry got to see the

creature in all its glory as it did so.

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Compared to the one he had slew in the chamber, it was tiny,

though to any that had not witnessed such a magnificent

beast as he had, this would be a behemoth.

"You can understand me?"

"I can," Harry replied. "There are some of us that are gifted with

your language and magic."

"You smell like us."

"I was bitten by one of your kind," Harry explained. "She was

much older and much bigger than you. I was healed but her venom

stays with me."

"She was strong," the basilisk acknowledged.

Harry nodded.

"A beautiful creature, much like yourself."

The basilisk hissed almost demurely.

"We are monsters," it declared. "We give our venom and then they

kill us."

"Why haven't they killed you?"

"Because I feed the little ones."

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Despite his rather unpleasant past with the creatures, he felt

for the basilisk. She was kept alive to only feed the hatchlings

and give her venom. This was no life for such a beast.

"Isn't it too hot for you down here?"

"I have grown used to it, and the hatchlings know no better, but

we do not like it."

"Then I will make it cooler for you," Harry declared as he drew

his wand.

With a few waves of his wand, the temperature dropped

considerably, and the mist vanished.

The serpents hissed contentedly.

"Better?" he asked.

The large basilisk simply hissed happily, enjoying the

preferred environment.

"It needs to stay like this for them," he explained to Vasile

who was staring at him wide-eyed. "They do not like the

heat."

The man nodded dumbly.

"Who owns this place?"

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"Dimitri was the owner, but he died," Vasile sighed. "I do not

know what we will do."

"Then I will buy it," Harry declared. "I will fund it on the

condition that the basilisks are treated properly and with the

respect they deserve. They will be fed, and cared for, and I

will be checking in regularly to ensure that is happening."

In an ideal world, Harry would like to set them free, but they

would not survive and would be hunted just because of what

they were. The best he could do was ensure they lived a good

life and that they were happy.

"What is the venom used for?"

"We sell it to research companies," Vasile explained. "There

are many potential benefits for the venom to be used in

healing."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"How many workers are there?"

"We had nine, but six are dead."

"Then find more," Harry instructed. "I will compensate you

all generously so long as you adhere to my terms. I want a

comprehensive log kept of the care of the animals, and how

much venom from each is produced. There will be a ledger of

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all contracts and finances, and in turn, I will ensure the job is

safe for you and the others that work here. Understood?"

Vasile swallowed deeply and nodded, gasping as Harry seized

him by the throat.

"I will say this only once," he growled. "If I find that these

creatures are not treated to my standards, I will fucking feed

you to them. Basilisk venom is an extremely painful way to

die. Have you seen what it does?"

"Yes," Vasile choked.

"Then you will not wish to suffer it."

Vasile shook his head and Harry released him.

"They will be given better accommodation, preferably

somewhere they can roam more freely. I will leave it up to you

to find a suitable place and I will place the protections there

myself. Do we have an agreement?"

"We do."

"Good," Harry replied before he turned his attention back to

the largest of the basilisks. "You will be better cared for," he

promised. "You will soon have a new home and lots of food. All

that I ask is that you provide venom when required without

attacking the humans. They will not harm you."

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The basilisk hissed happily in response.

"Well, don't you have work to get one with?" Harry snapped

at Vasile who all but fled from the cavern.

Harry knew that he had perhaps been harsh with the man,

but he wanted there to be no mistaking how serious he was.

The basilisk, though a dangerous foe was beautiful in its own

way and something Harry felt a strong connection to.

The very essence of the creature dwelled within him, after all.

Other than for their venom, the serpents here were of little

use to him. It would be too dangerous to attempt to use them

for the war, even without their sight.

He had no doubt they had a keen sense of smell, but he could

not expect them to differentiate between friend and foe, nor

would he.

These were not weapons of war but magnificent beings that

deserved to live, and though he was perhaps being a little too

sentimental, he didn't care.

Despite how he had been gifted his parselmouth abilities and

the trauma he'd suffered having been bitten by a basilisk, he

was fond of them both, and had long ago accepted that they

were a part of what made him who he was.

(Break)

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Comments (8)

Dear Gellert,

It pains me to be the bearer of unwelcome news once more, but I

must inform you that Romania has fallen to the ICW forces.

Although your followers fought valiantly, they were unable to

snatch victory.

I await any instruction you wish to give.

W

Gellert cursed under his breath, his months spent recruiting

more men having been fruitful in many ways, but disastrous

in others.

He could ill-afford to keep losing land to the men of the

ICW, and he knew in that moment that something had to

change.

"Pack your things, Cassie," he instructed. "It is time for us to

return."

Newest First

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Thanks for another highly entertaining chapter, and I really

loved the part with the basilisks

""My sister?" Arcturus asked dangerously.

Much to Charlus's credit, he didn't flinch as he nodded"

Pathetic. So sick of pureblood marriage contracts. It's

especially weird (and in fact quite a bit sexist) that they go on

to negotiate terms of said contract without Dorea present.

Because this isn't a marriage of equals, she's being married off

and we're supposed to feel relief (?) that her autonomy wasn't

completely stolen because it's someone she loves that she's

being contracted to marry?

Such a tired fucking trope using the author's favorite lazy OC

characterization.

Preview Post Comment…

AvidReader2425 2 weeks ago · 0 Likes

Still here, somehow 2 months ago · 1 Like

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Lol who's forcing you to read

Excellent chapter.

I liked how Charlus spent years thinking Arcturus would

oppose his marrying Dorea, only for him to agree the first

time it was brought up.

For a second I thought Harry was acquiring an army of

basilisks.

I'm glad that the Charlus, Dorea and Acturus part of the plot

is advancing. I overall enjoyed how you followed up on the

various characters as well as the scenes with Harry advancing

his international reputation and holdings.

Please post before Thursday. Thank you very much in

advance. I really appreciated it and liked it a lot. I am sorry if

lol 2 months ago · 0 Likes

Steve Moss 3 months ago · 0 Likes

Village Mystic 3 months ago · 0 Likes

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When the Roses Bloom Again - My F il

When the Roses Bloom

Again -

I am being rude or annoying you with my reviews; I don't

mean to be rude or annoy you with my reviews; I just really

like your Story.

He he ... so Grindelwalds men create the rumor that Harry

has Basiliks under his command and now he trully has them.

Even if in a completly different way.

I think it is a remnant of Hagrid that he is more likely to

protect any animal magical or mundane rather than to use

them in a fight between humans / magicals.

It is a shame i have to wait until thursday for next chapter,

good one.

Michiru Kaio 3 months ago · 0 Likes

Gabriel Fernando Juarez Lima 3 months ago ·

0 Likes

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Author/Site Owner: Lee : TheBlack'sResurgence

Email: (For all enquiries)

Family Respite for Some

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