Chapter 1 – A second chance
A cold wind howled through the decrepit manor, its once-proud stone walls now crumbling under the weight of time and dark magic. Harry Potter, now 24, moved like a shadow, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. His heart thudded in his chest, a relentless rhythm that pushed him forward. Somewhere in this labyrinth of decay were his children, Edgar and Liliana, and he would burn the world to get them back.
The Death Eaters had taken them two days ago. Two days of agony, fear, and relentless searching. Harry had followed the trail through muddy forests and barren fields, his mind haunted by their terrified faces. Every second they were gone, he felt his sanity unraveling further.
Reaching the iron gate of the manor, Harry froze. Two cloaked figures patrolled the perimeter, their wands casting faint glows in the dark. He crouched low, his years of training kicking in. A distraction was needed. Muttering a charm under his breath, he sent a faint rustling sound toward the far corner of the yard.
"Did you hear that?" one of the guards muttered, stepping away to investigate.
Harry took his chance. He moved swiftly, disabling the remaining guard with a silent stupefy before slipping inside.
The interior of the manor was suffocating, its corridors twisting and turning like a living maze. The air was thick with the smell of damp and decay, and the faint echo of laughter—dark and cruel—sent chills down Harry's spine.
As he crept through the halls, he came across another group of Death Eaters. They were gathered in a dilapidated parlour, discussing plans that Harry didn't care to hear. He moved past them as quietly as he could, but one of the floorboards betrayed him, creaking under his weight.
"Who's there?" barked a harsh voice.
Swearing under his breath, Harry turned, wand raised. The ensuing duel was brutal. Harry was outnumbered, but desperation made him fierce. He ducked a jet of green light, countering with a Reducto that sent one Death Eater flying into a wall. Spells ricocheted off the stone, and Harry narrowly avoided a curse that shattered a nearby chandelier.
Finally, he emerged victorious, the bodies of his enemies crumpled on the floor. He didn't have time to check if they were alive or dead. He pressed on, his breaths ragged.
After what felt like hours, Harry found them. Edgar and Liliana were huddled together in a small, damp cell, their faces pale and streaked with tears.
"Dad!" Edgar's voice broke as he saw Harry.
Harry rushed to them, his heart breaking at the sight. "It's okay. I've got you," he said, his voice trembling as he unlocked the cell and pulled them into his arms.
Liliana clung to him, her small body shaking. "We were so scared," she whispered.
"I know, Lily. I'm so sorry," Harry said, pressing a kiss to her hair.
But their escape wasn't over. Alarms began to sound, the manor coming alive with shouts and hurried footsteps. Harry grabbed his children's hands, his mind racing.
"Stay close. Don't let go of me," he instructed.
They navigated the manor's labyrinthine corridors, dodging more Death Eaters and barely escaping curses that flew too close for comfort. Harry fought like a man possessed, taking down enemies with precise, powerful spells.
Finally, they burst out into the freezing night air. Harry didn't stop running until they reached the safety of the nearby woods, where he activated a Portkey that whisked them home.
O – o – o - o
Back at Potter Manor, Harry tucked the children into their beds. They were exhausted, their eyes drooping even as they tried to stay awake.
"I knew you would find us Dad. I knew you would," whispered Edgar as he succumbed to sleep.
"Where's Mum?" Liliana asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
Harry froze, the question slicing through him like a blade. He knelt beside her bed, brushing her hair back gently. "Mum's... she's not here, Lily," he said, his voice cracking. "But I promise I'll keep you safe."
Liliana nodded, her eyes closing as sleep claimed her. Harry stayed by their side until their breathing evened out, his heart heavy with grief and guilt.
