Sep 1
When the
Roses Bloom
Again - The
Most Precious
of Things Having only been home for a few days before Rosa's
birthday, Harry and Minerva decided they would keep the
affair an intimate one. They had invited her parents, the
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Flamels, and Rosalina for dinner, but had not hosted a
party.
With Charlus still away, he had sent a present for his
goddaughter with the promise that he would visit as soon
as he was home, which would be soon if he accepted the
invitation to the wedding, something the man wouldn't
miss for anything.
Although it had been nice to shut out the world for a
while, the ever-growing pile of missives Harry received
were beginning to play on his mind, so he had finally opted
to address the more pressing ones.
His business ventures were proving to be more profitable
with each passing year, but it was the ones stamped with
official Ministry seals that he responded to, making use of
the post office in Hogsmeade to do so.
A written reply would, much to his relief, suffice for most,
but there were those he would need to deal with in person.
Those had also been responded to with an explanation that
he would visit when he was able to do so, but his own
Minister of Magic could not be dismissed so easily.
Harry had a strong disliking for politics, but as Minerva
had pointed out, Minister Fawley was someone he would
have to make an exception for.
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It would not do to offend the man.
The last thing Harry wanted was another Minister as an
enemy.
Fudge had made his life miserable with his lies, and the
wizarding public had proven to be fickle, willing to listen to
almost anything the Minister told them.
As such, Harry found himself in the Ministry, disguised as
he made his way through the atrium and towards Fawley's
office.
"Wand, please," the guard behind the desk demanded.
Wordlessly, Harry handed it to the man who ran it through
the scanner and handed him the printed piece of
parchment without even reading it.
A rather lax security guard indeed, something that Harry
was grateful for.
It meant that he could pass by without any attention being
drawn to him.
He'd made the mistake of visiting Diagon Alley to buy a
present for Rosa, in disguise of course, but what he had
seen was enough to put him off making any public
appearances for the foreseeable future, at least.
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Banners had been hung calling for him to be elected
Minister along with other messages offering words of
gratitude for what he had done.
Harry shook his head of those thoughts as he reached the
office of Minister Fawley, only to be intercepted by a trio of
aurors who had their wands drawn.
"What is your business here?" a large blonde man
demanded.
"I'm here to speak with the Minister," Harry replied. "He is
expecting me."
"Name?"
"Harry Evans."
The Blonde frowned as he scrutinised Harry, looking for
anything familiar that he would have likely seen in the
newspaper over the past week.
With a sigh and a wave of his hand, Harry removed the
disguise.
"Bloody hell, it is him," one of the man's companions
gasped.
"And I would prefer that my presence was kept quiet,"
Harry said firmly.
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The man's jaw snapped shut and he nodded frantically.
"I'll let the Minister know you're here, Evans," the blonde
broke in, turning and knocking on the office door, entering
when he was bid to do so.
He re-emerged a moment later and beckoned Harry
forward.
"I am required to search you, Commander Evans," he said
apologetically.
Harry nodded his consent and held his hands up whilst the
man carried out his search.
"Two wands?" he asked curiously.
"You never know when you may need a spare," Harry
returned.
He had taken to carrying the elder wand with him along
with his own and had used it a handful of times.
In truth, it worked no better than the one he already had,
though he could not deny the difference in the feel of the
magic.
The elder wand was as cold as the cloak and stone, but it
didn't seem to better his magical performance, not that
Harry could notice.
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The auror nodded thoughtfully as he gestured for Harry to
pass him and enter the office.
Releasing a deep breath, Harry did so to be greeted by
quite a giddy Minister Fawley who almost tore his arm
from how enthusiastically he shook his hands.
"Commander Evans, it really is good to see you again," the
man said sincerely.
Harry offered the man a bow.
"Your letter was quite insistent," he chuckled.
Fawley laughed and ushered Harry into a chair before
taking the one behind his desk.
