As Nymphadora stepped away from Bill, Andromeda rushed forward to envelop her in a warm hug. "Oh, Nym, my darling girl," she exclaimed, her voice filled with love and concern. "How are you? How's your Auror job going? Are you taking care of yourself?"
Andromeda launched into a small rant, her words tumbling out in a flurry of worry. "You know how dangerous that job can be, and I just can't help but worry about you every single day. Promise me you're being careful out there, Nym. Promise me."
Nymphadora gently pulled back from the hug, a reassuring smile on her face. "Mum, I'm alright. I promise. I'm being as careful as I can be, and I have Bill and Fleur watching my back."
Andromeda's gaze shifted to Bill, and she pulled him into a hug as well. "And how are you, Bill? Taking good care of my girl, I hope?"
Bill chuckled, returning the hug warmly. "Always, Andromeda. You know I'd do anything to keep her safe."
As Andromeda fussed over Bill, Mary stepped up to Nymphadora, greeting her with a smile and a gentle squeeze of the hand.
Bill, rubbing a hand over his stomach, glanced toward the kitchen. "Is dinner ready?" he asked to no one in particular, just as Ron's stomach gave a loud, rumbling groan of anticipation.
With a chuckle, the group moved toward the dining room, the promise of a hearty meal putting any lingering questions to rest.
Once they were all seated around the table, Molly entered, her expression shifting to one of affectionate exasperation
"Bill Weasley," Molly admonished, "you should have told me sooner that Fleur was coming. I could have tried my hand at making some French dishes to better suit her palate."
Fleur, her eyes sparkling with mirth, interjected, "Oh, Molly, please don't worry. The food tastes absolutely delicious." She paused for a moment before adding mischievously, "Almost as good as French cuisine."
Laughter erupted around the table at Fleur's playful jab. She grinned, continuing, "In fact, I would love to teach you a few of my favorite French recipes. It would be an honor to share a piece of my culture with you."
Molly's face lit up with delight at the offer, and she reached across the table to give Fleur's hand a grateful squeeze.
Andromeda, her curiosity piqued, turned to Fleur. "So, tell us, Fleur, how did you meet Bill and Nymphadora?"
Fleur smiled, her eyes growing distant with fond memories. "Well, I work as a junior curse breaker at Gringotts, so Bill and I have crossed paths quite often. As for Nym, we've actually met several times at Beauxbatons when we would visit our sisters, Gabrielle and Dorea."
Mary's eyes widened in surprise. "You know my Dorea?"
Fleur nodded, her expression warm. "Yes, it was quite a surprise to meet her again once I started dating Bill and Nym. I had no idea she was Nym's sister at first."
Her gaze then shifted to Harry, and she offered him a kind smile. "Harry, Dorea sends her best wishes. She's trying her hardest to return in time for your Taming Ceremony."
Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest at the mention of his sister. Harry grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How is Dorea doing, Fleur? Do you get to see her often?"
Fleur's smile softened as she thought of Harry's sister. "Dorea is doing wonderfully. She's thriving at Beauxbatons and has made quite a name for herself. I try to visit her as often as I can, and we always have the most delightful conversations."
As Fleur finished speaking, Nymphadora's voice piped up from her spot at the table. "But enough about us!" she exclaimed, brandishing her spoon towards Harry and Ron. "I've heard that you squirts managed to defeat a bloody griffins! Honestly, what are they teaching you at that school? Mum told me that Ron overpowered the ruddy beast while you put it the other to sleep, Harry."
Before either boy could respond, Ginny chimed in, her eyes wide with excitement. "It was absolutely thrilling to watch! You should have seen Ron in his armor, Nym. He looked so cool and powerful. The entire audience was shocked to see him manhandle the poor beast like that."
Ginny's voice took on a more somber tone as she continued, "I was so worried about him, though. I could barely watch the entire fight without my heart leaping into my throat. But Ron, you were incredible. The way you stood your ground and refused to back down... I was so proud."
