Chapter 5: The Bond

Trigger Warning: You may encounter some information that might affect you personally. I do not mean any harm or disrespect when I was creating this update. And for that, I want to say sorry in advance if I made you uncomfortable. Lastly, pardon me if I might have missed some grammatical errors and misspelled words.

A/N at the end!

November 1, 1981, Villa Immergrün
10:13 a.m.

A collection of distinct thudding of books reshelving is heard around the cathedral-like interior library of Villa Immergrün.

In her fading blue velvet robes, an old widowed woman, Lyra Greengrasss, has been shuffling around in her library collecting books and texts that may help Stephen's niece's current situation.

With his Hermione bonded to Harry Potter, they both know that it is vital to begin understanding what they're entering into and to figure out what to expect and the precautions with regard to soulbonds. Because neither her nor Stephen have ever tackled this concept in their early days, both thinking that it was a mere children's story. A fantasy.

Basically, Lyra's only knowledge in soulbonds is that they are sacred and a blessing from Her Magic, other than that, she knows nothing. 'I guess there's more to Magic than meets the eye.'

Another matter has also been plaguing her mind. Harry Potter. For some unknown reasons was the Dark Lord's prime target yesterday night... Whatever his motives were, it failed terribly which caused his defeat, and for Lily to sacrifice herself.

Thinking about the boy now somehow makes her itch. There has to be something surrounding the Potter Heir and the Dark Lord case. Like a missing piece of a puzzle. Nevertheless, she mentally filed the issue and went on finding the last book she's looking for.

Once she found the last book that pertains to dreams and soulbonds, she turned, and with grace, she walked through her maze-like library— her robes making rustling sounds— towards where the natural light streams down like a spotlight on Stephen as he occupies the desk under a circular glass roof.

"Their connection somehow activated through the dreams," she mumbled to herself, "Did Hermione ever mention dreaming about Harry or the Potters in general, to anyone? To you?" Lyra asked aloud as she gently flips the pages of the book she's currently holding.

Stephen looked up from the book he's reading— The Unseen Links by Raina Virhank— brows furrowing as he tries recalling all of his conversations with Hermione, "I don't... remember her telling me about having peculiar dreams. Nor the others approaching me about such things," he replied to her shaking his head, "Why? Have you found anything?"

"Yes," she answered simply, before comfortably sitting on the seat opposite to him, "'Dreaming is a conduit of emotions where a person unconsciously manifests specific objects, events, or even a person, to interpret meanings. What your heart desire is a great example of this. Your desires could reflect in your dreams using vague images that may hold meanings. For instance, if you desire a specific object to have—for example, money— the dream may conjure it for you as if convincing you that you'll have that amount of money but then, the money you desire was burned— this dream doesn't mean you won't achieve your desires per se but to reflect your tumultuous personal emotions, loss of mental peace, or being overwhelmed by strong feelings surrounding your most desire.

This signifies that whatever you were dreaming, has a relation to what your inner emotions are conveying.

However, in terms of soulbonds—since dreaming is a conduit of images that conveys your emotions—when fused with intuition, dreams can become a vision. The soul's "intuitive" powers can detect any disturbances: ranging from low to alarming ones, from their other half's essence. Therefore, if one of the soul experiences a life-threatening event, it activates a connection between two souls.

This stage is called, 'coagmentatio,' meaning 'joining together' in Latin. The first formation of soul threads.'"

As Lyra reads a portion from the book she was holding, Stephen sat across from her listening intently as he contemplates how immense could a one-year-old child imparts such emotions to trigger a connection with Hermione or the bond in general.

Lyra was still reading when Stephen returned his attention to her lilting voice, "'When one-half of the bond experiences a highly traumatic event, their soul's "intuitive power" echoes through the invisible thread connecting to their other half, reaching out communicating as if looking for comfort. Whatever the soul's encountering, it is then projected as visions in their counterpart's dream. Additionally, as it is an intense emotion being imparted, the one receiving it could cause or experience an external magical backlash on their part."

The woman stopped her reading at that point. She chewed her lower lip worriedly, re-reading the paragraphs again, this time silently.