Later, in his study, Harry stared into the fire, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. His thoughts spiralled back to the day Amelia died. The attack on Hogsmeade had been swift and devastating. Harry had thought Voldemort was gone, but the spell he had cast at the last minute was a desperate attempt at a final Horcrux, pushing the last bit of his soul into an unsuspecting supporter. When his followers realised what had happened, they began the search for a ritual to bring him back. Eventually his host had been sacrificed and Voldemort had returned, more dangerous than ever, and with so little of his soul left completely crazy, which made him unpredictable. Amelia had fought bravely, but even she couldn't withstand the onslaught. Harry hadn't gotten there in time. With Amelia's death, Voldemort's reign of terror was renewed, and this time, the world believed he was invincible. The chaos was unimaginable; loyalty was demanded, or death was the penalty.
Harry poured himself another shot of firewhiskey, the burn of the liquid barely a distraction from the pain. Determined, he flooed to Narcissa and Snape's manor, a glimmer of hope igniting within him.
Narcissa met him at the hearth, her sharp gaze immediately assessing him. "I take it you were successful," she said, her voice calm but laced with curiosity.
"Yes. They're safe now," Harry replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "For how long? That's another question entirely."
She nodded, her expression grave. "What will you do next?"
Harry exhaled slowly, his shoulders tense. "What can I do?"
"You could run," she suggested, her tone devoid of judgment. "Take the children somewhere far away—perhaps the continent."
Harry shook his head, his jaw tightening. "I've never been a coward."
"No one would blame you," Narcissa said quietly, her eyes softening. "You have children to protect, Harry."
"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked, redirecting the conversation.
"He's asleep. I'll fetch him."
A few minutes later, Narcissa returned with Harry's five-year-old son cradled in her arms. Sirius's head rested on her shoulder, his soft breaths the only sound in the room. Carefully, she handed the sleeping boy to Harry.
"Be safe," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry nodded, his throat tight. Holding Sirius close, he stepped back into the floo and returned to his home.
After settling Sirius in his bed, Harry made his way to his study. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and the quiet of the room felt oppressive. When he stepped inside, however, he froze. Sitting at his desk was Croaker, his old mentor and friend, whose eyes were filled with urgency.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, his voice a mix of surprise and wariness.
"We need to fix this," Croaker replied without preamble, his tone urgent.
"Fix it? How? What does it matter? She's already dead," Harry sighed, pain lacing his words. "In case you forgot."
"I could never forget that. But Amelia was brilliant—she had contingency plans," Croaker said.
Harry chuckled darkly. "Of course she did. What would she have me do?"
"Go back."
"Back where?"
"To a time before he became unstoppable," Croaker said. "Before he made most of the Horcruxes. Before the war escalated. I developed something for Amelia just before her death. A way to destroy the Horcruxes without him knowing. You won't have the connection to use to your advantage this time, but he won't know who you are or where you come from, so if you play your cards right, you could end it before it can really begin."
"And the spell he used at the end?" Harry asked, his tone sharp with bitterness.
Croaker shook his head. "He won't even know it exists. He only sought it out when he realised you were destroying his Horcruxes. It was his last-ditch effort. This time, you'll dismantle his defences before he even realises there's a threat."
Harry crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Which Horcruxes are we talking about?"
"The diary, the ring, the locket, and the diadem," Croaker replied. "The ring is hidden in the Gaunt shack. The diadem is at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement. Lucius Malfoy's father currently holds the diary, and Voldemort himself carries the locket."
Harry's mouth twisted into a dry smirk. "Oh, is that all? Sounds like a walk in the park."
Croaker gave him a pointed look. "I didn't say it would be easy. But it will be possible—and this time, you'll have the element of surprise."
"What of my identity?" Croaker pulled a large envelope from his cloak and placed it on the desk. "Everything you need is in here. It's all legit and will be recognised by magic and the goblins. You'll have everything you need to get the job done. You'll be Lord Hector Blackwood, a respected nobleman known for his wisdom and strategic mind. The Blackwood family is one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in Britain. They own vast estates, including a grand manor in the countryside, and have a long history of supporting the Ministry of Magic and various influential figures. Known for their magical prowess, potions and apothecary empire, and deep connections within the wizarding world, the Blackwoods are respected and feared by many. At the time you'll go back to, the Blackwood family had been living abroad for several years, amassing wealth and knowledge from different magical cultures. In our reality, they never returned to Britain, in fact they disappeared all together, but nobody would bat an eye if Lord Blackwood did return to re-establish his roots and take up his rightful place among the wizarding elite. His return will be seen as a significant event, and he will no doubt be welcomed with open arms by many of the prominent wizarding families.
