Chapter 6 – A growing relationship

A week later, the fire crackled softly, casting warm light over the room as Harry and Minerva McGonagall shared dinner. Minerva was in high spirits, recounting stories from her younger years with a rare smile playing on her usually stern features.

"I must say," she said, taking a sip of wine, "it's been some time since I've had a dinner with pleasant company rather than dealing with school politics."

Harry chuckled, but before he could respond, a knock echoed through the room. Harry frowned slightly, glancing at the clock on the mantle. It was late for visitors.

"Excuse me," he said, standing to answer the door.

When he opened it, his heart gave a familiar jolt.

"Amelia."

She stood there, looking slightly flustered but determined. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Harry hesitated. "No, of course not. Come in."

Amelia stepped inside, only to stop short when she saw Minerva seated at the table, sipping wine with an air of ease. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Professor McGonagall!"

Minerva sat gracefully, a warm smile playing at her lips. "Amelia Bones. It's lovely to see you out of the library for a change."

Amelia chuckled nervously, smoothing her hands over her robes. "Yes, well… I had a question for Professor Blackwood." She glanced quickly at Harry, her expression careful, though her heart thudded in her chest.

Minerva's eyebrow arched in that familiar way. "I wasn't aware you two were on such friendly terms."

Harry cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward under the weight of Minerva's gaze. "We're… dating," he said simply, his tone steady but his eyes flicking to Amelia to gauge her reaction.

Amelia's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she looked down at the floor.

Minerva's sharp eyes darted between them, her expression shifting from surprise to a knowing smile. "Ah. I see. Does Dumbledore know of this?"

Harry leaned casually against the table, smirking. "Oh, he knows. In fact, he's the one who's been sending Amelia my way with fake notes."

Amelia's head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait, what?"

Harry laughed softly. "You didn't think it was a coincidence, did you? Every time you showed up at my door with a note, it was because Dumbledore sent you on a fool's errand."

Amelia blinked, processing this revelation. "But… why?"

Minerva let out a low chuckle, setting her wine glass down with a gentle clink. "Because Albus Dumbledore has always enjoyed meddling in matters of the heart. He thinks he has a knack for seeing potential connections long before the rest of us."

Harry nodded. "I suppose he thought he was doing us a favour."

Amelia crossed her arms, a mix of amusement and frustration flashing in her eyes. "And you never thought to mention this to me?"

Harry grinned, stepping closer. "I thought you might hex me."

Minerva laughed softly, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Amelia, you're of age, and if the headmaster is aware of your relationship and has no objections, neither do I. In fact…" She gave Amelia a pointed look. "I've never seen him quite so happy as he's been this term."

Amelia's blush deepened, but a shy smile tugged at her lips. "I didn't mean to interrupt your evening. I can come back another time."

"Nonsense," Minerva said with a wave of her hand. "Please, join us. It's been too long since I've had the opportunity to enjoy such pleasant company."

Before long, the three of them were seated around the table, the initial awkwardness melting away as conversation flowed.

Minerva regaled them with tales from her Hogwarts days, and Amelia listened intently, her laughter ringing through the room.

"You were quite the troublemaker in your time, weren't you?" Amelia teased, her eyes sparkling.

Minerva chuckled. "Oh, I had my moments. Though nothing compared to some of my students. Your brother, Edgar, was particularly spirited."

Amelia grinned. "He always claimed you were his favourite professor."

"And you?" Minerva asked, her gaze softening. "Have you enjoyed your time at Hogwarts?"

"I have," Amelia said. "I have learned a great deal — about magic and about myself. And you have always been someone I admire."

Minerva's expression softened further. "That means a great deal, Amelia."

Harry watched the exchange with quiet admiration. The two women, so different in some ways and yet so similar in their strength and conviction, were clearly forming a bond.

As the evening wound down, Minerva stood to leave, pulling on her cloak.

"I must say, this was a most enjoyable evening," she said, her gaze flicking between Harry and Amelia. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

Amelia nodded. "I'd like that."

Minerva paused at the door, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "It seems Dumbledore was right, for once. Take care of her, Harry. And Amelia?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Next time you visit, perhaps bring a note of your own."

Harry and Amelia both blushed slightly.

