CHAPTER 16: TEMPORAL REFLECTIONS
Amused by the adorable display, Bellatrix couldn't resist joining in, her words hissing with a mixture of fondness and mischief. "You were very cute at that age," she said, drawing the attention of the dark-haired toddler who promptly slipped off Tonks' back.
"Sna-key," the little Harry hissed, his eyes lighting up with excitement as Bellatrix transformed into a serpent on the floor.
"He talks like a snake too," Tonks remarked with a chuckle, watching the interaction unfold.
"Snakey, hello," the toddler greeted Bellatrix, his joy evident as he extended a small hand toward the slithering form.
"I'm not a snakey, I'm a woman," Bellatrix protested good-naturedly.
"You look like a snakey," the child argued, his innocence and honesty adding a touch of humor to the situation.
"But I'm not really a snakey," Bellatrix explained, her head rising to meet the curious gaze of the toddler, her hood flaring outward in a playful manner.
"Bellatrix, just change back already," Harry interjected with a sigh, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in his voice as he observed the playful banter between the transformed Bellatrix and the endearing toddler version of himself. Little did they know, this snapshot of domestic chaos would become a cherished memory in the tapestry of their intertwined lives.
Harry observed the younger version of himself, wide-eyed in amazement, as Bellatrix seamlessly transformed back into her human form before his eyes. The toddler, still captivated by the magic he had just witnessed, shyly declared, "Snakey woman."
"I am Auntie Bella," Bellatrix responded gently, her demeanor softening as she engaged with the miniature version of Harry.
As the magical spectacle unfolded, a more mature Harry couldn't help but entertain a whimsical thought. "Is it wrong that I want to call her Auntie Bella later tonight?" he mused internally, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
Meanwhile, Sirius, always eager for updates, interjected with a curious tone, "So how did it go?"
Harry's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Great! I accomplished what I set out to do, and I even got myself a girlfriend in the process."
Sirius arched an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and skepticism crossing his features. "Really, and you're still alive?" he inquired, casting a wary glance at Bellatrix.
"I finally asked her to be my girlfriend," Harry clarified, following Sirius's gaze and catching the underlying concern.
Sirius chuckled, his infectious joy evident. "It's your funeral. I picked up Harry, by the way," he added, as if stating the obvious.
"I saw him turning Tonks into a hippogriff," Harry replied with a laugh, the camaraderie between them palpable as they shared tales of magical exploits and unexpected developments. The drawing-room, once a stage for familial antics, had now become a hub of shared memories and the beginnings of something new.
Amid the laughter and light banter, Andromeda interjected with a deadpan expression, "Not a hippogriff—her little bum is grounded after yesterday."
Sirius couldn't help but grin. "Poor kid."
Seizing the opportunity to shift the conversation, Narcissa turned her attention to Harry. "So, the veela you talked to accepted your offer?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes, she assured me she could pull it off."
Sirius, ever the curious one, leaned in with a raised eyebrow. "What do you get out of this?" he asked, prompting Harry to explain the motivation behind his dealings with the veela.
Narcissa, however, beat Harry to the punch. "My cottage in Cornwall," she answered casually, a nonchalant shrug accompanying her words.
A nostalgic twinge filled the room as memories of Cornwall surfaced. Andromeda's voice carried a hint of longing as she reminisced, "Oh, I love that place. Do you remember the sandcastles we used to build there?"
Narcissa's face softened, and she joined in the stroll down memory lane. "How could I forget? I never got to finish one because Bellatrix would always destroy it, pretending she was a dragon."
"I was bored, and mine always fell apart," Bellatrix defended, a playful glint in her eyes as she recalled the mischievous moments of their shared past. The drawing-room, once a space filled with magical antics and childlike joy, now resonated with the echoes of their intertwined history, blending past and present in a tapestry of shared experiences.
Harry's attention shifted when his younger self approached, introducing himself with an innocent smile, "Hi, I'm Harry."