Harry's eyes hardened. "I won't leave my children."
Croaker nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to. Take them with you."
"Back in time?" Harry's voice was incredulous.
"Yes," Croaker said. "Find Edgar Bones, Amelia's brother. There's a letter in there for him. He'll help you."
Harry opened the envelope, revealing a set of detailed instructions and an intricately crafted time-turner, more powerful and complex than any he had seen before. There were also letters written in Amelia's handwriting, explaining the plan. Harry's heart ached at the familiar script.
The Blackwood Family
Names:
Edgar becomes Edward Blackwood, the intelligent and curious heir to the Blackwood estate.
Liliana becomes Lillian Blackwood, the charming and resourceful daughter, known for her kindness and wit.
Sirius becomes Samuel Blackwood, the youngest member of the family, full of energy and potential.
"What do I tell the children?"
"The truth. They're old enough to understand."
"And what about everyone else? They'll think I've run."
Croaker's voice was gentle but firm. "What does it matter? If you succeed, this timeline won't exist anymore."
"It matters to me," Harry said sharply.
Croaker sighed. "I understand. But you're running out of options. If you stay, they'll find you. And the children."
Harry stared at the documents for a long moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. Finally, he took a deep breath.
"Fine," he said, his voice steady. "What do I do?"
Croaker outlined the plan: they would use the enhanced time-turner to travel back several decades, to a time before Voldemort was at the height of power. They would need to find and destroy the diary, the ring, the locket and the diadem and then Tom Riddle before he could create any more Horcruxes. Edgar Bones, an accomplished and trustworthy wizard, would assist them in navigating this dangerous mission and would eagerly help with the children. It was up to him if wanted to include anyone else.
"You'll need to use the time-turner to arrive at a specific location and time. Follow the instructions carefully, and make sure to blend in. Avoid drawing attention to yourselves, and remember, the timeline is fragile. Any significant changes could have unforeseen consequences," Croaker warned.
O – o – o - o
The next morning, Harry and the children had a quiet breakfast, all still trying to deal with what had transpired the night before. Once everyone was dressed and had put a few small personal items into a suitcase that they didn't want to leave behind, Harry gathered his children in the living room. He explained the plan, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.
"We're going on a very important journey," he told them. "We're going back in time to stop Voldemort and save your mum."
Edgar and Liliana listened intently, their young faces serious.
"Will it be dangerous?" Edgar asked.
"Yes," Harry admitted. "But we'll face it together. Always together."
"And we'll get Mum back?" Liliana whispered.
Harry knelt, looking her in the eyes. "I'll do everything I can."
Sirius, still too young to fully understand, simply nodded, trusting his father completely.
"How far back are we going?" Asked Edgar.
"Far, before your mum finished Hogwarts. I can't tell you what to expect and it won't be easy, but we'll have each other. Just remember, no one can ever know who we really are, where we come from. We will have new identities and must be very careful to never give ourselves away."
Edgar and Liliana looked at him with wide eyes, their trust and bravery evident. "We understand, Dad. We won't let you down," Edgar said, his voice filled with resolve.
Harry hugged them tightly, feeling a surge of pride. "I never thought you would."
With their new identities as the Blackwood family prepared and the time-turner in hand, Harry activated the device. As the world spun and blurred around them, he held his children close, his heart filled with determination and something that vaguely resembled hope.
O – o – o - o
Summer 1973
The world stopped spinning abruptly, and Harry Potter found himself standing at the edge of a sprawling estate. Blackwood Manor loomed before them, its elegant façade both imposing and inviting. Tall, ivy-covered stone walls framed large, arched windows, and intricate wrought-iron gates stood sentinel before the grand entrance.