"I left the invitation open, so you did not feel compelled to
rush," Fawley explained. "I understand that you have
earned a rest, but there are a few things I wished to discuss
with you."
"I got that impression, even if I did expect a slightly frosty
reception with the signs and everything."
Fawley laughed as he waved him off.
"On the contrary, I am pleased to see the public taking an
interest in politics again. I have been in the post for quite a
number of years now, but I have no desire to retain it for
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another tenure. No, in two years, I will step down and
another will take my place. I'm quite sure the post would be
made available to you if you so desired."
Harry shook his head emphatically.
"I don't see a future in politics for me," he said firmly. "No
offense to you, Minister, but I could think of nothing worse
than dealing with the Wizengamot and being sat behind a
desk."
Fawley chuckled amusedly.
"No, I don't suppose it would appeal to you," he mused
aloud. "It's a shame really. It would be quite interesting to
see what a man like you could do in this position. Anyway,
the future is only part of the reason I wished to see you. As
you can understand, I have been inundated with requests
from many influential people in Britain and beyond to see
that you are justly rewarded for your contribution in the
war. Even the Prime Minister himself was rather insistent
on it when I spoke to him last. He refused to provide
details, but it seems that you have remained in contact with
him," Fawley finished pointedly.
"He assisted me with something pertaining to France,"
Harry replied. "There was nothing untoward."
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"No, I didn't believe for a moment there was," Fawley
assured him. "Winston is fond of you, as is what seems to
be the entirety of wizarding Britain. As such, I have seen it
fit to approve the request to elevate your position."
"Elevate my position?" Harry asked cautiously.
Fawley nodded.
"The title is ceremonial for the most part," he assured
Harry. "You will receive a seat on the Wizengamot, but the
title itself would deem you a protector of Great Britain. It
sounds daunting, Commander Evans, I know, but there are
no formal responsibilities that you must fulfil."
Harry released a deep sigh.
It was evident that the man had already decided to bestow
this title on him.
"What about the others who played their part?" he
questioned.
Fawley smiled.
"I had suspected you would ask, and a monument is already
in the works to honour the dead. As for each man who
answered the call, they too will be recognised in the
ceremony with an award of their own. Lord Potter will
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receive an Order of Merlin First Class for his triumph over
Hans Gaulitier. Quite the achievement."
Harry nodded his approval.
"May I recommend others who I feel should be
recognised?"
"Of course," Fawley complied enthusiastically. "You led
these men, and if you believe they deserve merit, it shall be
given."
"The first would be for Arcturus Black," Harry began.
"During an attack in France, he defended his men who
were out of their depths from werewolves and erumpents.
Someone else received the credit for his efforts, and that
should be rectified."
Fawley nodded his agreement as he made a note on a fresh
piece of parchment.
"Throughout the war, he has been pivotal in our success,
putting his life on the line several times to keep others
safe."
"I never would have believed a Black would be so selfless,"
Fawley snorted. "It is not a trait they are associated with."
"Arcturus is different," Harry chuckled.
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Fawley hummed as he finished taking notes.
"The second would be for Reginald Yaxley."
"A Yaxley?" Fawley asked, his eyebrows almost vanishing
into his hairline.
"Reg has been Charlus's second in command and has
earned the respect of our men. He has personally infiltrated
hostile environments many times to provide me and the
other commanders with much-needed intelligence. He's
proven to be a great man and deserves credit."
Fawley's expression of surprise remained as he wrote.
"Anyone else?"
"Derek Gilbert," Harry supplied. "He worked with Reg on
the espionage side of things and has proven to be an
invaluable asset. Without them both, we wouldn't be where
we are now."
"Gilbert," Fawley mumbled to himself as he frowned
deeply. "Is he not a former inmate of Azkaban? I vaguely
remember the name, and not in a good way."
Harry nodded.