The book, As One: Threads of Magical Soul Bond by Xander and Sandra Moone, also mentioned that there were very few recorded couples that are soul bonded. Upon interviewing these couples, they were able to recognize the similarities of how bonds were formed. The majority of them explained that the first incident they've encountered before recognizing its a soulbond was that between the couple, one had felt some kind of a thread or string within them trying to reach out when they were confronted by a near-death situation. The Moones also noticed that the male population usually experiences these life-threatening experiences, while the females act as recipients. When they asked these recipients about their experiences with the initial formation of the bond, they grimly recounted the powerful release of magical energy, from within, while sleeping. They also strongly pointed out that it's worst if reciprocated once the bond is at its strongest.

"What do they mean reciprocated?" Lyra asked aloud.

Stephen opened his eyes, returning from his Mind Palace, "What do you mean reciprocated?"

"One out of the four soul bonded couples that the Moones interviewed, mentioned that the male in the bond may experience much worse magical backlash if the female is on the verge of death. Apparently, this only happens when the bond has been completed and at its strongest."

"That's... worrying..." Stephen began, frowning as he stares at the book Lyra is holding. "Does it mention anything more? Perhaps about not meeting their soulmates?"

Lyra looked at him bewildered, wondering why he skipped the other phases/stages of the bond formation. Shrugging, she turned her attention back on the book in front of her. When she reached the last paragraph of the chapter, she slowly frowned.

"Well?"

"'There were also mysterious cases where certain people die at the same time, age, and date for no apparent reason. Those who know them personally especially their own kins reported that they never heard nor there was any mention of them having terrible illnesses that may result in sudden death.

An example of this was the famous seventeen-year-old Quidditch player, Norman Chevign, First Youngest Keeper of Ballycastle Bats. His death was reported as the most peculiar death because it happened in the middle of the 9th of August, 1656 during the Quidditch World Cup, between Wales and Irish teams. At exactly 8:45 p.m that same date, an inspector saw Norman falling from his broom quite unexpectedly. Witnesses say that they never noticed someone casting a spell or a bludger coming his way to knock him off from his broom. After several moments of checking on the player, the whole stadium was astounded when they received the news that he's dead.

Another death has also reached the local papers, this time in Russia. The daughter of Lazar Morozov, Head of the Noble House of Morozov in Magical Russia, was also reported dead at the same exact time, date, and age as Norman Chevign.

Researchers deduced that among these deaths, there's a distinct relevance with the number 17—" Lyra stopped midsentence as she rapidly scans the rest of the page where the Moones listed all of the recorded cases of unusual deaths, and upon her assessment, the number 17 really does held significance here.

Below the passage that she read a while ago, was a chart, summarizing all of the deaths from centuries ago and decades later. She also noticed that soulmates were marked every 17 years upon their birth, and die at age 17 when they failed to bond with their counterparts.

It was so detailed that Lyra began feeling her face losing its blood. She felt chills ran down her spine as she mentally does the math in her mind while perusing the chart repeatedly in front of her. At first, she wanted it to sound like a coincidental death but the more she appraise it, the lesser it becomes coincidental. The numerical data they've provided has a long list of failed soulbonds, compared to the ones who were successful.

'This is overwhelmingly unsettling,' Lyra thought to herself. 'Stephen wouldn't like this,' she mentally sighed.

Lyra suddenly snapped the book soundly. Promptly grabbed her pen and scribbled furiously onto the parchment in front of her. "On what year was Hermione born?"

Stephen, who has been observing quietly opposite her, replied, "1979," Not daring to disturb her, he watched as she began writing some mathematical formula.

"How about Harry Potter? Do you know?"

"1980." He simply replied, slowly becoming impatient.

"Huh." Were Lyra's only word. "This doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"It says in the book, that every 17 years, chosen souls are marked for soul-bonding to become soulmates. However, in the numerical data provided here, I've noticed that these couples were born the same year." She explained as she flipped to the page where the data was written, and slid it across the table towards Stephen, "What I found out was that, Hermione's birth year marks another 17th year where souls are chosen for soul-bonding. It doesn't make sense because Harry Potter, who was born in 1980, was instead chosen for Hermione."

There was a tense silence between them, as they contemplate this information.

Never in her years as an Unspeakable here in Magical Germany has she ever encountered such complex magic and at the same time complicated subject. Why she never delved deeper into this topic, was a mystery to her.

Lyra stopped her incessant tapping on the table when the thing that has been plaguing in her mind a while ago suddenly made itself known again.

"It has to do something with the Potter child. I just know it."

Stephen sighed heavily, dropping the book on the table with a loud thud. The pair lapsed again in silence for about ten minutes, when Stephen stood up unexpectedly making Lyra jump on her seat, hand over her chest while staring wide-eyed at the man in front of her, "Jesus fucking Christ. Stephen! What in Merlin's name are you..." she trailed off when she noticed Stephen's expression.

