Legacy of the Basilisk

by wolf970

The Horcrux is destroyed in the chamber. Harry will find out about his family, his place in the magical world, and perhaps a family and love.

36. Chapter 36

Chapter 300 "Secrets of the Illithid"

The Mediator followed Bishop Dominic down the corridor. She was focused, her expression a mask of calm fortitude. Dominic could sense her mental preparations, readying herself to deliver a comprehensive report on the captured Illithid ship. They reached a set of heavy wooden doors adorned with intricate carvings of celestial symbols and gilded icons of The Eternal Imperial Church. Dominic paused to nod to her, signaling that it was time.

The doors swung open, revealing Pope Benedictus Castellano seated at a long table, his posture regal yet welcoming. Around him, five Admirals of the Eternal Church's navy appeared on crystal screens, their images filling the chamber's walls. Each Admiral was a formidable figure in their own right, their presence exuding authority and unyielding strength. On the other screens, various Chapter Heads of the Adeptus Astartes watched intently, awaiting the Mediator's words.

She scanned the faces of the Admirals, recognizing each by reputation and the weight they carried within the Eternal Church.

Admiral Severian Ironheart was the first to catch her attention. Countless battles marked his grizzled face, his left eye replaced with a runic implant that glowed faintly as he observed her. He wore a dark, reinforced naval coat with the sigils of the Eternal Church's fleet embroidered in silver along the cuffs. Known for his unyielding nature, Admiral Ironheart had earned his title for his seemingly indestructible will and toughness in the face of impossible odds.

Admiral Valeria Stormglaive appeared on the next screen. Tall and statuesque, her platinum hair pulled back into a severe braid, she was renowned as one of the Eternal Church's most brilliant tactical minds. Her uniform was pristine, a gleaming series of dark silver plates over a formal black tunic adorned with the holy emblem of the Church. Her eyes were a piercing blue, sharp with intellect and a reputation for ruthless efficiency. She was called the "Blade of the Storm" for her swift and deadly strikes in battle.

Admiral Cassius Blackfyre appeared on the next display. Dressed in imposing black robes lined with dark crimson, he was a shadowy figure known for mastery of ambush tactics and guerilla warfare. His thick, braided beard was streaked with iron gray, giving him a stern, almost menacing aura. He bore the title of "Specter of the Abyss" for his ability to strike from the shadows with devastating precision.

Admiral Helena Ironwrath was another formidable presence. She was known as the "Maiden of Flame," a commander specializing in heavy bombardment and close-quarters combat. Her red hair was cropped short, and she wore battle-scarred armor over her uniform as a reminder of her countless close encounters. She was uncompromising, with a reputation for leveling enemy strongholds in decisive and brutal assaults.

Finally, Admiral Thaddeus Voidreaver filled the last screen. Voidreaver was a tall, spectral figure, his gaunt face framed by dark hair streaked with white. His uniform was darker than the others, embroidered with arcane symbols that glowed faintly. Known for his deep understanding of cosmic forces and advanced technology, he commanded the Church's exploration fleet. Many called him the "Navigator of Shadows" for his ability to chart courses through forbidden and dangerous territories.

As the Mediator met the eyes of each Admiral, she could feel the weight of their expectations. Pope Benedictus motioned for her to step forward and address the gathering. She inclined her head respectfully before she began, her voice clear and composed.

"Your Holiness, Admirals of the Eternal Church," and Distinguished Chapter Masters, she started, her gaze steady. "I am here to provide an update on the captured Illithid vessel. As you know, the ship was taken with minimal damage, and our engineers have begun dismantling it for study. We have encountered many strange and unknown components, each revealing insights into the Illithid's technology and weaponry, though their psychic enhancements remain dangerous."

Admiral Stormglaive's face was impassive, though her eyes gleamed with interest. "Have you managed to uncover any weaknesses we can exploit?"

"Indeed," the Mediator replied. "Their technology is highly reliant on psionic networks—if we disrupt those networks, the ship's functionality diminishes rapidly. However, we are still learning how to destabilize these systems."

As the engineers reported, we discovered that the Illithid ship is a marvel of alien ingenuity and resilience, displaying strengths that make it one of the most formidable vessels ever encountered. At its core, the ship is an intricate blend of advanced metal alloys and biological materials, a fusion that grants it unique defensive and offensive capabilities.

The hull is composed of a highly fortified alien metal mixed with the living flesh of the Illithid creature. This unusual fusion has created a structure capable of absorbing vast amounts of magical energy. Attempting to damage it with magical spells or curses is frustrating, as the metal absorbs and dissipates the energy, rendering magical attacks ineffective unless repeatedly struck beyond its absorption threshold. This design means that to even scratch the ship's surface, one must overwhelm it with sustained magical force.

The engines powering this craft are equally remarkable and operate on unique principles. The primary propulsion system relies on psychic force crystals, which pull raw energy from the universal magic in the fabric of reality. These crystals are attuned to psychic energy, drawing power in a way that bypasses traditional fuel sources and taps directly into cosmic energy flows. This engine gives the Illithid ship a seemingly inexhaustible energy source capable of long-range, sustained travel without refueling.