"Wow," whispered Liliana, her wide eyes taking in the grandeur of the manor. Edgar and Sirius stared in silent awe, clutching their father's hands tightly.
Harry took a steadying breath. "This is where it begins," he murmured, leading his children to the gates. A flick of his wand opened them, and they stepped onto the gravel path leading to the front door.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of cedar and old parchment. The walls were lined with portraits of stern-looking witches and wizards, their gazes sharp and assessing. The house was ready for its master, its magic humming faintly in welcome. But there was no time to explore.
"We need to blend in quickly," Harry said, his voice firm. "I guess the first stop should be Diagon Alley."
With that, he led his children to the Floo powder jar on the mantel, casting a quick spell to confirm its network was still active. Moments later, they disappeared in a flash of green flames.
The bustling heart of wizarding London greeted them with the familiar mix of laughter, chatter, and the faint clinking of shop bells. Harry's gaze swept over the cobblestone streets, noting the differences—the older shop signs, the simpler robes on passersby.
They stepped aside, careful not to attract attention. Harry bought a copy of the Daily Prophet from a passing vendor, scanning the date at the top: August 1, 1973.
"Thirty-one years," he murmured. His grip on the paper tightened briefly before he folded it and tucked it under his arm. "All right, to Gringotts."
The imposing marble building was the same as ever, its goblin guards watching them with sharp, calculating eyes. Inside, Harry approached the nearest desk, his voice calm but commanding.
"I am Lord Hector Blackwood. I require access to my family's accounts."
The goblin, whose nameplate read Ragnok, narrowed his eyes. "The Blackwood accounts have been dormant for years. You will need to prove your identity."
Harry handed over a sealed letter from Croaker, enchanted to bear all the necessary magical seals and signatures. Ragnok examined it closely before nodding.
"Two drops of blood, please." Harry pricked his finger and watched as the blood dripped into the basin, trying to not let his nerves get the best of him. The droplets swirled and spread for a moment and then there was a flash of light.
"Very well. Follow me." Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
Harry and the children were led to a private room where the accounts were reactivated and Harry was given the house ring. The goblin, clearly impressed by the vast wealth of the Blackwood estate, offered his services in managing the fortune. Harry declined for now, but set up a meeting for the next week to discuss it further, when he didn't have the children.
They boarded one of Gringotts' rickety carts, the goblin driver setting a brisk, almost reckless pace through the labyrinthine tunnels. The air grew colder the deeper they descended, the dim light of the torches casting eerie shadows on the rocky walls. The children clutched the sides of the cart, a mix of excitement and nervousness on their faces as the cart twisted and turned.
When they finally screeched to a halt outside the Blackwood vault, the goblin gestured grandly to the towering doors. With a touch of his long fingers, the intricate locks clinked and whirred, the doors creaking open to reveal mountains of gold, glittering gems, and ancient treasures.
Harry stepped inside, selecting a modest portion of coins from the immense wealth, enough to cover their immediate needs without drawing undue attention. The children gazed in awe at the treasures around them, but Harry gently reminded them, "We take only what we need."
As they made their way back up, Harry's mind raced with the weight of their mission, even as his children chattered about the thrilling ride.
Their next stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The bell above the door jingled as they entered, and the matronly witch greeted them with a warm smile.
"New robes, I presume?" she asked, eyeing their current attire with curiosity.
"Yes," Harry said smoothly. "We've just returned from the continent. These were custom-made in Europe, but they're not quite right for England, are they?"
Madam Malkin chuckled, her fingers brushing over Liliana's sleeve. "Such fine craftsmanship! Quite unlike anything I've seen. But yes, you'll want something more traditional for here."
She set to work immediately, taking measurements and selecting fabrics with an expert eye. The children were delighted by the process, particularly Sirius, who giggled as enchanted measuring tapes fluttered around him.
"Europe, you say?" Madam Malkin asked as she worked.
"Yes," Harry replied, keeping his tone light. "We've been living abroad for some time, but it was time to return to our roots."
She nodded, clearly intrigued but not pressing further.