"Are you okay? What is it?"

"Prophecy." Lyra had to lean forward a bit to hear what he said, cause if she didn't she wouldn't be able to find the missing piece that has been plaguing her mind.

"Stephen, you do know that not all prophecies are—"

"No, I'm talking about the Sacred ones, Lyra. What if somehow, Her Supremeness, gave way for this to happen. I mean," he paused then began pacing on the other side of the table, letting out a disbelieving laugh, "Lily Potter did manage to gain Her expectations and even showed up in her home! And Hermione! She's the very first magical from the line of Elton Pendragon."

'What if a Prophecy made Voldemort attack the Potters that night? Thinking that it was a Sacred one?' Lyra thought but sharply affixed her eyes at Stephen's direction.

"You mean, the bastard son of Uther and step-brother of Arthur?!" she exclaimed, this time joining Stephen from pacing.

"Magic is very complex and intricate. Even as a Sorcerer Supreme, I still find magic tricky to control. It seemingly has a life of its own. Has its own choices. Alive." Stephen began mumbling nonsense to himself. "Did the book ever mention anything about a family tapestry glowing gold?"

Lyra on the other hand, oblivious to what Stephen was murmuring, became lost in her own thoughts, 'Elton Pendragon?! First magical? And to make matters complicated, an heir to the Ancient and Noble House! This is too much information for one day but still... What the hell? I seriously have to make plans, aligning my two families to the right people. Dirk's great-grandson is very smart and ambitious. Lining the Greengrass with Novis House would gain them prestige. Of course, true friendship must form between two houses and their eldest daughter would be perfect for the role... Yes, that's perfect.'

"Lyra."

Lyra was snapped from her reverie when Stephen called her, "sorry what was it again?"

"The Moones," Stephen gestured at the book, "did they mention anything in regards to family tapestries glowing gold? Like the one I've shown you?"

Lyra shook her head in negative. "We haven't even finished the whole book, Steve. But bow that you've mentioned about the family tapestry, I doubt the Moones were able to search about it."

"Still we mustn't take our chances. This single information may help us with Hermione's and the Potter heir's situation."

Lyra nodded her understanding. "We can't figure this out in just one day, Steve. It might take months or years to gather more information about this subject. There is a reason why it's restricted, Steve. There are also matters of how we'll help her if the connection made itself known again in both children. We need to formulate plans to help them, or in this case, Hermione first. Unless you have plans on telling the Potters about this as soon as possible?" Lyra finally said.

"Not at all. I'm thinking of maybe five years from now or so." The greying man paused, shrugging. "I don't know for sure."

"Right. We must still collect all knowledge we could from soulbonds, and even though some particulars might not fit with Hermione and the Potter heir's current issue, we should still obtain some valuable insights about the bond formation..."

Stephen noticed that Lyra appeared hesitating to say something, "What is it?"

Lyra began warily, "There's also something written in the book... that if the marked souls were able to connect initially on the first stage but unwilling to complete the bond, their magical core may fluctuate dramatically, and..."

Knowing the man in front of her, she knew that he prefers the direct approach, hence, she summoned all of her courage before giving him what she figured out about the significance of the number 17;

"If... the two children weren't an exception from what the book said, then as a precaution: Hermione and Harry's magical cores may experience this magical fluctuation.. and will die if they didn't finalize their bond on the 9th of August 1997, at exactly 8:45 night time."

"But Hermione will be seventeen that year, how can you..." Stephen trailed off when suddenly if he was hit by a train. "Fuck."

Lyra nodded solemnly at him and pushed the paper she'd written a while ago towards him. Written in the paper was enough to confirm his deductions,

'17 = VXII = VIXI - meaning "my life is over"'

November 1, 1981, Anmer Hall
9:53 a.m.

"What do you want, Hermione? Books, what books?"

"We could play cricket on the back lawn?"

"You want to paint? I could ask Angeline or Grant to bring us the supplies,"

"How bout tea parties? I know you miss us having there."

Jules and Nathan have been going on like this on each side of Hermione for twenty minutes. The girl elected on covering both of her ears, trying to muffle the twins' constant badgering to her.

The moment she woke up from her sleep, the twins were already in her room, watching her like hawks. When they noticed her awake, Nathan immediately stood up from his seat and went out of the room calling for Angeline. Jules on the other hand, was beside her in a flash asking her if she's okay and if she slept well last night.