"He has caused more than his fair share of trouble," he
admitted, "but he has more than redeemed himself. Even
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when he received the notification that his sentence was
completed, he remained behind to finish the war. I cannot
emphasise how much the man has changed, Minister. He
deserves to be recognised just as much as the others."
Fawley deflated as he took note of what Harry had said.
"I will take your word for it, Commander Evans," he
sighed. "Anyone else?"
"Do we give awards to those from other countries?"
"It is not common," Fawley answered thoughtfully, "but
this war was certainly an exceptional circumstance."
"Then I'd like to nominate Petr Sokolov."
"A Russian? I'm not so sure that would be greatly received."
"Why?"
Fawley released a deep breath as he laid his quill down.
"What is your historical knowledge of the relationship
between the ICW and Russia?"
Harry shrugged.
"Not good."
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"I thought as much," Fawley murmured. "The Russians are
a power unto themselves and when they applied to join the
ICW some two centuries ago, they were denied because
their ethics and ethos did not tie in with those of the
members at the time. The Russians were very open about
how they treated their prisoners, the way their education
system was run, and their views on blacklisting certain
magical practices. They were not willing to negotiate on
these matters and the ICW all but turned their back on
them."
"The Russians were offended?"
"Yes, but it runs deeper than simple offense given," Fawley
huffed. "Russia is not such a rich country, and they put
their pride aside and came to the ICW for help. When it
was denied, it created a very frosty atmosphere between the
two entities. Russia continued on as it had and did some
rather questionable things in the process by absorbing
smaller ICW countries into its territory to coincide with
the lands their muggle counterparts had taken."
"I see," Harry acknowledged.
"We were on the brink of war with the Russians when
Germany decided it wished to follow a similar path.
Instead of confronting the enemy that had grown so bold
over so long, the ICW chose to confront Germany first.
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After that, everything seemed to die down until
Grindelwald emerged and the Russians shocked everyone
by aligning with the ICW."
Harry could only shake his head.
Perhaps he should have looked into the matter sooner.
"What will happen now?" he asked.
Fawley shrugged.
"It is difficult to tell," he answered honestly. "What has
happened could improve relations, or it could reignite the
enmity between them. At this point, it is anyone's guess."
Harry hoped that didn't happen.
He had made many friends within the Russian ranks, and
he didn't think he could bring himself to fight against
them.
"What about Britain's personal relationship with Russia?"
he asked.
"There isn't much of one to speak of," Fawley replied. "We
have had very little to do with one another."
"Then it shouldn't be an issue rewarding a man who
deserves it," Harry pointed out. "Petr is the son of the
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Russian Minister, and it could go some way to establishing
a positive relationship with them."
Fawley grinned as he nodded.
"That is true," he conceded. "I will see what I can do."
"Thank you," Harry offered sincerely.
"You're very welcome," Fawley replied with a kind smile,
"and thank you for everything you have done, Commander
Evans. It warms my heart to see such gumption from our
country when it is needed. Now, allow me to explain your
new title. Worry not, the ceremony won't be held for some
time yet."
Harry shook his head.
The meeting with the Minister had not gone how he had
imagined, but it certainly could have been worse than
receiving a formal title of sorts.
With a shudder, he remembered all of those that
Dumbledore had been given, and he hoped that he would
not find himself in such positions.
Not that he would accept them, though he could not help
but imagine himself as an old man with a long white beard
and dealing with future Ministers and their buffoonery.
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He snorted to himself.
Harry was certainly not as genial and patient as the
Dumbledore he had known, and any who attempted to use
him in such a way would find that out for themselves.
(Break)
Legally speaking, Tom should not have apparated here, but
according to Rosier whom he was in regular contact with,
the aurors rarely checked if anyone had a licence, and the
fine was only a few sickles if caught.
For Tom, the risk was worth it, and he had arrived in Little
Hangelton a few hours prior.
The village was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of
London, almost as though he had stepped back in time a
few decades, but there was something charming about the
place, and Tom could see why his ancestors had chosen to
settle here.
