Chapter 16

31st of August, 1991
Dumbledore Manor

Dumbledore ruffled Harry's hair one more time, a tender gesture that brought a wide grin to the boy's face. "I'll see you at tomorrow's feast, Harry. Your first time at Hogwarts will be unforgettable. I have no doubt that you will find it to be a place of wonder and learning, full of new friends and exciting adventures. Just watch out for the gigantic Cerberus guarding the third floor corridor and, of course, try to avoid any snakes that can kill people with their gaze. But other than that, you'll be just fine!"

Harry looked up at Dumbledore with wide eyes, his excitement mixed with a hint of confusion. "Thank you, Professor Dude-buldore! I can't wait to see everything and meet everyone... though I'll definitely try to avoid those creatures."

As Harry scampered off, Dumbledore turned to Nymmy, a playful glint in his eye. "Nymmy, take care of our young wizard here. Tomorrow will be a big day for him," he said with a wink. The gesture caused her to blush furiously, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson.

Andromeda stepped forward, her demeanor formal and respectful. "Thank you very much for your time and your counsel, Warlock Dumbledore. Your wisdom and guidance are always deeply appreciated," she said, bowing slightly. "I cannot express how much your support means to me and my family."

He waved a hand dismissively, a warm smile on his lips. "It's nothing, Andromeda. Truly, it's the least I can do for someone of your caliber and importance." he replied. Yet both of them knew he lied, and that it was not nothing.

He watched them leave, his gaze lingering on Andromeda's backside. Her hips swayed with a natural grace, the curve of her ample buttocks moving enticingly beneath her form-fitting dress. The fabric of her dress clung to her curves, highlighting the generous swell of her buttocks as they moved rhythmically with her stride. Her laced heels clicked softly against the floor, the sound mingling with the gentle rustle of her dress.

As they reached the Floo Point, Andromeda cast one last glance over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Dumbledore's with a hint of something unspoken. "Until we meet again, Warlock Dumbledore," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of respect and something deeper. Then, with a swirl of emerald flames, she, Harry and Nymphadora disappeared.

Dumbledore stood there for a moment, his mind replaying the recent events - and he was not thinking at all about Andromeda's amazing ass. Not at all. He turned and made his way to the entrance hall. With a final glance at the now-empty salon, he stepped into the vanishing cabinet. Moments later, he emerged in his office at Hogwarts, the familiar surroundings of his sanctuary welcoming him.

He had the mysterious box to check again.

1st of September, 1991
Platform 9¾

Andromeda and Harry stepped through the magical barrier at King's Cross Station, emerging onto the bustling Platform 9¾. The air was filled with the sounds of children chattering, owls hooting, and trunks being hauled onto the Hogwarts Express. Nymphadora was at the Auror Training Center, as she was every Monday, leaving Andromeda to escort Harry alone.

Harry clung to Andromeda's side, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Whispered conversations followed them, fingers discreetly pointing at the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. Sensing his discomfort, Andromeda squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It's alright, Harry," she murmured. "You're safe with me."

For the first time in public, she hadn't disguised his scar. Today was his formal introduction to the wizarding world. She noticed the Weasley family watching from a distance, their curiosity evident. As they navigated the crowded platform, fate played a cruel hand. They arrived just as her sister Narcissa, her husband Lucius, and their son Draco appeared. The Malfoys stood out with their pristine robes and aristocratic air. Lucius's robes were made of the finest silk, shimmering subtly in the light. Narcissa, in robes of deep navy, exuded an icy elegance, her expression one of detached disdain. Draco, in robes that mirrored his father's, looked every bit the young aristocrat, though his curiosity about Harry was barely concealed. She snorted looking at the stupid face of her sister's son - she refused to think of him as a nephew. That term was for Harry.

Normally, Andromeda would ignore her sister in public, but Lucius was another matter. Professionally, they sometimes crossed paths, and civility was a necessary facade. Lucius's eyes widened momentarily at the sight of Harry Potter, but he quickly masked his surprise with a sly smile. He approached them with a smooth, calculated gait. "Andromeda, what a delightful surprise," he drawled. "And Mr. Potter, in your esteemed company."

"Lucius," Andromeda replied coolly, nodding at her sister. "Narcissa. Draco."

Narcissa's gaze remained fixed on the ground, her face a mask of cold indifference. Draco's eyes darted curiously to Harry, but he said nothing - probably too intimidated by his own father. Lucius, however, was relentless. "May I inquire as to the nature of Harry Potter's presence with you today? Quite an intriguing development."

Andromeda met his gaze. "Harry is my nephew, Lucius, and I've been taking care of him. Any further details should be discussed with Warlock Dumbledore - though I would understand would you rather not talk with him, after your last…public conversation."

Lucius masked a scowl and arched an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "Nephew, indeed. By extension, that makes me an uncle as well. Family ties do create the most fascinating entanglements."