Once the new robes were secured, Harry led the children to a quiet, shadowed corner of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, a younger and more spry version of the barman Harry remembered, served them a hearty lunch of stew and fresh bread. Harry kept a vigilant eye on the sparse crowd, scanning for anyone who might be taking too much interest in them. The children ate quietly, the gravity of their situation hanging between them.
"Are we going to meet Uncle Edgar now?" Edgar asked softly, his serious gaze fixed on his father.
Harry nodded. "Yes. Edgar Bones is a good man. He'll help us, but he's the only person who can know who we really are. You can trust him, but no one else—do you understand?"
The children murmured their agreement, but Lily's green eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Will we see Mum?" she asked hesitantly.
Harry's breath caught, but he forced a calm reply. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tinged with both hope and caution. "If not today, then soon I imagine. But remember, she won't know who we are, and we can't tell her—not yet. It's very important."
"It'll still be nice to see her," Sirius added in a small voice, his head bowed over his half-empty plate. "Even if she doesn't know she's our mum. I miss her."
Harry reached out and ruffled Sirius's hair gently. "I miss her too, kiddo. More than anything. But we'll do this together, one step at a time."
He took a deep breath and leaned forward, his tone turning serious. "Now, let's go over it one more time. What are your names?"
"Edward," Edgar said firmly.
"Lillian," Lily replied with a small smile.
"Samuel," Sirius muttered with a grimace that made Harry chuckle despite himself.
"And where have we been for the last several years?"
The children recited their cover story with growing confidence: time spent abroad, studying and traveling as a respected and reclusive magical family. Harry quizzed them on details, correcting minor slips and emphasising the importance of consistency.
By the time their plates were empty, they had gone over every detail of their new identities. Harry felt a flicker of pride at their determination—they were young, but they understood the stakes.
"Good. Now let's finish up and head to Bones Manor," Harry said, signalling the end of their meal. The children nodded, their expressions resolute as they prepared to take the next step into their uncertain future.
O – o – o - o
The sun was beginning to set as Harry and the children arrived at the edge of the Bones estate. The manor was stately but welcoming, with sprawling grounds and a neatly trimmed garden. Harry's heart thudded as he approached the door, his children close at his side.
A house-elf answered the door, its large eyes widening at the sight of them. "Yes, sir and young masters?"
"I need to speak with Edgar Bones," Harry said firmly. "Please tell him it's urgent."
The elf vanished with a snap of its fingers, and moments later, Edgar Bones appeared. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a kind but cautious expression.
"I am Lord Hector Blackwood," Harry said, inclining his head. "These are my children. I must speak with you. It is of utmost importance, and I ask that you trust me, even though we've never met."
Edgar's eyes flickered between Harry and the children, his brow furrowing. There was something familiar about them, but he couldn't place it. Finally, he nodded. "Come inside."
Edgar called for his wife, a warm, motherly woman whose presence seemed to brighten the room. She approached the children with a gentle smile, her demeanour immediately putting them at ease. "Come with me, dears," she said kindly. "I'll fix you something to eat while your father talks with Edgar."
The children glanced at Harry, their hesitation clear. He gave them an encouraging nod, and after a brief moment, they returned the woman's smile and followed her down the hall.
"This way," Edgar said, gesturing for Harry to follow him.
They walked in silence to a well-appointed office. Dark wood paneling and shelves lined with books gave the room an air of quiet authority. Edgar settled into a chair behind the large oak desk, motioning for Harry to take the seat across from him.
"Your children seem... wary," Edgar observed as he leaned back, studying Harry.
"They've had to learn caution," Harry replied, his voice tight. "They've been through more than any child should ever have to endure."
Edgar nodded solemnly, his sharp eyes betraying a flicker of empathy. "What can I do for you Lord Blackwood?"
Without a word, Harry reached into his coat and retrieved the envelope. He placed it on the desk, sliding it toward Edgar.
Edgar opened it carefully, his movements deliberate. As he began to read, his expression darkened, the weight of the revelations bearing down on him. When he reached Amelia's letter, his hands trembled slightly, and he set the parchment down with great care.