Chuckling, Harry responded, "Hello, Harry. I'm Harry too," a playful grin accompanying his words.
Andromeda, always the voice of reason, chimed in, "Don't confuse him, Harry," shaking her head at the potential confusion.
"Sorry, little guy. My name really is Harry," Harry reassured, extending his hand for a friendly shake. The younger Harry, a bit nervously, accepted the gesture, and they exchanged a brief handshake. Harry couldn't help but notice that the boy appeared decently well-fed, a stark contrast to the harsh treatment he would later endure at the Dursleys'.
Memories flickered in Harry's mind, recalling that his aunt's mistreatment had truly intensified after Dudley's third birthday, marked by an outburst of accidental magic that sent all of Dudley's presents flying around the room. Reflecting on the past, he noted that his younger self, although still somewhat timid, seemed in decent health, albeit wearing clothes a bit too big—undoubtedly Dudley's cast-offs.
A warmth spread through Harry as he agreed with Bellatrix's earlier assessment—his younger self was undeniably cute at that age, with chubby cheeks, messy black hair, and his mother's enchanting emerald-green eyes.
Smiling warmly at his younger self, Harry watched as the little boy ran off after Tonks, requesting, "Tonky, be my horsey, please." The drawing-room, now a stage for both present and past, echoed with the laughter of children and the shared experiences that wove their stories together.
As the evening progressed, Harry took a moment to address Sirius, his gaze locking onto his old friend. "Give him a good life, Padfoot," he said, the weight of the words carrying a solemn sincerity.
"I will, I owe it to James," Sirius replied, his eyes following little Harry as he sat next to Draco, coloring in a book. Tonks, it seemed, had gracefully retired from her role as a makeshift steed.
Narcissa, ever the devoted mother, expressed her satisfaction, "This will be good for Draco to have someone his own age to play with." Her happiness at the prospect of Draco's companionship echoed the genuine love she held for her son.
Harry shook his head in amusement, silently acknowledging a commendable aspect of Narcissa's character—her unwavering devotion to her child.
The remainder of the evening passed swiftly. The Black family, now expanded to include the next generation, enjoyed a convivial dinner. The toddlers reveled in playtime, their laughter becoming a melodic backdrop to the Black sisters catching up on the latest gossip.
As the clock approached eight, Narcissa, Sirius, and Andromeda decided it was time to bring the toddlers to bed. With a shared goal of settling the youngsters down, they bid their farewells and left for their respective homes. Left in the drawing-room, Harry and Bellatrix enjoyed a moment of quiet, relishing the calm before they, too, would retire for the night. The echoes of laughter and familial bonds lingered in the air, creating a sense of warmth and unity that transcended the complexities of their shared history.
The atmosphere in the room took a sudden turn, charged with a mix of anticipation and playful desire. Bellatrix, with a hopeful glint in her eyes, broke the silence, "So, got any ideas for tonight?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, a subtle blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, I kind of want to call you Auntie Bella tonight," he admitted, his admission met with an intrigued gaze from Bellatrix.
A mischievous smile played on Bellatrix's lips. "I don't mind, as long as you do that snake talking thing again," she responded, her own cheeks taking on a faint pink hue.
"Alright," Harry agreed eagerly, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes.
"Alright then, Harry, let's go to Auntie Bella's room," Bellatrix declared with a grin, her tone carrying a hint of mischief.
"Why Auntie Bella?" Harry innocently inquired, his curiosity evident.
"Because you've been a very naughty boy today, and it's time to put your Parseltongue to good use," Bellatrix replied sternly, practically dragging him up the stairs with a playful firmness.
"Yes, Auntie Bella," Harry responded dutifully, the allure of the role-playing scenario adding an element of excitement to the evening. As Bellatrix pulled him into their room, Harry couldn't help but think, 'Role-playing is awesome,' embracing the playful dynamics that added a spark to their relationship.