Ron felt flustered and proud, his ears turning red as he tried to downplay everything. "It was nothing, really," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyone would have done the same."
She took a deep breath, turning her attention to Harry. "And Harry..." Ginny paused, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as memories of his fight flooded her mind. "He was good," she finished simply, her voice trailing off.
Nymphadora's eyebrows shot up, a teasing grin spreading across her face. "Just good, huh?"
Ron scoffed, shaking his head. "Good? He was bloody amazing! Harry managed to put the beast to sleep within minutes. And get this, Nym, he actually broke the griffin's leg before raining down a mini meteor shower on the poor sod. Honestly," he confessed, his voice filled with awe, "I don't think he even needs magic at this point."
Fleur's expression shifted from surprise to confusion as she listened to the animated conversation about Harry and Ron's impressive victories against the griffins. She delicately set down her fork and took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.
"At Beauxbatons," she began, her melodic voice capturing the attention of everyone at the table, "we are taught a different approach to magical creature handling. Our philosophy emphasizes the importance of working with creatures that are more manageable and less dangerous. After all, a tiny Niffler can bring about the same changes a mighty griffin can."
She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "The size and ferocity of the beast are ultimately irrelevant when it comes to harnessing its power. What matters is the skill and finesse of the wizard in manipulating the threads of magic after he bonds with the creature. By focusing on smaller, more docile creatures, we minimize the risks and create a more sustainable system of magic."
The table fell silent for a moment, contemplating Fleur's words. It was a different perspective, one that highlighted the varying approaches to magical education and creature handling across different cultures.
Harry and Ron shared a grin, their eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who would want a niffler in a world where griffins exist?" Ron asked, his voice filled with excitement. Harry nodded in agreement, and the two friends exchanged a fist bump, their laughter ringing out across the table.
The rest of the family joined in, their mirth filling the room. Bill, however, turned his nose up with faux pompousness. "Kids, always running behind bigger toys," he said, his tone dripping with mock superiority. He glanced at his tamed fwooper, a small colorful bird perched on a nearby stand. "I hope you grow up and learn that the best things can come in small packages." He punctuated his statement with a playful wink.
Molly Weasley, her eyes twinkling with amusement, chimed in. "Oh, let them have their fun, Bill," she said, her voice warm and reassuring. "After all, I remember how bummed you were when you couldn't find the hidebehind that was rumored to have been spotted nearby when you tamed your fwooper."
Bill threw his hands up in the air in defeat, a grin spreading across his face. "Honestly, Mum!" he exclaimed, his tone filled with exasperation and humor. "You just had to bring that up, didn't you?"
The table erupted in laughter once more, the jovial atmosphere filling the room with warmth. However, as the mirth gradually subsided, Bill's expression turned serious, his brow furrowing with worry. He turned towards the adults, his eyes seeking out his mother, Molly, and the Potter coven members, Andromeda and Mary. "Any news about Dad and Uncle Potter?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, the earlier levity replaced by a sense of urgency.
The smile on Molly's face slowly disappeared, her features growing somber as she registered the gravity of Bill's question. Her eyes darted towards Harry, Ron, and Ginny, a silent communication passing between the mother and her children. Ginny, astute and perceptive, immediately understood the unspoken cue. She stood up, her chair scraping gently against the floor. "I'll clean up the table, Mum," she announced, her voice filled with a forced cheerfulness. "After all, you four did cook such a grand meal." She cast a meaningful side-eye towards Harry and Ron. With a graceful wave of her hand over the table, she added, "Care to help?"
Ron, ever the reluctant helper, sighed heavily as he pushed himself up from his seat. He began gathering a few of the dishes, the clatter of cutlery and plates punctuating the awkward silence that had descended upon the room. Harry, on the other hand, remained seated, his intense gaze fixed upon Andromeda and Mary. He seemed to be trying to read their minds. It was only after a sharp nudge from Ron that Harry snapped out of his reverie. He stood up, somewhat hesitantly, and started to assist with the cleanup.