Finding the Gaunt home had not been particularly
difficult, but upon arriving, he felt himself filled with fury
as he sensed a familiar presence around the shack he had
spied through the gap in a hedge.
At first, he thought that he may have been merely
experiencing the magic protections placed by his family, but
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no.
The magic was quite similar to how his own felt, though
the differences were undeniable and exactly the same as
what he had faced in the chamber.
Evans had been here.
Tom knew not why or what protections had been placed,
but he knew that he did not wish to trigger them.
He did not fear Evans, the man did not even hail from the
Slytherin line, and his inferior magic would not deter him
under any other circumstances, but Tom did not wish to
draw attention to himself.
Vowing that he would come back when it suited him, he
returned to the village and entered the shop to quench his
thirst when he overheard the mention of a name that made
him freeze.
Riddle.
"Are you well, young man, you look as though you have
seen a ghost?" the lady behind the counter asked.
Tom said nothing as he placed the muggle coin in front of
her and took his leave, flitting between emotions as he
walked aimlessly down the main street of the village.
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Surely it could not be a coincidence that a family sharing
his name lived so closely to the Gaunts?
Riddle.
That was the name his mother had given him instead of
her own, named after the father that had abandoned them
both whilst she carried him.
Tom shook his head.
This was no coincidence at all, and once more, he felt his
anger pulsing through his veins.
With all thoughts of Evans having left his mind, he headed
towards the shop once more where he garnered the
attention of the old lady.
"I'm looking for the Riddle family," he explained.
"Are you a relative?" the woman asked. "I must say, you do
share quite the resemblance to the men of the family."
"A cousin," Tom answered through a strained smile. "I'm
here to visit them."
The old lady offered him a smile.
"Well, if you head towards the end of the street and look
towards the hills, you will see their manor. It is the only
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one in the area," she informed him. "Do tell Tom I said
hello. He comes here quite often."
Tom nodded as he discreetly drew his wand and looked
around to ensure no one else was here.
"Obliviate!"
The woman's expression went blank before she turned and
busied herself sorting through newspapers, no longer aware
that he was there.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Tom left the shop once more and
headed in the indicated direction, his anger flaring as he
took in the sight of the enormous house on the hill.
He had been forced to grow up in an orphanage, and his
father had simply returned back to his affluent life after
abandoning his mother.
Not that she was any better.
The weakling had died, and Tom had endured years of
misery because of two useless parents.
The fact that his father still breathed offended him,
something that had to change.
For everything Tom had endured, his father would suffer
equally.
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Flaring his nostrils, he approached the house and concealed
himself in one of the pruned hedges until darkness fell.
With Tom lost so deeply in his thoughts and desire for
revenge, the hours passed quickly, and when he was certain
he would not be seen, he headed towards one of the only
illuminated windows on the ground floor.
Gathered around a large dining table were three people,
and Tom could see why the woman believed him to be a
relative.
Looking at the younger of the two men, they were identical
in appearance, something that only fuelled Tom's already
boiling rage.
No one was like him in any capacity, not this stranger and
not Harry Evans.
He watched as the trio ate and laughed amongst
themselves, unaware of the inner turmoil of the teen
looking in.
Tom knew that logically there should be a part of him that
longed for what the Riddle family had, but he felt nothing
but resentment towards them, and the fact that he shared
their name sickened him to his very core.
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"Oi! What do you think you are doing?" a voice questioned
loudly.
So focused on watching the family, Tom had not heard the
approaching and muggle, and as he turned he found
himself staring down two barrels of a gun.
Immediately, he felt himself filled with fear, the thought
that simple squeeze of the man's finger resting on the
trigger could spell his demise.
"MR RIDDLE?" the man called loudly.
Tom chanced a glance through the window to see the older
of the men leaving the table, and he carefully slid his wand
into his hand.
"Imperio!" he cried, pointing it towards the man who had
caught him so unaware.