"Yes Jules, I'm doing well," was her only reply to him. Fortunately, Angeline came in at the right moment because Hermione had a feeling Jules would be throwing her questions about her welfare. Among her brothers, Jules really is the most protective one, Nathan, on the other hand, is more easy-going but can also be firm with his emotions.

"How about watching an Opera? The Magic Flute?" Jules suggested, knowing that he and Hermione have almost similar preferences in regards to music.

"Yeah, I could join you both," Nathan agreed to her left.

"Boys, leave the little Princess alone. Let her have her peace and do what your father has left for you to work on." The unmistakable commanding voice of their mother was heard behind them, "I'll keep her company this time."

The twins grumbled under their breaths but stood to give their mother a chaste kiss on each of her cheeks.

"May I remind you both to not slack off?"

"Yes mother," they rolled their eyes at the same time.

"And I don't slack off, Nathan does that thing," Jules said, jerking his thumb toward his oblivious brother.

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

Madelaine caught Hermione rolling her eyes at her brothers' antics, as she listens to their conversation.

The twins continued throwing banters all the way to their combined study. Debating who slacks the most between the two of them.

Once the twin's voices faded away, shaking her head in amusement, Madelaine made her way to sit beside her only daughter and joined her in watching the nature in front of them.

After breakfast, Hermione immediately excused herself and left for the back veranda to have some time for herself. However, the twins were too worried about her welfare and decided on following her tracks. That's when Madelaine found them, sitting on the stairs, pestering the little girl.

Madelaine always thought that maybe her daughter wasn't meant to be normal. Even at the time when she was still pregnant with her daughter, she knew then and there that Hermione will be someone who's special. Someone who's remarkably unique. And it didn't disappoint her. Her maternal intuition undoubtedly gave her a clear message and when Hermione was born to this world, she had the strongest affection she'd ever felt meeting her for the first time. The urge to protect her princess, whatever the cost, was so immense that she fell into a crying mess in front of the tiny bundle she was carrying.

As her daughter grew up, Madelaine became more worried about how Hermione's peculiarity presented itself. Not that she abhors the little girl, no. It was how Hermione will take her peculiar characteristics, that worries her. Despite the assurances of her own intuition, she couldn't help but feel for her daughter. Hermione's appearance and status had already gained a lot of the public's attention, not only that but also her prodigious character.

Once she learned how to crawl and grab things, Hermione had particularly shown instant interest in books. She sometimes blames it on her in-laws, specifically the "old" twins, Stephen and Victor.

They'd always let her sit on their laps as they read her random books appropriate for her age; they even taught her how to pronounce words even though the little one barely pronounces it. Madelaine could still recall the very first word Hermione had said, smiling at the memory:

"Say, Maman," Madelaine told the little one as she spoon feeds her one-year-old daughter. "Maman."

Hermione's mauve pink colored eyes stared calmly at her mother. Her lips pouting as her mother persists in teaching her to say 'Maman.'

"Say Maman, little rose. Maman," Madelaine was basically almost begging for her to say it. Hermione though, continued staring at her mother, before she transferred her eyes on an open book behind her. Madelaine who was about to raise the spoon— with baby food— to her daughter's mouth noticed this and followed her line of sight.

Madelaine sighed audibly which made the little girl flinch at the sound, Hermione's eyes began watering, probably thinking that her mother's mad at her.

Alarmed, Madelaine immediately apologized and consoled her by wiping her mouth with a damp cloth. Placing down the small bowl and spoon on the small table beside her, she grabbed her daughter under her arms from her high chair and carried her to the couch where the book lays open.

"I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean too," she pleaded, as she looks down at her daughter's gorgeous eyes, "I know I shouldn't pressure you learning that word. I'm really sorry darling."

Hermione silently watched her mother talked, her lips pouting. However, this only helped Madelaine recognize that the little princess wanted her to read for her. "Do you want Maman to read for you?"

"Weid," Hermione nodded in happiness while pointing at the book beside her. "Weyid, Mama."

To say that she's proud was an understatement, Madelaine, whose face was stretched into a huge smile, beamed down at her daughter, and giggled when she heard her mispronunciation, "no little rose, you're saying it wrong. It's r-EE-d, not w-E-y-I-d."

The little girl's face scrunched into concentration as she copies her mother enunciate each syllable clearly, "rrrrRRRr-EEE-ddD."