Fleur stood up to help as well. However, as she took a step towards the table, Nymphadora's hand shot out, catching her arm in a gentle but firm grip. Fleur paused, her eyes meeting Nymphadora's in a brief, intense stare. A silent conversation seemed to pass between the two women. After a moment, Nymphadora's features softened, and she gave Fleur a gentle smile. With a slight nod, she released her hold on Fleur's arm, allowing her to join the younger generation in their task.
The four of them entered the kitchen, silently setting the dishes in the sink and starting to clean them. The reminder of the war had dampened the mood considerably. Harry was acutely aware of how much he missed the constant jokes of his father and the jovial, loud laugh of Arthur Weasley.
When they finished, they returned to observe that the dining area was closed off, with almost no sign escaping the room, the voices likely magically suppressed.
They stepped out onto the porch, the crisp, chilly air of the night caressing their skin pleasantly. The garden was filled with small, bioluminescent creatures that Harry would have loved to see up close, but he simply couldn't muster the excitement given the somber atmosphere.
After some time, Ginny questioned with a hesitant voice, "Hey Fleur, can I ask you something?" Fleur, who had been staring pensively across the garden, turned towards Ginny and gave her an encouraging nod.
Ginny hesitated for a moment, interrupting herself a few times before finally speaking up in a soft tone. "I was wondering if you could actually bond in a coven. Because of you being..." She floundered around a bit before simply settling on gesturing to all of Fleur with a sheepish look.
In the wizarding world, covens were usually formed between a wizard and multiple witches. The ritual was typically conducted on the night of a significant celestial event, when the currents flowing through the magical spectrum were particularly potent. This could be during a solstice, equinox, or other pivotal astrological alignment, harnessing the heightened energies of the occasion. However, amidst the grandeur of covens, there existed those who were cruelly denied this privilege, their very blood a barrier to the intimate connections that others took for granted.
These unfortunate souls, branded as "halfbreeds," found themselves on the fringes of magical society, their existence a testament to the prejudices that ran deep within the wizarding community. Hagrid, the gentle half-giant, and the noble centaurs were among those who bore the brunt of this discrimination. Despite their humanoid appearance and keen intellects, their mixed heritage rendered them unable to forge the precious bonds with magical creatures that were so essential to a wizard's power.
While some were known to inherit a glimmer of their parents' magical talents, these abilities were mere shadows of their true potential, diluted by the blood that flowed through their veins. Males could not tame creatures, while females could not bond in a coven with a wizard who could.
The term "halfbreed", however, was coined not solely to describe those resulting from crossbreeding, but to encompass any creature possessing human-like intelligence yet unable to form or facilitate magical bonds. The term served to underscore their perceived inadequacies, effectively stripping them of any recognition or respect within the magical hierarchy. This label was an insult upon injury, a means to dehumanize and marginalize them further.
When the silence stretched on for a bit, Ginny went to apologetically backpedal, but Fleur cut her off. "I did not take offense, Ginny. It is natural for you to be curious. I was simply gathering my thoughts."
Fleur continued, "You see, Veelas are unique. While we are still considered halfbreeds," her lips curled slightly at the word, "we function quite differently from what you would expect. We have evolved enough to essentially have pruned those effects off. While the exact cause is still unknown, it is quite likely that some particular gene was perhaps bred out after several generations."
Taking a deep breath, Fleur concluded, "So that allows me to continue being all this," she gestured to her body, her perfect Veela curves accentuated by the moonlight, "while also being all of this." She then gestured to all of Ginny in a similar teasing manner, a playful smile on her lips.
As Ginny sheepishly smiled at Fleur with understanding in her eyes, the moment was shattered by the sudden bang of the front door. Nymphadora Weasley burst onto the porch, her usual vibrant grin plastered across her face. Yet, for the first time, Harry could see through the façade, the smile not quite reaching her eyes, which glimmered with a hidden worry.