Then, he recognized the cut of Andromeda's witch robes. The finely woven fabric draped elegantly over her figure, hinting at the traditional Black family style, even without the crest. The deep emerald color complemented her dark hair and fair skin. Lucius's eyes lingered on her attire. "I see you're wearing traditional Black family robes, even if the crest is absent. I graciously allow you to don them, considering our family's... complex history."

A scowl flickered across Andromeda's face. "You are not the acting head of the family, Lucius, and neither is whichever. You may have ambitions for Draco, but he cannot claim that position until he is of age. I'll wear whatever robes I want to wear."

Lucius's smile tightened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. Turning to Harry, her voice softened. "Come, Harry, we should be on our way."

1st of September, 1991
Platform 9¾

Fred and George Weasley stood on Platform 9¾, faces masks of exaggerated innocence, which on them looked more like two cherubs caught red-handed in the biscuit tin. The rest of the Weasley family bustled about in their usual chaos: Percy, who looked like he had a permanent rod up his spine, was preening over his Head Boy badge; Ron, who seemed determined to shrink into his second-hand clothes; and Ginny, glaring at the train as if sheer willpower could age her a year overnight - she wanted to go to Hogwarts too!

Mrs. Weasley, hands on hips and eyes narrowed to slits, zeroed in on the twins. "Now, boys, I want you to behave this year. No more pranking Professor Trelawney."

Fred put on his most angelic expression, which, given his freckles, resembled a mischievous leprechaun. "Of course, Mum. We'll refrain from transfiguring her hat into a flobberworm. Strictly a one-time educational experiment."

Mrs. Weasley's gaze turned to George. "And no setting off dungbombs in the Great Hall during dinner."

George raised his hand as if taking a solemn oath. "Absolutely not, Mum. We've evolved. Our experiments will be confined to breakfast."

Mrs. Weasley's mouth twitched between a smile and a scowl. "And no enchanting the suits of armor to do the Macarena."

"Perish the thought! We'd never repeat a performance. We were thinking of the cha-cha slide."

"And for Merlin's sake, no bewitching the toilet seats to play 'Ride of the Valkyries' when someone sits down - and make it play lower and lower if the person is fat."

"We've matured, Mum. Toilets are for sitting, not for spontaneous Wagnerian opera."

"And don't charm the cauldrons to sing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' each time Snape takes points during Potions class so he will get annoyed and stop doing so."

Fred and George exchanged a conspiratorial look. "That's actually a brilliant idea,"

"But one we've never done," George added quickly. "Not until now, anyway."

Mrs. Weasley sighed, looking like she'd aged ten years in five minutes. "And no turning the portraits into giant noses."

"That was one time!" they chorused, looking wounded.

"Just promise me you'll try to stay out of trouble."

"We promise, Mum," they said together, planting synchronized kisses on her cheeks, their grins wide and undeniably roguish.

The train's whistle blew, and Fred and George heaved their trunks aboard, navigating the bustling corridors with practiced ease. Fred nudged George and nodded toward a nearby compartment where a striking woman was assisting a young boy with his luggage. It was Andromeda Tonks, née Black. Her witch's robes, though covering her from neck to ankle, clung to her curves in a way that was impossible to ignore. The fabric hugged her hourglass figure, especially around her ample breasts and rounded hips, with a snugness that bordered on scandalous. The neckline dipped just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of cleavage, showing that she wore no bra, her nipples subtly outlined against the fabric.

Her dark, glossy hair cascaded in luxurious waves down her back, contrasting sharply with her porcelain skin. A few loose strands framed her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and full, red lips that looked invitingly soft and plump. Her deep hazel eyes sparkled with a mix of wisdom and mischief, framed by long, dark lashes. As she bent slightly to adjust the boy's trunk, the movement emphasized the elegant arch of her back and the firm, shapely roundness of her ass. The slit in her robes revealed a toned calf and a flash of her shapely ankle, encased in stylish, heeled boots that accentuated her legs.

The subtle scent of jasmine and sandalwood wafted through the air, creating an intoxicating aura around her. Her fingers, adorned with simple, elegant rings, moved with grace and precision as she helped the boy. Her nails, perfectly manicured and painted a deep crimson, added a touch of glamour to her every gesture. A delicate silver necklace rested against her collarbone, drawing attention to her graceful neck and the smooth skin there. The gentle sway of her hips as she moved was mesmerizing, and a small, tasteful tattoo peeked out from beneath the edge of her sleeve. Fred and George exchanged a look, their eyes wide with appreciation and a hint of teenage awe.

"Blimey, she's a bit of alright, isn't she?" Fred whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

"A bit of alright? She's a living fantasy," George murmured back. "Reckon she knows it too."

Her full lips, painted a deep crimson, curved into a smile that could melt stone. Her eyes, a hypnotic shade of blue, met Fred's and George's with a teasing sparkle. She knew the effect she had on people and seemed to relish it.

They approached, trying to look casual and failing miserably. "Need a hand with that trunk, mate?" Fred offered, voice cracking slightly.

Harry grinned, blissfully unaware of their internal turmoil. "No thanks, Aunt Andromeda enchanted it. It's weightless."

George scowled. "Well, that's no fun at all."

