Chapter 15

31st of August, 1991

Dumbledore Manor

Dumbledore floated down gracefully, his robes settling around him as he landed. He turned to his stunned audience, a mischievous grin on his roguish face. "Sorry for the delay - I had a little pest to take care of."

Nymphadora, still catching her breath, managed to stammer, "That was... incredible."

Dumbledore, landing on the ground, looked younger and more formidable than what any picture had captured. His rugged, roguish face, framed by a neatly trimmed silver beard, was that of a man in his prime, exuding the aura of an experienced general straight out of ancient myths. His eyes were sharp and piercing, and his hair, once long and flowing, was now cut short, giving him a more contemporary appearance. A muggle appearance - Malfoy had said. His lean, muscular frame was clad in linen clothes that clung to his form—loose shorts that allowed freedom of movement and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his powerful forearms. The shirt, slightly open at the collar, revealed a hint of a well-defined chest. His calves were similarly toned, the muscles defined and strong. As Andromeda's eyes traveled over him, she noticed a tattoo on his forearm, an intricate design that seemed to move and shift like smoke around his skin.

"Nymphadora, if I remember correctly," Dumbledore said, his voice rich and warm. "The young protégé of Moody. He only had bad things to say about you, which means he talked a lot about you. That's almost a sign of paternal love from him."

Nymphadora flushed a deep crimson, her hair shifting to a bright pink. She opened her mouth to respond but only managed a shy smile.

Dumbledore grinned at her, a twinkle in his eye. "You can call me Albus. And I believe I can call you Nymmy? I hear you're not particularly fond of your full name."

Nymphadora's eyes widened in surprise and delight. She looked as though she might pass out from joy. "Y-yes, please, Headma…I mean, Sir Dumbledore" she whispered.

Dumbledore then turned to Andromeda, his smile warm and genuine. "Andromeda," he greeted her.

Andromeda straightened, her posture formal and respectful. "Warlock Dumbledore, it is an honor and a privilege to be here. I am deeply grateful for…"

He waved his hand dismissively, his eyes twinkling. "Not this between us, Andromeda. We're friends."

She relaxed, a smile tugging at her lips. Of course they were not - but it was giving her face. "Of course, Warlock Dumbledore."

Dumbledore crouched down to Harry's level, ruffling his hair gently. "Hi, Mate. Happy to see you again. How are you finding your stay with Aunt Andromeda?"

Harry beamed, the excitement evident in his voice. "It's been fantastic! Thank you so much for everything!"

Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "I'm glad to hear that, Harry. And soon, you'll be starting your own adventures at Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "I can't wait, dude! It's going to be amazing!"

Nymmy did a double take at Harry calling Dumbledore 'dude' - but the venerable wizard only laughed, and produced a small gift to Harry. Dumbledore stood up, addressing Andromeda with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for taking such good care of him."

Andromeda's heart swelled with emotion. "He's family, Warlock Dumbledore."

Dumbledore nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Indeed he is. Now, shall we head inside? There are many things to discuss, and a warm drink sounds quite inviting after such an invigorating welcome."

As they began walking towards the mansion, Harry eagerly unpacked his gift - who un-shrunk as soon as it was opened. His eyes widened in astonishment. "Wow! A Nimbus 2000!" he shouted, his face lighting up with pure joy. He had flown with Nymmy before and loved every moment.

Andromeda turned to Dumbledore, her voice filled with gratitude. "Warlock Dumbledore, this is incredibly generous. Thank you so much."

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "It's nothing, Andromeda. Harry deserves it. Well he does not - he did nothing, but you know, the books are called Harry Potter and not Ron Weasley for a reason"

Andromeda did not understand what he was talking about, but she decided to ignore the remark.

They entered the mansion, stepping into a minimalist yet elegant main entrance. The floor was made of polished marble, and the walls were adorned with subtle, tasteful art. On either side of the entrance stood two imposing statues—one of Anubis, the jackal-headed god, and the other of Horus, the falcon-headed deity. The entrance hall led them into a modern-looking salon. Sleek, white leather sofas were arranged around a low glass coffee table, and large floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the gardens outside. The walls were adorned with abstract art pieces - no portraits, Andromeda noticed, adding splashes of color to the serene environment. A state-of-the-art fireplace crackled with a warm, inviting glow.

Dumbledore gestured to the seating area. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I'll prepare some drinks. Mixology is a bit of a hobby of mine," he explained with a twinkle in his eye. "I find it quite relaxing."

As they settled into the plush sofas, Dumbledore moved behind a sleek, modern bar, his hands moving with practiced ease. He selected bottles and ingredients with the precision of a seasoned bartender.

He presented each drink with a flourish. "Harry, for you, a frothy, non-alcoholic CaramelBeer. Rich caramel flavor with a hint of butterscotch, perfect for a young wizard."

Harry's eyes lit up as he took the drink, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks, Professor! This looks amazing!"