Harry stepped into Isabelle's room, closing the door behind him as he greeted her politely, "Good afternoon, Ms. Dubois."
"Good afternoon, Monsieur Peverell," Isabelle replied, her smile radiating warmth.
Cutting straight to business, Harry inquired, "Were you able to get him to sign the contract?"
"Oui, the parchment flashed blue as soon as 'e signed it," Isabelle confirmed, her happiness evident in her tone.
"Excellent," Harry remarked, examining the parchment she handed him. The Gringotts seal indicated the successful termination of the contract, a crucial step in their arrangement.
Reaching into his robes, Harry retrieved the pouch containing the other half of her payment and handed it to Isabelle. She accepted it graciously, tucking the pouch into her open suitcase, which lay ready on the bed.
"Thank you. I will be leaving for France as soon as our business here is complete," Isabelle informed him, her preparations hinting at her imminent departure.
Harry nodded in acknowledgment, appreciating her efficiency and dedication to their agreement. With the contract sealed and her payment received, the conclusion of their business signaled the forthcoming end of Isabelle's stay in the wizarding world.
"Thank you for this; my client will be most pleased that I accomplished the job without bloodshed," Harry expressed sincerely, pulling out his other money pouch. With a practiced motion, he summoned three hundred and fifty galleons, the agreed-upon payment for Isabelle's services during their meeting.
"You do not need to pay me for ze hour," Isabelle responded, her expression displaying a hint of incredulity.
"Think of it as compensation for having to deal with Parkinson," Harry explained with a nonchalant shrug, acknowledging the challenges she had faced during their encounter.
"Zank you. I hope we will meet again. If you are ever in France, look me up. I will be staying with my cousin Appoline and her husband until I can find a place of my own," Isabelle said warmly, her gratitude and goodwill evident.
"I will. Good luck in France," Harry bid her farewell, a genuine wish for her success as he exited into the hallway. The transaction complete, their paths diverged, leaving behind a sense of mutual respect and a shared understanding forged in the unique circumstances of their encounter.
The plan unfolded beautifully, though it came at a steep price. Harry had invested a considerable sum for what seemed like a straightforward task, but the alternative—coercing a stubborn pureblood into canceling a lucrative contract that promised great wealth for the Parkinsons—was far less appealing. The thought of resorting to violence, even to secure the termination, weighed heavily on Harry's mind.
Isabelle's charm had worked wonders. The pureblood Lord Parkinson, a man entangled in an intricate web of financial alliances, had willingly affixed his signature to the parchment. The eerie vacancy in his smile suggested a subtle influence, a silent manipulation that had nudged him toward compliance.
Harry recognized the limitations he faced in employing conventional coercion methods. The enchantments meticulously woven into the parchment acted as guardians against signatures obtained under duress. Isabelle's veela magic played a unique role, bypassing the typical nullification that Imperius might have induced. The key lay in the willing submission of Lord Parkinson, driven by a desperate desire to win Isabelle's affections.
The official termination of the betrothal contract hinged on Narcissa's involvement. Until she signed and presented the document to the Malfoy family's Gringotts account manager, the liberation of funds and assets remained in limbo. The next destination on Harry's agenda was the imposing halls of Gringotts, where the intricacies of magical contracts and family legacies converged.
As Harry traversed the cobblestone streets toward the goblin-run bank, he pondered the delicate dance of power and influence within the wizarding world. The interactions with Lord Parkinson had illuminated the complexities involved in navigating the high-stakes game of pureblood politics.
Arriving at Gringotts, the imposing structure loomed ahead, its stone façade etched with ancient symbols of magical banking. Harry's journey into the heart of wizarding finance was about to take a crucial turn. The grand doors of the bank swung open, revealing the dimly lit interior where goblin clerks scurried about their duties.