After Minerva left, the room fell into a comfortable silence. Amelia looked at Harry, a soft smile on her lips.

"She's wonderful," Amelia said. "I always thought she was intimidating, but she's… kind and funny."

Harry nodded. "She's one of the best people I know."

Amelia stepped closer to him then slapped him gently on the arm. "You could have warned me!"

"And miss that look on your face?" He grinned, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "Never."

"I think she's someone I'd like to know better."

Harry smiled. "I think she'd say the same about you."

Amelia hesitated for a moment before reaching out to touch his hand. "Thank you for inviting me in."

Harry's fingers curled around hers. "You're always welcome here, Amelia."

Their eyes met, lingering for a long moment before Amelia spoke again, her voice soft. "So… Dumbledore was meddling?"

Harry brushed a loose curl from her face. "Looks like it."

"And you don't mind?"

"Not one bit." He kissed her softly, lingering just long enough to leave her breathless. "Do you?"

Amelia shook her head, her smile widening. "No. Not at all."

O – o – o - o

As winter faded into spring, Harry settled into his dual life with surprising ease. By day, he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, passionately teaching his students the skills they needed to defend themselves. His classes were a blend of rigorous practice and inspiring mentorship, with Harry determined to prepare them for a future that might demand more from them than they realised.

But it was the nights that truly defined his purpose. After curfew, when the halls of Hogwarts were quiet, Harry would floo to Blackwood Manor along with Sirius and meet Edgar, who was eager and determined to help dismantle the darkness. Together, the trio pieced together scraps of intelligence, following the threads of Tom Riddle's movements with relentless focus.

It wasn't ideal, but the late nights became a necessity. The Dark Lord always held his meetings late at night, his paranoia and need for secrecy apparent in every move. Through careful observation, Harry, Sirius and Edgar began to build a picture of his inner circle, noting weaknesses and points of potential leverage. They intercepted messages, disrupted minor plans, and carefully planted false trails to sow discord among the Death Eaters. They were still trying to piece together the date and all the locations of Voldemort's coordinated attack, but they were getting closer. Each small victory bolstered their resolve, but Harry knew the stakes would only get higher.

"It's almost poetic," Sirius muttered one evening in mid March as they pored over a hastily drawn map of the area surrounding Little Hangleton. "The bastard has no idea he's being watched."

Harry smirked, his green eyes glinting in the dim light. "He's so used to instilling fear that he never thinks anyone might turn the tables. That arrogance will be his downfall. Are we ready?"

Edgar nodded "Let's go."

Moments later, the wind bit at Harry's face as he, Edgar, and Sirius stood on the outskirts of a desolate village. The Gaunt shack loomed in the distance—a crumbling ruin, barely visible through the overgrown weeds.

"This is it," Harry said, his voice steady but grim. "The ring is inside."

Sirius shifted from foot to foot, his wand already in hand. "It doesn't look like much."

"Don't underestimate it," Edgar warned, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. "There's dark magic inside that place, even if it looks abandoned."

Harry glanced at his companions, both of whom he trusted implicitly. "Let's be quick. In and out. No mistakes."

They approached the shack cautiously, their footsteps crunching on the overgrown grass. Harry pushed the rotting door open with a slight creak, revealing a dim, filthy interior. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air.

"Charming," Sirius muttered, wrinkling his nose.

Harry's eyes swept the room, his gaze lingering on a small, broken table in the corner. On it sat a cracked wooden box. He knew what was inside.

"There," he whispered, pointing.

Edgar stepped forward, but Harry held out a hand to stop him. "Wait."

The air shimmered with lingering enchantments. Wards—strong, ancient magic—guarded the ring.

"Clever bastard," Harry muttered, drawing his wand. "He layered it with traps."

"I assume you've dealt with worse?" Edgar asked, his tone dry.

Harry smirked. "Once or twice." He traced his wand through the air, murmuring a string of counter-spells under his breath. The wards flickered, then faded, leaving only silence behind.

"Now," Harry said, stepping forward. He opened the box carefully, revealing the ring—a blackened piece of jewellery with a strange, cracked stone. Even from a distance, the pull of its dark magic was palpable.