Once more, this was a spell that Tom had not cast on
another, but the muggle's mind fell easily under his control.
"Frank?" another voice called. "Frank, where are you?"
"Tell him it was a false alarm," Tom commanded in a
whisper.
The man said nothing or gave no indication he had heard
him, but walked towards the front of the house, and Tom
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cast a disillusionment charm on himself before following.
"Sorry Mr Riddle, I thought I saw someone in the bushes,"
Frank offered apologetically.
Riddle gave the man an understanding smile.
"It's alright, Frank," he soothed. "You're safe here. No
German war camp, and no enemies."
Frank nodded mutely.
"Get some rest," Riddle Senior urged as he headed back
towards the house.
That smile, it caused Tom's rage to flare once more.
"Kill him!" he whispered harshly. "Kill them all!"
Without hesitation, Frank levelled his gun towards his
employer and pulled the trigger, the sound of the shot
echoing across the village below.
Mr Riddle collapsed to the ground with half of his head
missing and Frank stepped over his body, encountering his
wife as she reached the door to investigate just what was
happening.
Her scream at the sight of her dead husband was cut off as
Frank discharged another shell, this one catching his victim
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in the chest.
He didn't pause and entered the house and Tom heard a
commotion within as he remained outside, rooted to the
spot by what was happening.
Another shot sounded, pulling him from his thoughts and
he entered the house to find Frank in the dining room,
covered in blood and staring blankly ahead.
Tom swallowed deeply at the sight of his father's mangled
corpse, but it wasn't a sense of sadness he felt.
No, it was a rush satisfaction mingled with a little
excitement.
"Kill yourself, Frank," he said, his S carrying a drawn-out
sibilance.
Once more, the man complied, and Tom took a moment to
enjoy the demise of his muggle family knowing that none
would be the wiser.
They would merely assume that Frank had murdered them
before turning his gun on himself, and as Tom took his
leave of Riddle Manor, he did so, feeling happier than he
ever had in his life knowing that he had exacted some
vengeance on those that had abandoned him.
(Break)
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Albus had spent many days here in the company of Gellert
as they plotted what would eventually be the cause of his
friend's downfall. They had been gifted boys, both
intelligent and possessing magical talent in abundance, but
oh so naïve.
They had felt invincible, neither able to fathom anyone
being able to stop them as they set about implementing
their grand plan; a world in which witches and wizards
need not hide what they were.
Albus released a deep breath as he shook his head.
It had begun in Godric's Hollow, and their shared dream
had ended here so many years ago.
Now, Gellert was dead, his dream having come to nothing
but violence, death, and destruction.
The world was better for his death, of that Albus had no
doubt, but he wasn't, and though he knew he was
wallowing, it was not something he could.
It would take time to move past the misery if he ever truly
could.
No, it would never pass, but as he had with the death of
Ariana and his mother, he would grow accustomed to
carrying the burden.
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Gellert had never outgrown his foolishness, and it had
always been his nature to focus on something so intently
that he became blind to everything else.
Albus didn't blame Harry for what had happened, and he
didn't blame Gellert either.
It was Albus that shouldered much of the blame of what
had come to pass.
He knew Harry well enough to know that he would not
hesitate to kill his former friend, and he knew that Gellert
would never concede defeat.
It simply wasn't in his nature to do so.
Could Albus have intervened and prevented the bloodshed
and death that resulted from the war.
Perhaps he could have, and maybe he should have done so
when he first heard whispers of Gellert's re-emergence on
the continent.
Instead, Albus had tried to pretend nothing was amiss, a
decision he regretted deeply.
He could have stopped Gellert back then, by force if
necessary but in a way that would have seen the man live.
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"Such a waste," he murmured as he placed the flowers he
had brought on Ariana's grave. "I suppose that it is all over.
The past has finally been put to rest."
Ariana could rest easy now, Abe could live the rest of his
life knowing that Gellert had been killed, and Albus would
do the same, though without the same glee his brother
would feel.