In addition to the primary propulsion, the ship boasts a second engine, an almost mythical piece of technology identified as a dimensional engine. This engine houses an immense, dark crystal capable of manipulating spatial and dimensional barriers. When activated, it creates a miniature black hole as a portal, enabling the ship to jump between dimensions. This dimensional jump allows the Illithid ship to appear and disappear at will, evading pursuers or launching ambushes. The engine can bend reality, rendering the ship an elusive and unpredictable threat in any engagement.

The weapons system is equally formidable. The Illithid ship's offensive capabilities are forward-firing, focusing its destructive power into concentrated beams of magical energy. Fueled by the psychic force crystals, these beams are potent enough to penetrate most known defensive shields, carving through armor with terrifying efficiency. The concentrated nature of these forward beams means the ship excels in direct, head-on confrontations, often overwhelming foes with sheer firepower in a single strike.

The ship's tentacles add another layer to its offensive capability. These biological appendages extend outward from the hull, functioning as offensive weapons and manipulation tools. The tentacles can capture, entangle, or even rip apart enemy ships with raw, crushing power in battle. The tentacles have also been observed repairing minor damage on the ship's surface, further enhancing the vessel's resilience. These appendages make the Illithid ship particularly dangerous in close quarters, where it can easily disable or destroy smaller vessels without relying solely on its primary weapons.

The Illithid ship's critical advantage lies in its psychic enhancers—devices scattered throughout its interior that amplify the telepathic abilities of the Illithid crew. These enhancers allow the ship to project a concentrated psychic attack directly at the crew of an opposing vessel. These attacks can destabilize an enemy crew through telepathic force alone, filling them with overwhelming fear and confusion or paralyzing them. This psychic warfare tactic allows the Illithid ship to strike at the minds of its adversaries, often incapacitating them long before the physical engagement begins.

In essence, the Illithid ship is a fortress in space—a powerful, nearly impregnable vessel designed for quick battles, not sustained combat and interdimensional travel. Its alien-metal hull absorbs magic, its engines draw from universal magic and manipulate dimensions, and its forward weapons can pierce through the most formidable defenses. Add to this the psychic weaponry and entangling tentacles, and it becomes clear that the Illithid ship was built for dominance. These strengths make it a nightmarish foe, capable of bypassing conventional defenses and rendering most strategies ineffective. Any attempt to neutralize this ship would require force, creativity, patience, and a thorough understanding of its weaknesses.

The Admirals and other leaders sat in stunned silence, absorbing the gravity of the information just revealed. Admiral Ironheart broke the silence, his expression a mixture of disbelief and tension. "Are you saying they're impossible to defeat?" he asked, his grizzled face etched with concern.

The Mediator shook her head. "No, Admiral. They may have many advantages, but they are not invincible. Their technology is certainly advanced, making them a formidable adversary. But their greatest strength lies in their tactics—they are masters of hit-and-run warfare, not large-scale conquest. When the Illithids arrive, it's for a purpose. Once they achieve that purpose, they vanish as swiftly as they came."

Admiral Stormglaive's eyes narrowed. "So they don't occupy territory. What do they want, then?" "They are selective in their invasions," the Mediator explained. "The Illithids aren't interested in land or conventional resources. If they conquer a species, it's to consume them or use them as cattle. Those who are deemed useful are subjected to a horrific transformation process. They implant a parasitic worm into the host's brain, devouring the host's mind and eventually transforming the host into an Illithid. That is how they replenish their numbers."

The revelation sent a shudder through the room, and several of the Admirals exchanged uneasy glances. Admiral Voidreaver's usually stoic face reflected his horror. "So they don't just conquer—they consume and convert. They take everything from their prey, including their very minds."

The Mediator nodded solemnly. "Yes, they prey upon other beings to maintain their species. This makes them ruthless but also calculating. We must remember that their tactics revolve around targeted strikes. They don't arrive in vast fleets because they don't need to. They hit hard, achieve their objective, and then disappear."

The room fell silent again, the implications of this knowledge weighing heavily on the minds of those present. The Illithids weren't merely an enemy; they were an existential threat. Each leader knew that if they were to face this threat, it would require not just strength but an entirely new approach to warfare.

The Mediator continued, her voice calm but unyielding. "Now that you understand their strengths and methods, you see what they seek to accomplish. The Illithids do not realize that they have crossed into the territory of the Eternal Imperial Church—a force that does not forgive and does not forget." She paused, glancing around the room, her gaze steady. "Their ships may withstand extraordinary amounts of damage, especially against energy-based attacks, but they have a critical vulnerability: solid projectiles. Slug throwers, or cannons, can pierce the alien metal and the living flesh that forms their hulls. This is their weak point."

The Admirals exchanged glances, the tension in the room giving way to a spark of satisfaction. Admiral Ironheart's grizzled face broke into a rare smile. "Then we have something on them. Our larger vessels have massive cannons capable of firing solid rounds at considerable velocity. It seems our traditional weaponry may serve us well after all."