"When did I die?" he asked at last, his voice low and almost hoarse.
Harry's heart twisted. "A year after your daughter Susan was born," he answered gently. "Amelia raised her as her own."
Edgar's eyes closed briefly, his grief barely concealed. "I see."
"And the children?"
"They're mine and Amelia's," Harry said softly. "She was killed a year ago by Voldemort. That's why we're here—to stop him. And if I'm lucky, to give my kids their mother back... and maybe even gain an uncle."
"She named her son after me? I didn't think she liked me that much." Edgar shared with a chuckle.
"I didn't know her then, but she spoke of you often in later years. I know your death was very difficult for her."
Edgar sat back in his chair, his expression a mix of disbelief and pain. "This is... a lot to process," he said after a moment. "But Amelia was always thorough and her letter left no room for doubt. She wouldn't have sent you here unless she was sure you could succeed."
Harry allowed himself a faint smile. "She always was one step ahead. That's what made her such an exceptional Minister during the war."
Edgar's eyebrows rose. "Minister? Amelia was Minister?"
"She was," Harry confirmed. "It was the shortest term in history, but also the most successful. She stepped down when the twins were born."
A flicker of pride softened Edgar's features. "I'm not surprised. She was always meant for greatness."
Harry nodded, his voice turning serious again. "We need a plan. First, I need to establish myself in society. Then we deal with Voldemort."
Edgar tapped a finger against his desk thoughtfully, then picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet. He flipped to the classified section and slid the page toward Harry. "This might be a good place to start."
Harry's eyes landed on an advertisement: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seeks a qualified Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
"What about Dumbledore?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing. "Should I tell him the truth?"
Edgar studied him for a moment. "I've always known Albus to be a good man. Was he trustworthy in your timeline?"
Harry hesitated, his mind flashing to moments of both trust and betrayal. "He made mistakes, ones Amelia never fully forgave him for. But yes, I trusted him."
"Then telling him might simplify things," Edgar said. "He could be a valuable ally."
Harry nodded slowly. "Perhaps. You're right about Hogwarts though, being there might be the best move. Many of the future Death Eaters will still be there, just finishing school. It could be the perfect opportunity to gather intel and strategise."
"And you could spend more time with Amelia?" Edgar asked, a knowing look in his eyes.
Harry's heart tightened at the thought. "She's... stubborn," he admitted with a faint smile. "But I won her over the first time. I have to believe I can do it again."
Edgar's lips twitched into a faint smile. "I hope you're right. You don't have an unbreakable marriage contract helping you out this time."
Harry chuckled softly, though the ache in his chest remained. "Then I'll have to rely on charm and sheer determination."
Edgar leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Well, you have a lot to get on with then, so let's not waste any time."
O – o – o – o
As their conversation concluded, Edgar leaned back in his chair, regarding Harry with a thoughtful expression. "Well," he said, his voice softening slightly, "I think that covers everything for now. But there's one more thing you should know."
Harry tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"Amelia," Edgar said, a faint smile playing on his lips, "is in the garden. Most likely destroying some poor training dummies. It's her way of unwinding."
Harry's breath caught, his heart leaping at the thought of seeing her again. But as quickly as it soared, it sank under the weight of uncertainty. What would she think of him? Would she recognise some part of him, even if she didn't know the truth?
Edgar seemed to sense Harry's hesitation. "Perhaps you should introduce yourself," he suggested, his tone measured but kind.
Harry swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Edgar's smile widened ever so slightly, his expression clear and resolute. "You have my blessing, Harry. Whatever it takes to make this right—do it."
Harry stood, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him, and extended his hand. Edgar clasped it firmly, his grip both reassuring and grounding.
"Good luck," Edgar said quietly.
With a deep breath, Harry stepped out of the office and made his way toward the garden, each step both hurried and hesitant, as if his heart and mind were at odds with one another.