Despite everything Gellert had done, it was not so easy for
Albus to simply switch off his feelings for the man.
He would mourn him, mourn the memories they had
shared, and the boy that Gellert had once been.
The world would remember the monster, but not Albus.
He would remember his friend, his equal, the one who had
taken his heart with him as he departed this life and began
his next great adventure.
(Break)
"If you don't stop fidgeting, I swear I will curse you!" Poppy
huffed.
Minerva gave her friend a wry smile.
With how on edge she felt, she was struggling to sit still.
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Harry had barely been home a couple of weeks, and already,
they had managed to pull off a wedding together. Well,
Harry had.
After a discreet visit to Diagon Alley, he had arranged for a
cake to be made, decorations to be delivered, and even
secured a dressmaker who had arrived the same day to
measure Minerva and begin working on her gown.
It had been finished only this morning and dropped off at
the house.
As they had with Rosa's birthday, they had decided to keep
the wedding an intimate affair with only their closest
friends and relatives attending.
They were even holding the ceremony at the house that
would be conducted by her father with the help of Rosalina
to complete the magical aspects.
"Sorry," Minerva said sheepishly. "I'm just nervous."
"Nervous?" Poppy scoffed. "Harry is lucky to have you. It's
not like he could do any better."
"She's not wrong," Augusta piped up. "How did he handle
the offers of marriage in the end?"
"He burnt them," Minerva answered with a smirk. "In his
own words, he already has two difficult women in his life,
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and he doesn't need any more."
Poppy and Augusta laughed.
"He wouldn't have it any other way," the latter sighed. "He's
a glutton for punishment is our Harry."
"I'm not that bad," Minerva grumbled as Poppy finished
fixing her hair.
"There, all done," the woman declared. "Where is your
mother?"
"Calming down my father," Minerva said amusedly. "He's a
bag of nerves."
"Imagine how bad Harry will be when Rosa decides to get
married," Augusta snorted. "That will take some man to
measure up to her father."
Minerva shook her head.
She didn't even want to consider that right now. Rosa was
only two and had many years before such a thing would
become a reality.
"How is Harry coping with being home?" Poppy asked.
Minerva deflated slightly.
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"He still doesn't sleep much, but he never did really," she
replied. "He spends so much time with me and Rosa. It's
like he's trying to make up for being away so much, and
when he's not with us, he's in the basement."
"The basement?"
"He has created a training area down there," Minerva
explained.
Poppy shook her head.
"Same old Harry then."
"For the most part," Minerva agreed, turning towards the
door to her bedroom as it opened.
"It's time," her mother declared, her expression softening as
she took in the sight of her daughter. "You look wonderful,
Minerva."
"Thank you," Minerva replied shyly as she stood. "Where's
Rosa?"
"With Harry," Isobel huffed. "I had to drag him and the
rest of the men in from the Quidditch pitch. Your daughter
is as crazy as the pair of you on your brooms."
"Just be grateful she's still on her training one," Minerva
returned. "Harry is trying to get the Nimbus lot to make
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another for her."
Isobel looked horrified by the thought, but she didn't
comment further.
"Come along, everyone is waiting now," she urged.
With Poppy and Augusta in tow, Minerva followed her
mother through the house and into the grounds where a
marquee had been set up for the event.
In all, around thirty people had been invited, something
that Harry had been insistent on, as well as keeping the
knowledge of the ceremony between only those they
trusted.
Minerva took a deep breath as they reached the structure,
her stomach turning somersaults as the band struck up the
music to announce her entrance.
Arm in arm with her mother, she entered, keeping her eyes
ahead to where Harry was standing next to her father with
Rosa clinging on to his hands.
Minerva noticed the girl's dress was quite filthy near the
knees, but her own smile didn't waver as she took in her
daughter's own and Harry's sheepish grin.
"Was it too much to ask to keep her clean?" she whispered
amusedly as she reached them.