Within the hallowed halls, Harry sought out the Malfoy family's designated account manager. Awaiting Narcissa's signature, he braced himself for the ensuing negotiations, recognizing that the true test of his strategic prowess lay just beyond the ornate doors of Gringotts.
On this particular day, Bellatrix had chosen to let Harry handle the bank visit on his own, citing her engagement in a thorough assessment of their new property. The prospect of their impending move seemed to be a driving force behind her diligence. Harry noticed a discernible shift in her demeanor, a newfound relaxation that had settled since the moment he formally asked her to be his girlfriend. The depth of their connection appeared to alleviate the tension that had lingered before.
Navigating the familiar streets of Diagon Alley, Harry's journey to Gringotts proved to be swift. As he stepped into the grand lobby of the bank, Narcissa Malfoy awaited him, a picture of poised expectation. Their eyes met, and with a gesture, Harry handed over the signed betrothal termination contract.
"She was successful," Harry reported, his tone carrying a sense of accomplishment as he presented the parchment to Narcissa.
"Excellent. Follow me, and I will arrange for the deed to be transferred to you after I present this to Nogrod," Narcissa replied with a confident smile, leading him down a corridor to the left side of the bustling lobby.
The ensuing proceedings unfolded with a precision that mirrored the meticulous nature of goblin banking. In a secluded alcove, Narcissa signed the contract, and the parchment responded with a radiant blue glow. Nogrod, the goblin overseer of such transactions, swiftly updated the bank's records, confirming the successful termination of the betrothal contract.
The financial shift was palpable. The dowry, a substantial sum previously transferred from the Malfoy vaults to Lord Parkinson as part of the betrothal arrangement, now retraced its steps. It flowed back into the Malfoy coffers, aligning with the terms stipulated in the original betrothal contract.
A unique twist in their favor emerged—Lord Parkinson, having signed the termination first, found himself obligated to pay ten percent of the dowry back to the Malfoys. The intricate dance of wizarding contracts and familial alliances continued to weave its complex tapestry, favoring Harry and Narcissa in this particular maneuver. As they left Gringotts, the weight of financial freedom and the anticipation of their new home marked a significant chapter in their evolving journey.
The transfer of ownership for the cottage in Cornwall unfolded seamlessly in the quaint confines of Gringotts. With both Harry and Narcissa present, the finalization of the deed marked the culmination of their intricate maneuvering. The goblin clerks executed the transaction with precision, ensuring that the property now belonged to Harry.
Exiting the solemn halls of the bank, the weight of newfound ownership settled upon Harry's shoulders. The cottage, nestled in the serene landscapes of Cornwall, represented not only a physical space but a symbolic shift in his life's trajectory. The subtle smile on Narcissa's face hinted at the satisfaction she derived from successfully navigating the intricacies of the betrothal termination and property transfer.
As they stepped back into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, Harry offered to escort Narcissa to the apparition point. The camaraderie forged during their shared endeavors had created a unique bond, and the journey back to the apparition point became an opportunity for casual conversation.
Reaching the designated spot, they exchanged parting words and expressions of gratitude. "Until next time," Harry said, a twinkle of acknowledgment in his eyes.
Narcissa's response carried a note of appreciation, "Indeed. It's been a pleasure, Harry." With a nod, they parted ways, each heading towards their respective homes. The air was charged with a sense of accomplishment, and as they walked away, the feeling lingered that both had emerged from the day with a sense of having secured the better deal.
The streets of Diagon Alley continued their hustle and bustle, oblivious to the intricate dealings that had transpired within the walls of Gringotts. For Harry and Narcissa, the day's events marked a significant chapter, one that set the stage for new beginnings and the unfolding of a future that held promises, challenges, and the shared understanding that their paths would cross again.
Harry emerged from the fireplace, finding Tonks comfortably seated at the kitchen table, indulging in a sandwich with evident gusto. "Wotcher, Harry?" she greeted with a cheeky grin, words muffled by a mouthful of food.