Madelaine nodded enthusiastically coaxing her to try pronouncing the word again, "read."

"Reyd-uh."

"Read."

Hermione opened her mouth copying how her mother's lips move, "read." She finally said.

"Wonderful! Well done sweetheart!" Madelaine exclaimed, pride vibrating all over her existence, "you're truly brilliant little rose!" The little girl giggled, as her mother awards her with kisses all over her face. "Mama, read! Mama!"

Still feeling high with happiness for her bright daughter, the mother conceded to her wishes and proceeded on reading her the newly released book by Robert Munsch, The Paper Bag Princess.

The gentle breeze of the wind broke her reverie. Glancing down at her daughter, Madelaine figured that what Hermione needs right now is silence. She knows that her princess was probably thinking about the vision she had last night. So she gave the little girl the luxury to succumb in the presence of silence.

And well, to wait for her daughter to initiate their conversation...

"Mama?" Hermione softly called, her head turned slightly in her direction, but her eyes remained glued on the beautiful scene before her.

Anmer Hall's established within acres and acres of land. The Granger-Windsor-Novis families, especially the children, enjoy relishing their freedom in the extensive gardens of the estate. It has all kinds of activities that may entertain them, like cricket, soccer, and a tree fort with a swing and a slide. The garden is covered with perfectly mowed velvety green grass, trees that are uniformly maintained, and pretty little dandelions that are speckled here in there. Hermione specially insisted that the lovely dandelions be left alone as it is, and to never uproot them, "it's quite charming, Maman. I know they might affect their neighboring plants, but can't you see how visually pleasing they look in our big garden?"

Yet, despite her wishes, two of their staff that are gardeners tried explaining to Hermione that dandelions are considered weeds, and weeds should be uprooted or transferred to a more compatible and safer part of the lawn where it wouldn't hamper the growth of other plants especially the grass, and soil that the weed might choke. Hermione countered that most butterflies, bees, moths, and even birds get their food from them especially the seeds, and if they remove them, they'll be neglecting them from having their source of nourishment. It was really a very informative but heated debate that even the two gardeners— instead of feeling flustered or annoyed at Hermione— were having a lot of fun explaining to her the negative effects of dandelions on the lawn.

In the end, they've come up with a deal that Hermione's wishes for the dandelions will be transferred to a specific part of the lawn, which is under Hermione's favorite White Dogwood Tree.

"Hmm?"

"The world suddenly looked brighter, Mama. After what happened last night... the dream..." Hermione trailed off as she saw the determined emerald eyes of Lily Potter. She then recalled the last moments Lily Potter had done for her son before facing off the monster, her eyes softening as she took one last look at her son.

Speaking of the boy, Hermione fully turned herself so she's now facing her mother, "Mama, have you known the name of the boy?"

Madelaine who has been watching her silently gave her an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry darling, no one has ever figured it out yet. But your Uncle Stephen's investigating on it," she said reassuring her.

Hermione nodded in understanding and scooted closer to her mother so she's cuddling her, "I hope he'll be okay."

There was a moment of silence before Hermione blurted, "Mama, Angeline said I can do magic. Is it true? Was magic the reason I look different?"

Madelaine hugged her daughter tighter, knowing that her Hermione's too young to think about depressing thoughts, "Darling, whatever is in your mind right now, let it go. You're safe, and your family is here for you. We love everything about you.

"Your appearance or magic doesn't matter to me, I gave birth to you, and I'll do anything to make you feel loved and deserving. Same with your Dad, and brothers, and the others.

"You're my daughter and will always be. With title or none, with magic or none. You'll always be my delightful, amazing rose, ma chéri. So don't think negatively about it, okay? You're special, that's why you're different. It's not a bad thing to be different, Hermione. From time to time, the world needs something new, and I'm glad you're the one to provide beauty in it."

"Merci beaucoup, maman." (Thank you so much, Mama) Hermione said in a barely audible voice.

Madelaine heard anyway, so she responded by giving her a chaste kiss on her plump cheeks, "De rien, chéri." (You're welcome, sweetheart.)

The mother and daughter were still cuddling on the stairs of the back veranda when Angeline softly cleared her throat behind them to gain their attention. The young woman stood there carrying old-looking tomes that are an introductory guide for Hermione to read. They'll be tackling first in understanding the Wizarding World as a whole and their origins. Madelaine has also suggested that they also cover other cultures, such as France and Italy, and social norms. Angeline who made teaching her passion was more than glad to teach Hermione the magical world and to entertain any of her questions about it. She can obviously detect the girl's hunger for more knowledge.