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Harry's grin only widened.
"You try saying no to her."
"I do, Harry," Minerva murmured. "She's got you wrapped
around her little finger."
Harry hummed.
"She's just like her mother then."
The simple, offhand comment warmed Minerva, and as
she took her place opposite Harry, it was to the realisation
that this was everything she had ever wanted.
She barely took in the words of her father as he spoke as
she played over the journey she had shared with Harry in
her mind.
From the night he had arrived and found her in a state of
undress, to the final years of school and him leaving to
become a Hit-Wizard, only for him to do so when war
broke out.
All of it, the good and the bad had led to this moment, and
despite everything they had been through, she wouldn't
change any of it if it meant she did not end up here.
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(Break)
"Doesn't she look beautiful," Angelica gushed as Minerva
passed them heading towards the alter.
"Too good for a prat like Harry," Charlus chuckled,
receiving an elbow in the side from both his mother and
Dorea who had accompanied them.
"Some would say I'm too good for you," the latter
commented.
"They would be right," Charlus replied.
Dorea blushed as she narrowed her eyes at the man, the
urge to elbow him again, as he smiled smugly difficult to
ignore.
(Break)
"I do hope you still plan on giving me another wedding,
Arcturus," Melania whispered.
Arcturus nodded as he bounced Cygnus on his knee.
Orion had been quite a content and quiet baby, but his
younger sibling couldn't be more different.
"You can have any wedding you wish," he replied. "I owe
you that much at least."
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Melania nodded her agreement as she pulled Cygnus on to
her lap to stop him fussing.
"I'll hold you to that, Arcturus Black," she warned.
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
(Break)
Derek felt completely out of place surrounded by such
finery and well thought of people. His dress robes that
Sorina insisted he wore were chafing and he couldn't help
but fidget in his seat, much to the amusement of the
Romanian woman.
"It's not so bad," she soothed. "It will be over soon
enough."
Derek smiled.
This was the first time he had returned to Britain since
Grindelwald had been defeated, and as much as he missed
parts of it, there was nothing that could draw him away
from Sorina and Iulia.
He had tried to leave a few times, fearing that he was
imposing, but Sorina would hear nothing of it, and Iulia
would cry whenever he mentioned doing so.
As such, he had stayed with them.
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It had been a little over two weeks, but Derek had loved
every moment of it, though he couldn't help but think what
he would do when the time came that he had to leave.
He couldn't imagine his life without the two of them,
merely the thought making his heart clench.
"Stop it," Sorina whispered.
"Stop what?"
"You know what, Derek," she chastised. "I can see what
you are thinking."
Derek could only shake his head in response.
The woman knew him too well and had not relented until
he had told her what had been playing on his mind since
the war ended.
Perhaps he should have simply returned to Britain, but he
could not bring himself to do that, not without saying
goodbye at least.
Goodbye had turned into dinner, and that in turn had led
to it being too late for him to travel.
Derek had spent the night and had been roped into being
Iulia's pony.
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When he had tried to say goodbye again, the girl had been
beside herself and refused to stop crying only if he agreed
to stay a little longer.
It had been two weeks now, and yet, the goodbye still
hadn't been uttered.
"Do we need to have another conversation when we get
home?" Sorina asked.
"Home?" Derek replied confusedly.
Sorina tutted and muttered under her breath in her native
tongue.
"Does it not feel like your home when you are with us?"
Derek swallowed deeply as he nodded.
"Yes," he answered simply.
Sorina simply took his hand in her own and looked towards
the unfolding ceremony, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Don't forget it, Derek Gilbert," she whispered. "You don't
get to just walk away from us."
Iulia was looking up at them curiously from her seat next to
him where she had chosen to sit and shot Derek a bright
smile as he met her gaze.
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Without thought, he wrapped his free arm around the girl
who melted into his side, snuggling against him in a
gesture that meant more to the man than he could ever put
into words.