When Harry reached the garden, he stopped at the edge of the hedges, his breath hitching at the sight before him. Amelia was there, her auburn hair catching the light as she moved with precision and grace. She was sparring with a training dummy that had seen far better days, her wand flicking sharply, spells crackling in the air like firecrackers.
She was just as beautiful as he remembered, her face alight with determination, her movements fluid and powerful. Yet, there was something different—something lighter about her. Her eyes, so often haunted in his memories, were unburdened, filled with the energy of youth. This was a younger, carefree Amelia, untouched by the pain and loss that had once carved lines into her face.
Harry felt a lump rise in his throat, a strange mixture of gratitude and longing. He was grateful that this version of her had not yet suffered the trials of his Amelia's life, but he couldn't deny the ache in his chest at how much he missed the woman she would become.
Steeling himself, he stepped forward. "Your stance is strong," he said, his voice cutting through the crisp air. "But if you shift your weight slightly to the left, you'll have better balance for a counter attack."
Amelia froze, her head whipping toward him. She fixed him with a glare that could have withered a lesser man. Harry merely stood his ground, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles.
Without a word, she tried the adjustment, her body moving with precision. A few seconds later, the training dummy crumpled in a heap under her spell. She turned back to him, a familiar gleam in her eyes that sent his heart racing.
"And who," she demanded, her voice sharp but curious, "are you?"
Harry inclined his head slightly. "Lord Hector Blackwood. My friends call me Harry. I'm a friend of your brother's."
Her eyes narrowed. "I've met all my brother's friends."
"I'm a new friend."
"And a very handsome friend," Amelia said before her eyes widened in mortification. Her hand flew to her mouth as if she could take the words back.
Harry chuckled, his amusement evident. He couldn't help but notice the tables had turned; gone was the confident woman from moments ago, replaced by someone caught off guard, almost flustered.
"Thank you for the compliment. Had I known Edgar had such a beautiful younger sister I would have accepted his invitation years ago."
Her gaze flicked over him, assessing, as if she were trying to puzzle him out. "How did you learn such a technique?"
For a moment, Harry hesitated. He couldn't very well tell her you taught me. "I was privately trained on the continent," he replied smoothly.
Amelia's lips parted as though she meant to ask something more, but before she could speak, a voice called out from the garden entrance.
"Lady Bones said you were out here," said Edgar, striding toward them, his siblings trailing behind him. "Can we go home now?"
A soft gasp escaped Amelia's lips, and her eyes widened as she took in the three children.
"You have children?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.
Harry turned toward them with a gentle smile. "Yes. This is Edward, Lillian, and Samuel."
Her gaze swept over the children, her surprise shifting to something softer, warmer. "Is your wife here as well, then?"
Harry's heart clenched, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he detected a hint of disappointment in her voice. "She died, a year ago."
Amelia's expression shifted to one of quiet sympathy. "I'm sorry."
Harry nodded, his throat tight. He turned to his children, forcing a smile. "This is Edgar's sister—uh..." He faltered, realising she hadn't introduced herself.
"Amelia," she supplied, her tone patient but intrigued.
"Amelia," Harry repeated softly, the name rolling off his tongue like a prayer.
"It's nice to meet you, Amelia," said Lily, her voice bright and earnest. Sirius offered her a shy smile, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
Amelia crouched slightly to their level, her expression softening. "Do you like chocolate frogs?"
The children's faces lit up, and they nodded eagerly.
"I think I might have some in my room," Amelia said with a smile. "Maybe you'd like to take some with you. Don't want you getting hungry on the way home."
The children nodded again, their excitement barely contained. Amelia extended her hand to Lily, who took it readily.
"Let's go, then," Amelia said, her voice warm.
"I'll meet you in the foyer," Harry called after them, his chest tightening as he watched the scene unfold.
The children glanced back at him and smiled before following Amelia toward the manor. She paused at the doorway, turning to look at him. Her gaze lingered on his face, her eyes burning with curiosity—and perhaps something more. Then, with a small, enigmatic smile, she disappeared inside with the children.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, his heart racing as he stood alone in the quiet garden.