Sirius leaned closer, eyes wide. "That's it?"

Harry nodded, wrapping the ring in a piece of cloth before tucking it into his pocket. "That's it."

"Now what?" Edgar asked as they exited the shack, the cold wind cutting through them once more.

"Now, we destroy it."

Back at Blackwood Manor the fire crackled warmly in the study as Harry placed the ring on the table. Sirius and Edgar watched silently as he retrieved the enchanted amulet Croaker had given him—a golden, rune-inscribed pendant designed to counter and destroy Horcruxes.

"This will work?" Sirius asked, his voice hushed.

Harry nodded. "It should. The amulet channels pure magical energy into the Horcrux, severing the soul fragment and rendering it powerless."

Edgar leaned in, his expression serious. "And if it doesn't?"

Harry's eyes hardened. "It will."

He slipped the amulet over his head, the runes glowing faintly as it activated. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the pendant to the ring.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the room erupted with sound—a deafening screech that made Sirius clap his hands over his ears. Dark smoke billowed from the ring, twisting and writhing like a living creature.

"Hold steady!" Edgar called out, his wand drawn just in case.

Harry gritted his teeth, holding the amulet firmly in place. The dark smoke screamed and twisted, lashing out as if trying to escape, but the runes on the amulet flared brighter, burning away the soul fragment piece by piece.

With a final, agonised wail, the smoke dissolved into nothingness. The ring cracked and crumbled to dust.

It was done.

Harry let out a long breath, removing the amulet and setting it down. "One down."

Sirius grinned, his eyes shining with excitement. "That was incredible!"

Edgar clapped Harry on the back. "Good work. But we've got more to find."

Harry nodded, his gaze steady. "Yes. But tonight, we've taken a step closer."

He picked up the amulet, staring at the glowing runes. "We're going to finish this. One Horcrux at a time."

And as the fire crackled, warming the room, the three of them shared a rare moment of hope.

O – o – o - o

As Harry continued to balanced his work as a professor and his secret missions, his connection with Amelia Bones grew stronger by the day. Nightly dinners became a ritual, a sacred time where they could unwind and simply be themselves. Sometimes the children would join them, filling Harry's quarters with laughter and warmth. But on other nights, it was just the two of them.

After the plates were cleared away and the fire crackled in the hearth, their evenings often ended in heated embraces on the sofa. For Harry, it was both exhilarating and grounding. Amelia's touch, her kisses—everything about her felt like coming home.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. Years ago, as a nervous teenager, he had marvelled at Amelia's poise and experience, convinced her confidence came from her age. Now, as the older man, he realised it wasn't her years but simply who she was—passionate, bold, and utterly captivating.

Amelia, for her part, found herself drawn to Harry in ways that surprised her. His knowledge, his quiet strength, and his unwavering dedication to protecting others were qualities she couldn't resist. On Saturdays, when they practiced battle magic together, she was continually amazed by his expertise.

"You're holding back," she accused one day, narrowing her eyes at him.

Harry grinned, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I would never."

"Liar," she said, stepping closer. "You're testing me. I'll prove I can handle whatever you throw at me."

The sheer intensity in her voice left Harry momentarily speechless. "You're beautiful when you're riled up," he murmured.

Amelia arched a brow, smirking. "I'm always beautiful. But don't think flattery will distract me. Show me what you've got, Blackwood."

Sundays were their quiet time, often spent walking around the Hogwarts grounds. The children played nearby, their laughter echoing across the lake as they splashed around with the giant squid. Harry and Amelia would talk—about magical theory, their hopes for the future, and the challenges they faced. Harry would often help her study. Amelia quickly learned that he was just as proficient in the other subjects as he was in defence. She had yet been able to find a question he couldn't answer. She found that both invigorating and frustrating.

On some weekends, they visited Bones Manor, where Edgar and his wife always greeted them warmly. Edgar had recently shared the happy news that his wife was expecting, and Amelia's joy for her brother was palpable.

It was on one of these weekends in early April that everything changed. Amelia leaned against Harry's chest, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her waist as they sat by the lake. The Sunday afternoon air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers from the nearby grounds. The children's laughter echoed as they splashed near the water's edge, delighting in the lazy play of the giant squid's tentacles.