(Break)
Nothing more than a shared glance between Nicholas and
Perenelle was needed to convey what they wished to. They
had watched Harry grow from a lost boy into a man that
both were so proud of, and to be sharing this moment with
him, Minerva, and Rosa was more than they could have
asked for.
If anyone deserved happiness, it was them, and as Nicholas
looked around the marquee he found himself seated in, he
knew he had made the right decision all those years ago to
help Harry.
From the moment he had met the boy, there was
something about him, and Harry had risen beyond the
alchemist's expectations.
Today, however, was not about what the young man had
achieved in his young life, but what the future held for him,
and seeing the smile that graced his lips as he spoke his
vows, Nicholas knew that whatever path Harry chose to
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tread, he would do so with a woman that loved him by his
side.
(Break)
It was quite surreal to find himself here. Being at war and
having endured everything he had, it had been hard to
imagine that he might just make it at all, yet, here he was.
He had survived where many others would have fallen, and
as Rosalina finished wrapping his and Minerva's clasped
hands with a final golden thread, he allowed himself a
moment to simply revel in the happiness he felt.
For the first time in his life, he had a family to call his own,
a dream he had dreamt of as a young boy finally having
come to pass.
To Harry, this was what mattered more than anything else,
more than any accolade that could be bestowed upon, more
than any amount of gold that could fill his vault.
This was the most precious thing in the world to him, and
he would treasure it for what it was.
(Break)
Cassiopeia looked up at the stone tower, the final vestige of
everything Gellert had tried to achieve. She remembered
being in awe at his brilliance when she had visited the
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finished prison, a feat that no other single person would
have been capable of.
She couldn't be certain how long ago it was that Gellert
had been killed, but every moment of every day, she
watched him being slaughtered again and again.
It happened when she did not focus on keeping her
thoughts away from it, and every time she closed her eyes.
There was no escape, no reprieve from the grief she felt.
It festered within her, and the more she drifted, the more
Cassiopeia lost touch with what was real and what she was
seeing in her mind.
Nurmengard was real.
She could reach out and touch the smooth stone Gellert
had used to construct it, but she couldn't say the same
about everything else she could see.
Cassiopeia shook her head as Gellert's final expression of
defeat flashed in front of her, and she watched once more
as he keeled over, the hole in his chest so much like her
own emptiness she felt.
Why the ICW was not here yet, she couldn't be certain, but
Cassiopeia was tired, so tired of the heartache, so tired of
the drifting.
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Comments (10)
She wanted to rest for a moment, and she could think of no
better place than here.
If only the voices she heard would fall silent, perhaps she
could.
Still, she was too tired to do anything more than slide
down the stone wall and look up briefly at the sea of faces
that watched her.
She recognised none of them, but she smiled, her cracked
lips pulling tightly.
"Kill me," she whispered.
Her voice was hoarse, and her throat was parched, but her
smile remained as someone pointed a wand at her and a
flash of red light granted her the peace she sought.
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Thanks for another fantastic chapter with many
heartwarming moments
I was more than half-expecting Cassiopeia to be a wedding
crasher, so the ending scene was rather unexpected.
another great chapter, brilliant
Great chapter. when is the next chapter coming out?
was that a stunner
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I was glad to see him suggesting others who deserved
recognition. Thanks for the chapter!
I don't think Cassie is dead, was that a stunner?
And I really wanna see some more interaction between
Gilbert and Sorina!
I know it's all winding up, but I keep feeling like there's
just something right around the corner - I've just gotten
used to it, I'm afraid.
Looking forward to when Harry puts down Tom like the
rabid dog he is
Outstanding chapter. Thank you, author,
Stupid 2 months ago · 0 Likes
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Author/Site Owner: Lee : TheBlack'sResurgence
Email: (For all enquiries)
When the Roses Bloom Again - In Bloom
When the Roses Bloom
Again - Home
Great chapter.
Can't wait for the next one
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