Dumbledore then turned to Nymmy. "For you, Nymmy, an 'Electric Punk.' A neon-blue soda with a hint of spice and a burst of citrus, just as vibrant and spirited as you are." He winked at her as he handed over the drink.

Nymphadora's breasts seemed to perk up at the attention, her hair turning a bright red as she blushed. Andromeda watched with an amused gaze, raising an eyebrow at her daughter's reaction.

"And for you, Andromeda, a 'Phoenix Flame.' A strong, amber-colored liquor with a smoky aftertaste that warms you from the inside out."

Andromeda accepted the drink, taking a sip and savoring the complex flavors. It was… her favorite scotch. "How did you know?" she asked, clearly impressed.

Dumbledore smiled mysteriously. "Magic has its ways, Andromeda."

They sipped their drinks, the room filled with the comfortable murmur of conversation. Harry was practically bouncing with excitement, cradling his new broomstick like a prized possession. Nymmy's eyes sparkled as she enjoyed her drink, occasionally stealing glances at Dumbledore, who was content listening to Harry's rambling about his life with the Tonks.

After a few moments, Dumbledore turned to Nymphadora with a gentle yet firm tone. "Nymmy, why don't you take Harry to the garden and help him try out his new broom? I'm sure he's eager to give it a spin."

Nymmy looked a bit disappointed at the obvious dismissal but nodded, understanding the need for privacy. "Sure thing, Professor," she said, her tone light. She turned to Harry, her smile brightening. "Come on, Harry. Let's see what that Nimbus 2000 can do!"

Harry's face lit up with excitement. "Yes! Let's go!"

As they exited towards the garden, Andromeda watched them leave, her heart swelling with pride and affection. Once they were out of earshot, she turned back to Dumbledore, ready for the serious discussion that was sure to follow.

Dumbledore moved to a side table, his movements graceful and deliberate. He reached for a crystal decanter and began pouring himself a glass of scotch, the amber liquid catching the light as it swirled in the glass. The rich aroma of the scotch filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of the garden flowers wafting in through the open windows. Andromeda fidgeted in her seat, her fingers tracing the outline of her glass, her manicured nails tapping rhythmically against the crystal. She glanced down at her elegant laced heels.

Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the irregularities she had discovered in Sirius' situation weighing heavily on her. She adjusted the neckline of her dress, the fabric clinging to her curves, accentuating her ample bosom. How was she to tell Dumbledore?

"I know Sirius is innocent," Dumbledore said calmly, breaking the silence as he took a slow sip of his drink, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers over the rim of the glass.

Andromeda recoiled in surprise, her eyes widening, her breath catching in her throat. "What? How?" she stammered, her mind struggling to process his words. Her cousin, the one everyone believed to be guilty, was innocent? How could Dumbledore possibly know this?

Dumbledore set his glass down with a soft clink and leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "It does not matter how," he replied, his tone firm and reassuring. "What interests me is not only your legal perspective on the matter, nor just your knowledge of the files, but your sociopolitical insight. After all, you have had considerable political training as the eldest daughter of the Black family."

Andromeda fidgeted again, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed down the fabric of her dress. The pressure of the moment was almost overwhelming. This was her chance to prove her worth, to show that she could be useful to Dumbledore. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and then leaned forward, her décolletage revealing the ample curves of her breasts. The movement was both deliberate and subconscious, an attempt to gather courage.

"From a moral standpoint," she began, her voice steady but low, "if Sirius is innocent, it's a scandal of immense proportions. The very foundation of our justice system would be called into question."

"However?" Dumbledore prompted, sensing there was more, his expression encouraging her to continue.

"However," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "from a political point of view, it's much more complicated. Chief Warlock, you are strong and your political influence is significant. You could easily push to reopen the case before the Wizengamot and clear Sirius' name. But the consequences..."

Dumbledore refilled his glass, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering firelight, and took a seat, spreading his legs in a relaxed, confident manner. His presence was commanding, yet inviting. "Continue," he said, making a gesture for her to proceed, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You might lose some credibility," she said cautiously, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. "Not much, but people will question how you failed to protect one of your own clients. Even though everyone believed Sirius was the culprit, your detractors will use this against you."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, his gaze thoughtful. "Yes, indeed. Sirius himself did tell me he was the Secret Keeper. The truth being revealed would shake the foundations of what everyone has believed for years."

"But the one who would lose the most is Crouch," Andromeda continued, her voice tinged with concern. "He's already on a downward slope, and this revelation would completely ruin him. He still has many clients, mostly economic players. If he falls, his clients will flock to Lucius, not to you."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise, his curiosity piqued. "Why?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "Excuse my arrogance, but I'm more powerful, I'm more important and, most importantly..." He flexed his muscles slightly, a playful glint in his eye, "I'm more MANLY!"