After mentioning to Hermione the changes in their plans for the day, the girl had instantly grabbed Angeline to help her prepare. The girl was too ecstatic to calm down at the thought of learning something unfamiliar, but nonetheless new. "This is going to be an adventure, Angeline! Oh, comme c'est excitant!" (Oh how exciting!) The girl had exclaimed while Angeline braids her hair.

"Have you got them already, Angeline?" The dainty girl scrambled from her mother's lap, who in return laughed at her exuberance as she let her go. Angeline smirked and gave a little funny dance, showing off the book she's carrying. Hermione's eyes lit up with fierce passion, as Angeline turned the books upright, so she could read the fading titles on the spine.

Madelaine stood up from her position, dusting off her purple mauve palazzo, shaking her head at the still image before her, "You better take this lovely rose to the library, Angeline. If you don't remove that book in front of her she might stay there till she finishes all of them."

Angeline nodded in affirmation and gave Hermione one of the tomes since the little one began demanding that she carry one of it. Angeline and Madelaine smiled amusedly at how the large tome was. Almost tall as her and probably weighs more than her. (Thanks to Angeline's non-verbal magic, she made the book lightweight so that Hermione could carry the book easily.)

"Can you seriously carry that darling? And isn't the book too thick for you to read?" Madelaine asked innocently, maintaining a neutral face knowing that asking such nonsense questions towards her daughter's love for reading, irks her.

Hermione threw her mother a glare, but upon catching on her mother's quirking lips her eyes softened, "Don't start riling me maman, I know what you're doing."

Madelaine merely shrugged at her and blew her a kiss, "Don't forget to take a break in between, okay?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother. 'Seriously what's with my children and their habit of rolling their eyes?' She thought grudgingly. Suddenly Charles's voice echoed in her head, 'As if you don't do that to me?'

"Yes, maman. I will take a break in between. Now can we go?" Her eyes pleading. 'Who's going to say no to that puppy look?' Sighing, she nodded. She then turned to Angeline, "remember that lunch will be prepared soon at 11:30."

"Yes, Elaine. I'll keep that in mind." Angeline responded, before offering her hand to the little princess beside her.

"Also if you need me of anything, I'll be in my boudoir." Angeline smiled in acknowledgment, "Of course. We'll go now, say bye-bye to your maman, little rose."

Hermione, waved her goodbye not forgetting to say her love to Madelaine, before grabbing Angeline's hand again. Madelaine waved back at her too beaming with love as they walked off.

November 1, 1981, Potter Manor
1:15 a.m.

Upon their arrival, the two best friends parted their ways at once to take care of some tasks. Sirius Orion Black levitated James carefully to the nearest bedroom. He then immediately fire called Madame Pomfrey for help. Remus on the other hand had already taken care of Lily's burial and Tifa's with the help of some house-elves.

Oh, and Peter.

"How is he doing Poppy? Will he be fine?" Sirius asked from the doorway as he monitors every movement of Madam Pomfrey over James's body.

Poppy sighed once she finished her diagnostics, making sure she didn't miss anything. "I still don't know why you're hiding him here instead of bringing him to St. Mungo's," shaking her head, she quietly packs her supplies and brought out several potions that her patient will be needing, "I've already fixed some of his injuries. However, he needs to be seen by a professional for his head, a mind healer. As soon as possible if you might."

This made Sirius move beside James's bed, worried. "What's wrong?"

Madam Pomfrey threw him a disgruntled look about to shush him for making a noise but softened as she heard the concern in his voice. "Whatever magical leftover he inhaled rendered him to fall asleep for who knows how long," sighing again, she gently unrumpled the blanket of James. "Try calling Andromeda Tonks, isn't she part of the Order?"

Sirius shook his head in negative. It's true, Andromeda— his cousin whose name was also blasted off from the tapestry— isn't a member of the Order. Her husband is, however, a part of it. "Is she a mind healer?"

Poppy stared at him skeptically. "From what I heard she isn't only a Mediwitch, but also a licensed mind healer. You don't know?"

Well, he didn't know that. Sirius never really bothered. In fact, he thought Andromeda was only a Mediwitch.