Harry's steady breathing against her back and the rhythmic cadence of his page-turning soothed her nerves, though her heart was racing for a different reason entirely. The warmth of his body, the quiet strength in his embrace—it was everything she hadn't known she was missing.

Over the past few months, their relationship had deepened in ways Amelia hadn't thought possible. Their dates, whether to Hogsmeade or more secluded spots, had been moments of pure joy. With the children or without, each outing felt like a step closer to something she was starting to crave as much as air.

And the nights… Oh, the nights. Their stolen hours together in the quiet of his quarters had grown increasingly intense. Harry's kisses set her skin ablaze, his touch making her feel alive in ways she hadn't thought herself capable of.

But it wasn't just physical. With every look, every smile, every softly spoken word, Harry unraveled her, making her feel seen and cherished in a way no one ever had before.

By now, Amelia could barely control herself when they were alone. Her thoughts often strayed to places she hadn't dared explore before. She could tell Harry was holding back, letting her set the pace, and she was grateful. Yet, that restraint only made her want him more. She could sense his desire, the passion he kept tightly bottled, and it made her imagination run wild.

The problem was, she'd never been with anyone before—not like that. Richard's stolen kisses in broom closets had been thrilling at the time, but they paled in comparison to the fire Harry ignited in her with just a glance.

She trusted Harry completely, but the idea of taking that next step still left her feeling both exhilarated and nervous. She didn't want to disappoint him, didn't want to seem inexperienced or unsure. But the thought of waiting any longer was becoming unbearable.

As she leaned further into Harry, the weight of his hand on her waist grounding her, she realised she couldn't keep holding back. She loved him. Deeply. Unquestionably. She probably had for months now, but it was in this quiet moment, with the sun shining off the lake and the children's laughter ringing in the air, that the truth hit her like a tidal wave.

She loved Harry.

Her heart swelled with the realisation, but with it came a flicker of doubt. Could she give herself fully to a man who carried so many scars, so many secrets? His life was a tapestry of shadows and mysteries, and though he'd shared pieces of it with her, there was still so much she didn't know.

But then she tilted her head slightly, just enough to glance up at him. His expression was calm, his focus absorbed in the book he held, but there was a softness in his features, a quiet contentment that matched her own.

Love wasn't about having all the answers, she realised. It wasn't about perfection or certainty. It was about standing beside someone, choosing them every day despite the unknowns.

For Amelia, the choice was simple. She loved Harry, and now, she just needed to tell him. With that realisation, the nervousness about what came next melted away. She trusted Harry—with her heart, her body, her future.

And now, she was ready to take the next step. Together. 'I'll tell him how I feel, and then demand he take me to bed. Tomorrow night after dinner. The kids will be with Edgar, it's the perfect time.' She thought resolutely.

That evening the atmosphere in Harry's quarters was warm and inviting, filled with the soft glow of candlelight and the scent of roasted vegetables and freshly baked bread. Laughter rang out as Amelia leaned forward to cut a piece of pie for Sirius, who was eagerly waiting with his plate in hand.

"Careful now," she teased. "You've had two slices already."

Sirius grinned cheekily. "I'm a growing boy, Miss Bones!"

Harry chuckled from across the table, his heart full as he watched Amelia interact with his children - their children. Eddie and Lily were seated on either side of her, hanging on her every word, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

After dinner, Amelia began to gather the plates, but Harry gently took them from her hands.

"I've got it," he said softly. "Why don't you relax for a moment?"

Amelia smiled, her cheeks warming. "You cooked, I can at least help clean."

Harry shook his head. "No, tonight is for you."

Amelia's heart fluttered at the tenderness in his voice.

After the dishes were cleared, Harry stood and stretched. "All right, you three. Time for bed."

"Already?" Sirius pouted.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes, already. Go on."

The children groaned in unison but obediently shuffled toward the bedroom. As Harry followed behind them, Lily turned back and looked at Amelia with wide eyes.

"Miss Bones, will you tuck us in?"

Amelia froze, her breath catching in her throat. "What?"

"Please?" Lily asked, her voice hopeful. "You tell the best stories. And I'm sure you sing better than Dad."