"That's disgusting, Tonks. Chew with your mouth shut," Harry quipped good-naturedly, a playful glint in his eyes as he set about fixing himself a sandwich.
"So, where's Aunt Bellatrix?" Tonks inquired once Harry took his seat, her curiosity evident.
"Checking out our new house," Harry responded, taking a sizable bite of his own sandwich. The mere mention of their new abode brought a satisfied smile to his face.
"You got a new house?" Tonks asked, genuine curiosity coloring her tone.
"On the beach," Harry declared happily, savoring the thought of their seaside retreat.
"Really?" Tonks exclaimed, her excitement infectious.
"Yep," Harry confirmed, relishing the simple joy of sharing the news. The atmosphere in the kitchen radiated with a sense of newfound accomplishment and anticipation, the prospect of a beachfront home infusing the air with a tangible vibrancy.
"Will you let me come over?" Tonks asked hopefully, her eyes bright with anticipation.
"That's up to your mother," Harry replied, offering a nonchalant shrug. He knew that Andromeda held the final say in matters concerning her daughter's social engagements.
"We'll see," Andromeda chimed in as she entered the kitchen, her presence adding a touch of maternal authority to the conversation.
"Good afternoon, Andy," Harry greeted her once he had swallowed the last of his sandwich.
"Good afternoon. I take it things went well?" Andromeda inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes, I got the signature for Narcissa; the cottage is officially mine," Harry announced with a genuine sense of accomplishment, a satisfied smile gracing his features.
"Good. You made Cissa three hundred thousand galleons richer," Andromeda remarked, acknowledging the financial implications of their successful maneuvering.
"Three hundred and thirty. Parkinson had to pay ten percent on top of the dowry," Harry added with a mischievous smirk, reveling in the strategic victory.
Andromeda couldn't help but chuckle at the turn of events. "You do realize she is just going to find other things for you to do for her now," she warned with a playful glint in her eye.
"I know, but it seems to be working out pretty well so far," Harry admitted with a nonchalant shrug, his tone suggesting a willingness to navigate the challenges that lay ahead.
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," Andromeda said, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. The kitchen, once a hub of strategic discussions, now resonated with the shared understanding that their lives were becoming increasingly intertwined. The prospect of what lay ahead, with a new home and evolving relationships, hung in the air, and Harry couldn't help but embrace the unpredictability of the future.
"You did," Harry agreed, acknowledging Andromeda's earlier warning with a wry smile.
The fireplace burst into green flames, and Bellatrix stepped out, an air of satisfaction radiating from her. "The house is in perfect shape. How did things go with the veela?" she inquired, eager for details.
"Great. Isabelle held up her end, and the deed has already transferred into my vault. We can move in whenever," Harry responded, sharing the good news with a sense of accomplishment.
"Good, because I moved all our stuff there this morning," Bellatrix announced, her pride evident in the way she carried herself.
"Good. I hope you packed a swimsuit," Harry said, a twinkle in his eye as he anticipated enjoying an evening swim in the ocean.
"I don't plan on wearing anything when I go swimming," Bellatrix declared with a smirk, her comment laced with a hint of mischief.
"Excellent," Harry exclaimed, his enthusiasm unbridled, only to receive a stern glare from Andromeda, who clearly disapproved of the playful banter.
"You swim naked?" Tonks asked, her curiosity piqued by the unconventional revelation.
"Sometimes," Bellatrix admitted casually, brushing off her sister's disapproving look.
"Oh, I guess it's like taking a bath," Tonks mused thoughtfully, attempting to make sense of the unconventional choice.
Harry couldn't help but think, 'She is definitely a bad influence.' As Bellatrix and Andromeda delved into a spirited bickering match about propriety and whether Andromeda was a prude, the atmosphere in the room became charged with the distinct energy of their dynamic household. The prospect of moving into their new home by the beach had certainly ushered in a wave of lively discussions and unforeseen revelations.
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