Sirius accompanied Poppy back to the floo in the receiving room. As they descended the grand stairs of the Potter Manor. "Please don't mention anything about this to Dumbledore or anyone at all, please Poppy?" Sirius said, his tone pleading and staring at her desperate.

"Why should I keep quiet about this Sirius?" Poppy looked thoroughly confused, "what really happened, Sirius? James' injuries were caused by some dark magic. I had to use all of my potions to neutralize one deep wound on his bicep," she then remembered Snape providing her some potions to bring with her.

"Snape's in this too?" Poppy asked him, halting their steps at the entrance of the drawing-room. "Tell me everything now, Sirius. If you need more of me, I need to know what I'm entering."

That's when Sirius found himself explaining to Poppy in a rush what had happened at the Potter's Cottage. He wasn't sure if providing Poppy the information is safe, but he didn't care he needed to release it out, and Poppy acting as some maternal figure helps a lot.

The pair ended on the couch in front of the blazing fireplace of the receiving room, hot tea service already prepared for them.

"Should I take an Oath of Secrecy?" Poppy blurted out after Sirius recounted what happened in the Potter Cottage, staring intently at him. Sirius' neck snapped soundly when he turned to look at her. "What?" He asked surprise visible on his face.

Poppy mindlessly fiddled with her matron robes, "I fully understand your reason for James to hide from Dumbledore's overbearing nosy personality. At the same time, I know how Dumbledore might affect his healing— everybody's healing— if he tries to interfere you with his secret agenda— whatever that might be," she trailed off and looked at the fire, "and him taking Harry from his own family, is quite disturbing. Headmaster Dumbledore is notoriously secretive about certain things, and I guess Harry's one of it."

Sirius has been quietly listening to her talk, nodding his head solemnly, "Remus, Snape and I, are careful with how we're going to take this. But we need to handle and figure out this Dumbledore issue before we take our next plan further," he sighed, rubbing his face to remove the creeping tiredness.

Poppy reached out her hand to give him a comforting pat on his forearm, "just tell me when you need my assistance. Anything at all."

Sirius smiled gratefully at her, giving her hand a light squeeze. Poppy then stood up from her seat and reached for her wand, "I solemnly swear on my magic to never speak the location and secrets of James and Harry Potter, to anyone. This oath is also extended to those who they consider friends and relatives. So mote it be."

Once the signature zing of bright light shot from Poppy's wand had disappeared, Sirius surprised her by giving her a grateful hug.

"Thank you."

Poppy Pomfrey gave him a comforting pat on his back before disentangling herself from his arms, smiling in understanding. With one final reminder to call Andromeda as soon as possible and to not forget James' potions, she left.

Sirius went back to the couches and sat heavily. There are so many things to do. First, calling Andromeda. "Layla."

A well-groomed house-elf popped in front of Sirius. Layla's the head of the Potter's house-elves and Tifa's mother. She's wearing a maroon toga with the signature logo of Potter House stitched on her gold sash tied around her waist. "What can master be needing?"

Sirius couldn't blame the house-elf in front of him. Losing a daughter, and a mistress in one night is too much. Despite the somber atmosphere in the Potter Manor, Layla wanted to make sure that her master's friends and little heir are served promptly. She's also using this time to make herself busy to forget the feeling of loss in her magic. Sirius could only sympathize with her.

"Layla," Sirius began, softly calling her attention. "You need to take a break. Go mourn if you must, you don't need to do anything for now."

The elf shook her head stubbornly, before looking up at him with determined yet, tearful eyes, "I must continue serving my masters, and little Harry, even if m-mis—" that's when Layla broke down. Kneeling in front of the crying elf, Sirius awkwardly started patting her head as she cries herself out over the deaths of Lily and Tifa.

"Okay Layla, I understand. But after I ask you of something, you go straight ahead to your quarters. Is this understood?"

"Yes, master Sirry." The elf said, her voice cracking as she soundly blows her nose on a conjured handkerchief, making Sirius grimace slightly.

Oh no, he's not yet done mourning for Lily and Tifa. He still has a lot of tears to spill, but right now James needs him and Harry. Once he noticed that Layla has composed herself, he asked her to bring Andromeda here and tell her that she's needed urgently. Layla nodded her head and left with a soft pop.

Layla was gone for five minutes before another pop signaled her arrival, but this time with Andromeda.

Andromeda was looking at him with concern her trained healer eyes scanning his whole being, checking for any injuries, "what is it, Sirius? Are you well?" She asked when she removed her hand from the elf.