Harry laughed. "Well, that's true." He looked back at Amelia, his eyes soft with affection. "What do you say?"

Amelia hesitated, overwhelmed by the unexpected request. Her heart swelled with emotion as she saw the hopeful expressions on the children's faces.

"I—yes. Of course," she said, her voice catching slightly.

Lily beamed and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the bedrooms.

Several minutes later Harry lingered outside the door, leaning against the frame as Amelia knelt beside Eddie's side of the bed, smoothing the blankets over him.

"Do you want a story?" she asked softly

"Yes, please!" the children chorused.

Amelia sat on the edge of the bed and began weaving a tale about a brave knight and a clever witch who outwitted a dragon. Her voice was steady and soothing, captivating the children as they hung on every word.

Harry watched from the doorway, his chest tightening. It felt so natural, so right, seeing her there with his children.

Amelia finished the story, and Lily tugged at her sleeve. "Will you sing for us?"

Amelia's breath hitched. "Sing?"

"Please?" Sirius asked, his eyes sleepy.

Amelia smiled softly, smoothing back Lily's hair. "All right."

Harry's heart clenched as she began to hum a familiar melody—the same lullaby Amelia used to sing to the children every night in his original timeline.

Her voice was gentle, wrapping the room in a blanket of warmth and love. The children's eyes fluttered closed, their breathing evening out as they drifted into peaceful sleep.

Harry stayed rooted to the spot, his heart aching with bittersweet longing. Watching Amelia with the children—her children, even if she didn't know it yet—felt like coming home.

As the final notes of the lullaby faded, Amelia leaned down and kissed each child's forehead. She stood quietly and turned toward the door, catching Harry's gaze.

Their eyes met, the air thick with unspoken emotion.

"They're asleep," she whispered.

Harry nodded, stepping into the room. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Thank you."

Amelia rested her head on his shoulder. "For what?"

"For loving them," Harry murmured. "For being here."

Amelia pulled back to look at him, her eyes shining with emotion. "There is nowhere else I would rather be."

He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips then took her hand and led her back to the living room.

"Would you like a drink?" Harry asked, his voice warm and inviting.

"That would be great, thank you."

"Wine?"

Amelia nodded, and Harry moved gracefully to the cabinet, selecting a bottle and pouring two glasses. She watched him, unable to stop the way her eyes lingered on his hands, his sure movements.

He brought the drinks over, placing hers on the table in front of her. "Here you go."

"Thank you." Amelia took a sip, savouring the rich flavour. She glanced at the bag she had brought, guilt tugging at her. "I should study," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Harry leaned back in his chair, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "By all means," he said, gesturing to the sofa with a slight nod.

Amelia hesitated, her fingers brushing the spine of the textbook inside her bag. She didn't really want to study, not when the room was so cozy, the wine so good, and Harry so close. But still… she should.

With a quiet sigh, she pulled the book out and settled on the sofa, opening it to a random page. Moments later Harry settled at the other end of the sofa with a book of his own. Amelia read a couple of pages but found herself going over the same paragraph a third time because her mind was occupied by the man beside her. She glanced sideways at him and studied the way his messy hair poked out at odd angles, the way his shirt was just tight enough to show the definition in his arms. She guessed that he felt her eyes on him, because he turned his head and smiled.

"You're staring." He looked at her for a moment before angling into the corner of the sofa and raising his arm toward her without saying another word. Amelia picked her feet up onto the cushion and scooted back until she rested against his chest. He closed his arm around her, kissed the top of her head, and continued with his book.

Three more pages into her book, and she felt him lay his cheek against her hair and began smoothing his thumb over her upper arm. The rest of his hand soon joined in, while her fingertips lightly slid across his forearm. The warmth of anticipation, the knowledge that they were crossing into something more tingled through her body. She shivered slightly as he let his arm slide lower until it rested across the tops of her breasts, and he continued to caress her arm. They both still held their books in one hand, but gave up any pretence of reading.

Amelia inhaled deeply, the heat of his arm laid across her breasts took her breath away. They had been flirting and pushing the boundaries all day, but in public where things could only go so far. Alone in the quiet of his quarters, the only boundary that existed was the challenge of who would make the first definitive move, and when. Her stomach fluttered in that unique way that only happens when a love is about to become a lover, and the body hums with intimacy imagined but unrealised.