Andromeda and Mary emerged from behind Nymphadora, their presence accompanied by a fleeting snippet of sound that escaped through the briefly open door. The raised voices of Bill and his mother, engaged in a heated argument, were abruptly silenced by a swift wave of Nymphadora's hand, leaving only an unsettling stillness in its wake.
"Come on now, Potters," Nymphadora called out, her voice overly cheerful, yet strained at the edges. "Scurry back to your house and let the Weasleys retire in peace for the night."
Andromeda, with a mix of exasperation and affection, swiftly slapped the back of Nymphadora's head before pulling her into a tight embrace. Mary joined in, enveloping them both in her arms, and as they turned to look at Harry, he felt an irresistible tug, drawing him into the warmth of their shared hug. As he tightened his hold on the three women who meant the world to him, Harry understood with startling clarity why Professor Dumbledore had always insisted that love was the greatest magic of all.
"I'll visit tomorrow, little bro," Nym murmured softly, her breath tickling his ear. "After all, we have to get you ready for your taming. Can't have you getting a big head, now can we?" Harry nodded, not trusting his voice, as he tried to etch this perfect moment into his memory, a precious gem to cherish in the days to come.
As they reluctantly parted, goodbyes were exchanged, promises were made, and Harry found himself gravitating towards Ginny. He gathered her into his arms, breathing in her familiar scent, a mix of wildflowers and parchment. The warmth of his body pressed against her, and she shivered involuntarily. "I'll see you soon, Gin," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Take care of yourself, and if you need anything, I am just across the street."
Ginny's answering smile was soft, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she hugged him fiercely. "You too, Harry. Don't do anything reckless, and remember, I'm always here for you."
Later, as they entered the manor, Harry paused, a question burning on his lips. "Is everything alright, Andromeda?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
When she started to brush him off, Harry interjected, his voice soft but insistent. "Mum," he said, looking at both Andromeda and Mary, who had stopped to give him their full attention.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Harry asked the question that had been haunting him. "Are they alright? I've seen the pictures too, you know. You don't have to tell me all the details if you don't want to. But please, just tell me if they will be alright." Harry couldn't shake the gruesome images of the masks and the devastated villages from his mind.
The women frowned, their eyes widening with surprise and sorrow, before they walked to Harry, enveloping him once more in a fierce hug. They murmured apologies and assurances, promising that James and Lily were safe. As they stepped back, Mary and Andromeda exchanged a loaded glance before Mary continued, her words carefully chosen.
"There have been a few disturbances since the last attack, Harry. Your dad is facing some difficulties figuring them out," she explained, her voice measured and slow. "While there are things that you shouldn't have to worry about, the good news is, they would likely have to return soon."
Harry noticed the emphasis on "have to" but chose not to press further. Knowing that his parents were safe was enough for now. With a grateful smile, he bid them goodnight and climbed the stairs to his room, his heart heavy with unspoken fears.
The next few days seemed to pass in a blur, with Nym and Fleur making regular appearances, their visits a whirlwind of last-minute tips, intricate arrays, and a dizzying array of potions. The taming ceremony, the culmination of Harry's journey, loomed ever closer, a mere day away. As he lay in bed, his eyes fixed upon the familiar ceiling of his room, Harry's thoughts swirled, consumed by the question his sister Nym had posed earlier that day to him and Ron: What creature were they aiming to tame?
As a wizard, Harry felt the weight of expectation, a silent demand to tame a powerful creature, a symbol of strength to grace his coven, just as his father had done. Yet, Fleur's words echoed in his mind, a gentle reminder that true power resided not in the ferocity of the beast but in the bond forged between wizard and creature. Still, the rush he had felt when facing the griffin, the genuine threat to his life, kindled a burning desire within him to conquer and tame such a formidable foe. With a shake of his head, he set the thought aside for now and allowed his eyes to drift shut.
However, his respite was short-lived. A sharp, cracking sound reverberated through the silence of the night, jolting Harry awake, his ears ringing from the sheer force of the noise. He hit the ground running, ripping open the door and making his way downstairs with urgent haste.