Sirius gave a grateful nod at Layla before she disappeared.

"I'm doing fine Meda." He said, his exhaustion making itself known. "Just... tired that is all. But I do need your help."

"What is it? What's happening?" Andromeda asked, "And where am I?"

"It's James. You're in the Potter Manor." Sirius stood up and gave her a kiss on both cheeks. "Hello, Andy."

"That's kind of late for a greeting," Andromeda said her eyebrow raised at him. Sirius merely shrugged. Sighing, she let him lead her towards where James Potter is staying.

"Give me a summary report, Sirius."

Knowing what she means, "According to Madame Pomfrey, James inhaled some kind of magical left over from the attack recently that rendered him into a sleeping coma. She's not proficient with mind healing, hence she's required me to call for you to diagnose him."

"Attack? What attack?" Andromeda asked him, warily. Sirius shook his head at her non-verbally telling her to ask about it later.

Once they arrived at the room where James is occupying, Andromeda immediately went into healer mode, casting complicated diagnostic charms above James' head.

Sirius could see, from where he sat on the foot of the bed, the diagnostic scan projected James' brain activity. It was his first time encountering a projected human brain instead of those which were splattered on the floor from the victims of savage Death Eaters.

Andromeda hummed under her breath as she watches James's brain. She began waving intricate wand patterns zooming in and out on some areas of the unconscious man lying on the bed.

"Andy?" Sirius was starting to feel anxious about whatever Andromeda's found out. He wondered if his best mate will be able to make it in the end, or perhaps might forget them all. Surely not Harry, his own son? And Lily... 'Oh god, I can't be the bearer of such grave news.'

It'll be absolutely hard for both Remus and Sirius to be the ones to impart the grave news to James once he's awakened.

"He's fine." Andromeda finally said. Her relief is evident in her voice. "He's just literally sleeping."

Sirius sighed, relief flooding his system. "No damages?"

"None. He's perfectly clear from any injuries, save from that inhalation of magical property that's quite vague to me. I don't recognize it at all. But—"

"But?" Sirius coaxed her to continue, hanging every word she's saying.

"But whatever this property is, is making James's brain activity so active." She gestured towards the whole view of James's projected brain, "It's like he's aware but sleeping."

"Do you think he's dreaming?"

"I doubt it, I know how a dreaming brain looks like Sirius. But this one? Remarkable." She said again, looking intently at James's brain, "look at this side, Sirius." Andromeda said while pointing to the topmost part of the brain, "that's the parietal lobe. Its basic function is to interpret words and signals from vision, hearing, motor, sensory, and memory. It also senses touch, pain, and temperature... Look at how it moves, isn't it active? Dreaming brains doesn't do these at all. Usually, the dreaming brain patterns are more inconsistent. Their readings aren't smooth like this.

"But here? I can see the readings that his brain is functioning like he's literally awake."

Sirius has been listening to her intently watching as James's brain contracts continuously from whatever his best mate was actually doing. The whole thing is what Sirius could describe, gross, but mind-boggling... But still gross. The more he stares at James's brain, the more he feels his.

"Oh wow. He's talking." Andromeda said, her trained eyes watching intently the huge muscle move in a communication pattern. Sirius was about to open his mouth to ask something when they heard a small voice from the bedroom's doorway.

"Pa'foot?" Andromeda immediately slashed her wand to remove the projected brain and turned around to see the child.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Sirius promptly stood from his post and went to his godson. He carried the little boy to his arms and brought him to James's bed. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Mommy?" Harry asked his eyes wide brimming with tears. Sirius couldn't hold it anymore. His visage cracked and tears began pouring down like a waterfall. He hugged his godson tightly to his arms, "I'm sorry Harry, I couldn't save you all. I wasn't fast enough, I'm sorry."

Harry was silently crying now as he hugs Sirius tighter around the neck. His face hidden beneath the long curls of the current Black Heir.

Andromeda who was still standing looked broken and teary-eyed as she watches them together. She didn't know what exactly happened to the Potters and their friends, but upon connecting the dots... Andromeda silently bowed her head to the loss of another wonderful human being that once graced this plane of the living.

Layla silently brought tea service and Harry's formula and favorite blanket. The one Lily had made especially for her son: an emerald green cotton blanket with pink Lily flower in the middle charmed to bloom every thirty minutes.

Please don't forget to leave a review! Thank you for reading once again!

P.S. I'm sorry for updating so slow.