"I was wondering something," said Amelia quietly.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"Do you think the children could stay over at my brother's tomorrow night?" He looked over at her and she was surprised to see a slight flush in his cheeks. 'Oh, so he does blush.'

"I think that can be arranged."

Silently, she handed him her book, and he laid hers with his on the side table. With one arm still across her chest, he stretched the other down her back and his fingers over her hip. She settled into the support of his arms and tilted her head toward him.

Amelia raised her hand to grip his neck, causing his hand to slip to her breast. He left it there and lowered his head to hers, meeting her tongue with his own before their lips even touched. With a surge of desire, she gripped him tighter as he massaged her nipple with his palm.

She bent one knee as she leaned into him, and her skirt slid halfway up her thigh. Cool air across her skin added to the chills caused by his touch, and Amelia moaned as she sucked the tip of his tongue. She pushed herself into his lap and curled her knees up, hoping he would accept the invitation of her exposed legs. Never one to disappoint her, he skimmed his hand from her breast over her abdomen and down the outside of her thigh. His skin was slightly rough, his hand large and powerful but tender and gentle with love.

Harry traced her leg back up under her dress to her buttock, kneading the taut muscle through her panties. At the feel of her skin, her soft lips on his, and her tongue exploring his mouth, his erection grew and throbbed uncomfortably. He pulled her closer so that her hip pressed against him, both providing some relief and intensifying his ache for her.

Just as Harry's fingers brushed the buttons at the back of Amelia's dress, the fireplace flared to life, green flames licking at the hearth.

They sprang apart as Edgar's face appeared in the fire, looking far too amused.

"Harry, can I come through? It's quite urgent."

Harry took a steadying breath, forcing calm into his voice despite the thunderous beating of his heart. "Of course."

He adjusted his clothing as Edgar stepped through the flames, his eyes immediately landing on Amelia. Her dress was slightly askew, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing still uneven. Edgar's lips twitched into a smirk.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, though the amusement in his tone suggested otherwise.

Amelia crossed her arms, doing her best to appear composed. "It's fine."

Harry, ever the diplomat, smiled smoothly. "Besides, Edgar's already promised to make it up to me tomorrow evening by keeping the children overnight."

Edgar raised an eyebrow and glanced between them. "Indeed. Though it seems you two were already… quite busy." His eyes gleamed with mischief.

Amelia groaned, her blush deepening. "Edgar, please."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Let's get to it. What's so urgent?"

Edgar's expression sobered immediately. "There's a meeting—right now—at the graveyard. We've confirmed several high-ranking Death Eaters are attending. We need to move."

Harry's demeanour changed in an instant, his usual calm exterior hardening into something more resolute. He nodded, already reaching for his cloak.

"I'm sorry, Amelia," he said softly, turning to her. "I have to go."

She met his gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I understand. What about the children?"

"Dumbledore usually watches them when I'm called away."

Amelia's brow furrowed. "So you leave often in the middle of the night?"

Harry winced at the pointed question. "I do."

Her expression softened, though her arms remained crossed. "I'll stay with the children tonight. But when you return, you'll explain everything."

Harry's lips curved into a fond smile, admiration flickering in his eyes. "Of course."

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning in to kiss her. The kiss was firm, lingering, a promise of more to come.

When he pulled away, he turned to Edgar, who stood by the fire with a knowing grin.

"I'll see you on the other side," Harry said.

Edgar nodded but didn't move. His gaze drifted back to Amelia, his smirk returning.

Amelia threw him a glare. "Shut up and go."

Edgar raised his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

Laughing, Edgar stepped into the fire. And then he was gone, leaving Amelia alone with the flickering firelight and the faint echoes of Harry's kiss lingering on her lips.

O – o – o – o

The air was thick with tension as Harry and Edgar crouched behind a thicket on the outskirts of Little Hangleton. The crumbling gravestones of the village cemetery cast long shadows in the moonlight, but Harry's attention was fixed on the figures gathered in a small clearing. His grip tightened on his wand as he whispered a Disillusionment Charm, the magic rippling over him like a second skin, rendering him invisible.