What greeted him in the living area was a scene that both confused and terrified him. The entire room was bathed in an ominous crimson glow, emanating from the fireplace. Instead of the familiar green flames of floo travel, an eerie red light danced within the hearth. Harry's footsteps were met with a sudden force that lifted him off the ground and deposited him sharply behind the protective stances of Andromeda and Mary.
Their eyes glowed brightly with the power of Sight, and Andromeda raised a single hand, causing the air before them to shift and solidify, knitting itself into an intricate pattern that shielded the trio from the anomaly. Mary clenched her fist, and the air seemed to rush in, causing Harry to turn and witness an array of knives, forks, and other household objects whirring into position behind them, their wicked edges sharpened before his very eyes, all aimed at the fireplace.
The flames, meanwhile, seemed to grow in volume, reaching towards the ceiling in a vibrant daze. As they reached a crescendo, the shield pulsed, and the suspended objects cocked back, poised to be unleashed. Before Harry could question the unfolding events, the front door banged open, admitting the Weasleys.
Bill took the lead, his eyes glowing a bright red, while Molly, Dorcas, Ron, and Ginny flanked him, followed by Fleur and Nymphadora. Bill raised his hand, and a second shield rose to reinforce the first.
Harry saw his sister look at him before he was lifted off the ground for the second time that evening, crashing painfully against Ron. He silently wished people would stop manhandling him so carelessly.
The fire pulsed, spitting someone out, and Harry braced himself for an attack. However, Molly Weasley's cry rang out, "Don't attack, it's Arthur!"
The fire pulsed a couple more times, materializing two witches, and with a jolt, Harry recognized the mane of red hair belonging to his mother and the grey tresses of his grandmother. They landed in a crouch, turning back towards the fire, ignoring the projectiles aimed at them.
The flames seemed to impossibly grow in size before spitting out another figure, eliciting a scream – perhaps from Harry himself. For while James Potter had returned, a significant part of him had not, a large chunk of his midsection appeared to be missing. Yet, Harry watched in horror as his father sat up in despair, looking back at the now-dying fire.
"No!" James screamed, his voice raw with anguish, echoing through the room and shattering the silence.
The room fell silent, the only sound being the heavy breathing of the newly arrived Weasleys and the distant rumble of the dying fire. Harry's eyes were fixed on his father, who was staring back at the fading flames with a mix of despair and anguish etched onto his features.
Dorothea Potter, Harry's grandmother, rushed forward, her face a mask of concern. "James, oh James, what's happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry and fear.
James Potter's gaze slowly shifted to his mother, his eyes red-rimmed and sunken, as if he had witnessed unspeakable horrors. "It's...it's too late," he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet carrying the weight of a thousand sorrows. He watched as Dorothea's face crumpled, a deep sadness settling over her features.
Nymphadora closed her eyes and sharply raised her hands skyward. After a moment, Harry looked out the window to see a small red spell shooting upwards. As it reached its apogee, it suddenly exploded, bathing the sky in a large, golden light – a beacon, a call for aid.
Bill, who had been watching the scene unfold with a somber expression, stepped forward. "What do you mean, James?" he asked, his voice firm but gentle, a calm in the midst of the storm.
James opened his mouth to reply, his words tumbling out in a torrent of grief and self-recrimination. "They came so suddenly, just like all the other times. I thought we could take them, but I was so stupid." He cried out, his voice raw with emotion. "I told him to go ahead, but why wouldn't he listen? If only I was a bit stronger..." The last words were punctuated by a violent coughing fit, and the hand he used to cover his mouth came back dyed in a crimson that chilled Harry to the bone.
Mary Potter rushed forward, her movements swift and purposeful. "Calm down, love," she soothed, her voice a balm in the chaos. "It looks like you've lost quite a bit of blood."