Fred crossed his arms. "Takes all the challenge out of it, doesn't it?"

With that, they shuffled away, grumbling under their breaths, and found an empty compartment. Collapsing onto the seats, they pulled out candies they had discretely lifted from Draco Malfoy's stash, their mood improving with each bite. eFred unwrapped a sweet and popped it into his mouth, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Right, what's the plan for this year?"

George leaned back, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I was thinking we start small. Maybe charm Snape's robes to change color every time he sneers."

Fred nodded thoughtfully. "But he sneers to mucH. Think about the epileptic firsties… We could transfigure the Slytherin common room furniture into inflatable flamingos."

"Good one, but too basic" George said, laughing. "How about we turn the staircases into slides during dinner rush?"

"Classic," Fred agreed. "Or enchant Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, to yodel every time she sees a student out of bed."

They continued to plot, their ideas growing more elaborate and ridiculous with each passing minute. Fred was mid-sentence, when the train lurched and began its journey. The rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks created a comforting background to their mischievous machinations. Their laughter echoed through the compartment, the absurdity of their plans only fueling their creativity. As they debated the merits of taking the risk of pranking Snape, the King of Greasy hair himself, the door slid open with a dramatic whoosh.

Standing in the doorway was an impossibly colorful figure, dressed in a tight red and black suit with a mask that covered his entire face. He struck a ridiculous pose, one hand on his hip, the other pointing a finger gun at the ceiling. Then, with a flourish, he spun around and did a little jig before stopping in an exaggerated stance, arms spread wide.

"Alright, you little wand-waving hooligans!" the figure announced, "I am Deadpool, your new security guy, hired by Albus Fucking Dumbledore himself. Surprise!"

Fred and George blinked in unison.

"Who are you supposed to be again?" George asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Deadpool," the man repeated, stepping into the compartment and plopping himself onto the seat opposite them, sprawling across it as if he owned the place. He pulled out a banana from seemingly nowhere and started peeling it with exaggerated motions. "The baddest, most kickass security detail this train has ever seen. Well, the only one, but…Here to protect, serve, and drop a few F-bombs if necessary. Want a bite?" He waved the banana in their faces.

"Why are you wearing a mask?" Fred asked.

Deadpool leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though his face remained visible behind the mask. "Because I'm ugly as hell, kid. Like, my face could make a Dementor take a holiday. And, technically, I don't have a face. You see, I'm not exactly human." He punctuated his statement by making a spooky 'wooooo' sound and wiggling his fingers.

The twins exchanged a horrified glance. "Not human?" George whispered, his mind racing. "Maybe he's a vampire!"

"Or a werewolf!" Fred suggested, eyes wide.

"Or worse, an inferius!" George's voice was barely more than a squeak.

Deadpool burst out laughing, a sound that was equal parts jolly and maniacal. He stood up and started doing jumping jacks. "Oh, you kids kill me! Nah, nothing so glamorous or undead. I'm a golem. An alchemical construct, whipped up in a cauldron by old Dumbles himself. You know, transmutation circles, mystical chants, and a dash of 'fuck! ! I overcooked it while watching hentai!'"

"A golem?" Fred said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Never heard of a golem that talks."

"That's because I'm the deluxe model," Deadpool said, tapping the side of his head and then doing a cartwheel. "Top of the line. Comes with sarcasm, a high pain threshold, a complete disregard for personal space - and fucking katanas. Now, I'm looking for someone. Goes by the name of Ron Weasley."

"Ron?" George said, eyebrows shooting up. "What do you want with our little brother?"

Deadpool leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head, then suddenly doing the splits. "Classified. Top secret. If I told you, I'd have to hex you into next week. Even though I cannot cast spells. SO I'll have to make you into skewers. And nobody wants that. So, why don't you point me in the right direction, and we can all go back to our delightful little lives of magical mischief and mayhem?"

Fred and George exchanged another look. Ron was boorish, but he was still their little brother. "He's around here somewhere," Fred said slowly. "But why do you need to talk to him? If you don't answer…"

"Cute…They are protective of their baby Brother ! But don't worry!", Deadpool assured them, waving a hand dismissively while doing the moonwalk. "Just heard he's got a pet that's against the rules - and I'm actually programmed to make sure the rules are respected", he lied. " And the rules says : A cat, a toad, or an owl - not 'a fugly rat' or 'a manticore". So I need to have a little chat with him about it."

The twins, still a bit wary but their worries gone nodded. "Alright," Gred said. "But no funny business with Ron. He's got enough to worry about as it is."

Deadpool gave them a two-finger salute. "Scout's honor! Now, off to find Ronny boy. You two stay out of trouble. Or don't. I'm not your mum. I don't give a fuck" He then cartwheeled out of the compartment, leaving Fred and George staring after him in stunned silence.

"Well," Forge said finally, breaking the silence. "That was… something."

Gred nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. "Think he's really a golem?"

"Dunno," Forge said, scratching his head. "But if he is truly obligated to make us stick to the rules, we're going to have a problem with our pranking. A never sleeping golem ? Fuck…"