Edgar, still cloaked in shadow, nudged Harry. "Careful," he murmured. "We don't know what we're dealing with yet."

Tom Riddle stood at the centre of the gathering, his pale face illuminated by a faint, eerie glow. He radiated an air of cold authority that made the Death Eaters surrounding him bow their heads in silent reverence. Harry strained to hear as Riddle began speaking, his voice a low, silken whisper that nonetheless carried an undeniable edge of menace.

"In two days time, we put our plan into motion. Bellatrix, Lucius, you will come with me to Little Hangleton with the new recruits. We will test their abilities on the village," Riddle declared, his tone growing more forceful. His piercing eyes gleamed like shards of ice in the dim light. "The rest of you will distribute yourselves among the other locations. We will be swift and brutal. It will serve as both a demonstration of our power and a warning to those foolish enough to oppose us. You have two days to make your plans. Do not disappoint me."

Harry's stomach churned. The calculated malice in Riddle's voice sent a shiver down his spine. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still as his heart hammered against his ribs.

"We'll raze each village to the ground if need be," Riddle continued, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "No one defies the inevitable rise of the Dark Lord."

Harry had heard enough. Slipping silently away, he found Edgar waiting for him a safe distance from the meeting.

"The attacks will happen in two nights time," Harry whispered urgently. "Voldemort himself will be at Little Hangleton. We need to stop him."

Edgar's eyes darkened. "We'll need backup. What's the plan?"

Harry's mind raced, already formulating a strategy. "We tell Dumbledore first thing tomorrow. It is time for the order to have its first meeting. And then… we gather our allies."

Amelia sat on the sofa, her mind racing as Harry returned from the fireplace, dusting soot from his cloak. He looked exhausted but resolute, and as he met her gaze, she saw a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a burden he'd been carrying alone for too long.

"Tell me everything," Amelia said softly.

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Edgar and I have been working together for some time now. Late evenings are when Voldemort and his followers are most active. It's when we've been able to gather the most intelligence. And we've been doing more than just watching." He locked eyes with her, his voice steady. "We've been destroying his Horcruxes."

Amelia gasped. "Horcruxes?"

Harry nodded grimly. "Objects that contain pieces of his soul. They keep him anchored to life, even if his body is destroyed. He can't truly be defeated until they're all gone."

"Merlin," Amelia whispered, horrified. "And you've been doing this all year?"

"Just this term. It's the only way to stop him for good, but I needed time to get my bearings first and figure out who I could trust. Tonight's meeting at the graveyard confirmed something we suspected— he's planning an attack."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Why? Why go to all this trouble? Why put so much of this burden on yourself?"

Harry's expression darkened, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Because he's responsible for my wife's death among many other reasons."

"I want to help you," Amelia said, her voice firm. "Don't tell me some nonsense about wanting to protect me. If you're letting Edgar be part of this, you can't deny me."

Harry sighed, clearly torn. "Amelia…"

"No," she interrupted. "I'm serious. I can help."

He studied her for a long moment before giving a reluctant nod. "Very well. But only if it's really necessary—"

Amelia opened her mouth to argue, but Harry pressed a finger gently to her lips, silencing her.

"Just until you finish Hogwarts," he said softly. "I would never forgive myself for disrupting your education. Once you've graduated, you can accompany me on every mission, if that's what you want."

Amelia sighed but nodded. "Fine. Deal."

Harry smiled faintly. "What Edgar and I found tonight is big. Bigger than anything we've uncovered so far. We're going to need to bring in a few others we trust."

"Who?"

"Dumbledore, for one, along with his order. And a few select people I trust. But I want you in the loop. Meet me in the Defense classroom tomorrow after dinner finishes in the great hall, and I'll share everything we know about the attack."

Amelia gathered her things, her heart still pounding from everything she'd just learned.

"Okay," she said, her voice softer now.

Harry walked her to the door, his hand lingering on hers. "Good night, Amelia."

"Good night, Harry."

Before she could leave, he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. It was gentle, lingering just long enough to make her heart flutter.

As she stepped out into the corridor, Amelia couldn't help but smile. She had just stepped into something far bigger than she ever imagined—but she wouldn't back down. Not now. Not ever.