In a sudden flash of fire, the living room was lit up, and yet, this time, no one but Harry, Ginny, and Ron seemed startled. The air itself seemed to fold and contort, bending reality itself, before Albus Dumbledore, Minerva Dumbledore née McGonagall, and Poppy Dumbledore née Pomfrey stepped through, accompanied by the majestic Fawkes the Phoenix soaring above them.
Harry watched in awe as the air shimmered and rippled around Dumbledore, a testament to the immense power he wielded. It was as if reality itself acknowledged his presence, warping in reverence to one of the most formidable sorcerers in the world. Dumbledore's robes, deep blue and adorned with intricate silver runes that seemed to pulse with their own light, swirled around him as if alive. His long, silver beard and hair glowed faintly in the magical currents, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. The twinkle in his piercing blue eyes was tempered by the gravity of the situation, yet his very presence filled the room with a sense of reassurance and command.
Poppy wasted no time, her eyes zeroing in on James's battered form. She rushed towards him, her hands already glowing with a golden aura, ready to heal and mend. Minerva and Dumbledore approached the Weasleys, their expressions grave, yet determined.
The scene unfolded like a tableau of war, with loved ones clinging to one another, healers tending to the wounded.
James, seeming to find a newfound determination upon the arrivals of Albus and the others, pushed away Poppy's helping hands with startling urgency. He lurched forward, staining Albus' robes crimson as he grasped at the older wizard's shoulders.
"Albus!" he cried, his voice laced with anguish. "My father is dead! They slaughtered him, Albus." James spoke through sobs that wracked his body. "Godric's Hollow has fallen! You must help..." Before he could continue, however, his eyes rolled back into his head as Poppy gently laid a hand on the back of his neck.
Poppy turned towards the wide-eyed Andromeda, her expression one of stern professionalism. "I need blood replenishers, Mrs. Potter." When Andromeda remained frozen, Mary rose and ushered her out, their movements swift and purposeful.
The Weasleys had gathered around Arthur, who also seemed to have sustained some injuries, their faces etched with worry and concern.
Through it all, Harry found his eyes drawn to one person alone – his mother. Lily had barely moved from her position since her arrival, but what stunned Harry was the sheer terror etched onto her features. She looked pale, more than he had ever seen before, her eyes wide and haunted. Nymphadora sat beside her, but her gaze seemed to pierce through the veil of reality itself, unresponsive to the chaos unfolding around her.
Fawkes let out a single, long trill, and Harry could feel the tension draining from the air. The phoenix's song infused life into the very atmosphere, a balm that seemed to calm the frayed nerves of all present. Yet, Harry's eyes remained fixed on his mother, unable to tear himself away from the sight of her distress.
"They have a wizard killer, Albus," Lily spoke up, her voice shattering the soothing melody of the phoenix, her words hanging heavy in the now deadly silent room. Fawkes sat on a perch, next to the fwooper, and Harry thought even the phoenix looked scared.
Albus turned his gaze towards Lily, his expression grave but gentle. "Repeat that, my dear," he urged softly.
"They have tamed a monster, Albus," Lily's voice shook, her words laced with a fear that chilled Harry to the core. "A XXXXX creature that stepped right out of a nightmare, Albus." Her voice was soft, yet it carried through the room, piercing the silence like a dagger.
Lily continued, her words tumbling out in a torrent of disbelief and horror. "It seemed to ignore all the magic that we threw at it. I could not look at it with my sight unlocked without feeling like a thousand needles piercing my eyes." She let out an incredulous laugh, devoid of mirth. "It burned through my wards in record time." Her eyes met Albus' once more, and the vulnerability in her gaze was heart-wrenching. "How do we fight against the impossible, Albus?"
Dumbledore's expression grew grave, his brow furrowed with concern. "What was it, Lily?" he asked, his voice heavy with trepidation.
Lily's answer was a single word, spoken with a finality that sent a chill down Harry's spine.
"Lethifold."
Thank you for reading! For early access to more chapters, visit my Pat - reon page with the same name as my profile.
Lethifold: wiki/Lethifold