Andromeda chuckled softly, the motion causing her breasts to move enticingly beneath the fabric of her dress. Her laughter was warm and genuine, a stark contrast to the seriousness of their conversation. She then shook her head, her expression growing serious once more. "It's true, Chief Warlock. In many ways, you're the better man. More important, more powerful, better at magic, more connected throughout Europe, a student of Flamel…"

She hesitated again, feeling the weight of her next words. Should she tell him? Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, her posture rigid with resolve. "But..." Her voice trailed off as she looked into Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes, searching for reassurance. Finding his gentle yet firm gaze encouraging, she continued, "It's about activity, and the way you treat your clients, Warlock Dumbledore."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he urged, his voice both gentle and commanding.

Her fingers played nervously with the hem of her dress, the fabric clinging to her curves. She crossed her legs, her laced heel shoes catching the light as they dangled slightly from her toes. Her décolletage, framed by the neckline of her dress, revealed the soft, ample curves of her breasts, which rose and fell with her nervous breathing. Her full lips parted slightly as she prepared to speak.

"Warlock Dumbledore, you've been a symbol of hope and power, almost a second coming of Merlin in the public's eyes. But in reality, you've been quite reclusive, staying mostly within the walls of Hogwarts. Your influence is undeniable, but it's been more symbolic than tangible for your clients."

Dumbledore's gaze remained steady, his eyes following her every movement, the flickering firelight reflecting in their depths. "Explain," he prompted softly.

Andromeda took another deep breath, the rise and fall of her chest drawing Dumbledore's eyes momentarily. "Lucius, on the other hand, is less powerful, and is perceived in a worse light by the public than you. But he's a lot more active in managing his clients. He hosts events, facilitates introductions, and creates economic and social opportunities for them. He treats them like valued associates, constantly nurturing those relationships."

As she spoke, her voice grew more confident. "One of your main clients, Edmund Trant, the head of the Department of Magical Transportation, tries to emulate this approach - to your benefit. He organizes receptions, hoping to foster the same kind of network Lucius does with your own clients. But, Warlock Dumbledore, you've often been invited to these events and haven't attended. In times of war, when security and strength were paramount, everyone would flock to you. But now, in a time of relative peace, people are looking for stability, growth, and opportunities."

Dumbledore's expression grew pensive, his eyes distant as he considered her words. He swirled the scotch in his glass, the amber liquid catching the light in hypnotic patterns. "So," he prompted, "what you're saying is…"

Andromeda leaned forward again, her décolletage revealing more of her soft, ample curves. Her fingers traced the outline of her glass. "Yes," she continued, "if Sirius is proven innocent and Crouch falls, his clients will not naturally gravitate towards you. They will seek out Lucius, who offers them the connections and opportunities they crave."

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, absorbing the implications of her analysis. He finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a thoughtful expression. "Thank you, Andromeda. Your insights are invaluable," he said, his voice sincere. He stood up, the movement fluid and graceful, and walked over to the windows. The view of the garden, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, seemed to calm him as he gazed out into the distance.

He looked back at her. "Andromeda, what do you draw from our own Patron-Client relationship?" he asked.

She recoiled in surprise. It was very rare to directly address such matters, going against the usual customs. She thought for a moment, crossing her legs, briefly making her panties apparent as the movement caused her dress to ride up slightly.

Gathering her thoughts, she began diplomatically, "The main advantage for me, as the banished daughter of the Black family, is the protection your patronage provides. When I was banished for marrying my late husband Ted, a..muggleborn, it painted a target on my back. Everyone could kill or kidnap me without fear of repercussions. As a 'princess' of an aristocratic house, I was a prime target for slavers. The knowledge that I was under your patronage served as a sufficient guarantee of my safety."

The mood had grown darker as she spoke. Dumbledore stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully. His eyes were penetrating.

"And what else would you want?" he asked, his voice low and probing, surprising her with its directness.

She first replied, "I'm very happy with my situation," her voice wavering slightly as she tried to mask her true feelings. She then profusely thanked him, her hands clasping together nervously in her lap. But his gaze remained intense, unwavering, urging her to continue. She hesitated, her heart pounding, feeling a mixture of fear and ambition knotting in her stomach.

"I am a bit bored in life," she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes flickered to his, searching for a reaction. "Yes, I'm a partner in the second-best law firm in Wizarding Britain," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "but... I was raised as a princess, destined for great things. I always felt there was more I was meant to do, more I was meant to be."

Dumbledore smiled, a knowing, almost paternal smile that softened his features. "So, you want power, huh?" he said, his tone a blend of amusement and seriousness.

She reddened in shame, her cheeks flushing deeply. She began to stammer, "No, not power, I want to improve..." Her voice trailed off as she struggled to articulate her thoughts. She stopped, her face reddening even more, her hands trembling slightly. She dropped her head, unable to meet his gaze, and whispered, "Yes."