The Mediator nodded. "Exactly. These Illithid ships aren't designed to withstand direct, physical impacts on such a scale. By focusing on kinetic weapons—slug throwers, heavy cannons, and even missiles and torpedoes—we can damage their armor and the living tissue of their structure. I have already drafted designs to rearm the fleet with solid projectile weapons and ordnance, ensuring that every ship, regardless of its class, will have the means to inflict damage against an Illithid vessel."

The Mediator continued, "The new armament will include a variety of solid ammunition and missile payloads designed specifically to pierce their unique armor. If we encounter an Illithid vessel, every ship in our fleet will have the means to inflict real damage. We are adapting to their strengths and will soon be ready to meet them with our own."

The Admirals nodded expressions of grim satisfaction crossing their faces. They were preparing to meet this threat head-on, and now, with a renewed strategy and the proper weapons, they had the confidence they needed to face the Illithids.

The Mediator continued, her voice steady and focused. "In addition to rearming our vessels with solid projectile weapons, we're also implementing new defensive measures designed to counter the Illithids' telepathic assaults. The Church has long possessed the technology to block psychic interference—originally developed to protect high-ranking officials. We've modified and expanded these devices to create shields covering an entire vessel, effectively stopping telepathic attacks directed at our crews."

She glanced around the room, noting the Admirals' approving expressions. "These upgraded shields are being fitted as we speak, and we are also equipping each helmet with personal psychic defenses. This will prevent any attempted mind control or psychic invasion during combat. Thanks to existing technology, we're not starting from scratch but scaling up and optimizing for fleet-wide application."

Admiral Voidreaver leaned forward on the screen, his intense gaze fixed on the Mediator. "These upgrades are promising, but retrofitting an entire fleet isn't a small task. What is the estimated timeline for full implementation?"

The Mediator nodded, anticipating the question. "Our engineers and manufacturers are working around the clock. With the current pace of production, we estimate that all frontline vessels will be fully outfitted within the next four months. Larger ships are prioritized first due to their role in heavy combat, while smaller support vessels will follow closely. Our timeline for fleet-wide readiness is roughly six months."

Admiral Ironheart grunted approvingly. "Ambitious, but necessary. If we're to face the Illithids on equal footing, these modifications will give us the edge we need."

The Mediator held his gaze, her expression resolute. "Yes, Admiral. The Eternal Church will be fully prepared. When we encounter the Illithids, we will meet them with strength, skill, and now, true protection from their psychic warfare."

The Mediator allowed herself a slight smile. "You're correct, Admiral. Under normal circumstances, it would be unfeasible. But we've made some adjustments to the naval yard facilities." She paused, watching the expressions of curiosity ripple across the Admirals' faces. "I called in a few favors and was granted the assistance to create an alchemy device—a machine capable of transmuting materials on a large scale."

The Admirals looked at her in shock, and she continued, "When a ship docks, all necessary materials are gathered and placed into a designated area. The device will transmute the standard armor plating into a newly developed alloy stronger and more resistant to physical damage and telepathic interference. This way, not only will the Illithids have to penetrate the shields, but they'll also face an armor that resists their psychic influence. The crews will be well protected."

She leaned forward, her gaze steady. "And the weapons systems? They, too, will be upgraded. Instead of removing old weaponry and installing new systems, this device transmutes existing materials directly into the solid projectile weaponry we need to break through Illithid defenses."

A stunned silence filled the room as the Admirals absorbed this information. Admiral Stormglaive finally found her voice. "You're saying... we'll be able to refit our ships without the usual deconstruction and reassembly process?"

The Mediator nodded. "Precisely. This approach bypasses the standard refitting procedures, reducing the necessary time by more than half. Using alchemy transmutation, we're re-forging the ships as they dock, enhancing their capabilities without a complete overhaul."

Admiral Voidreaver shook his head in amazement. "This changes everything. With these enhancements, our fleet will be ready far sooner than anticipated. If the transmutation process holds, we'll have ships ready to take on the Illithid threat without delay."

Admiral Voidreaver leaned forward, his gaze intense. "And what about our engines and dimensional capabilities? Can we match their technology in that regard?"

The Mediator nodded, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze. "Yes, Admiral. Along with the armor and weapon upgrades, we enhance the engines on every vessel. Each ship will be outfitted with a dimensional engine similar to the Illithids' technology. These upgraded engines will allow our ships to follow the Illithids across dimensional space if they attempt to escape. Likewise, it will allow our fleet to retreat safely if any situation becomes unsustainable."

A murmur of approval rippled through the Admirals as they absorbed this. Admiral Ironheart grunted, clearly impressed. "So, our ships will finally be able to match them jump-for-jump. No more letting them slip away when they choose."

The Mediator smiled, confident. "Exactly. With these upgrades, we can chase them if they flee or secure our safe passage, ensuring our fleet can engage on its terms. Our ships will no longer be outmaneuvered by their dimensional escapes."

The Mediator looked around the room, her expression thoughtful yet resolved. "I also want to address a key component of our new strategy: the recent establishment of three academies dedicated to training Sanctus Cogitatio operatives. At these academies, we've already graduated over 400 new psychic officers who will be Navigators in the fleet. Each vessel will be assigned at least one Navigator, ensuring that no ship is ever stranded or lost during a dimensional jump."

She paused, letting the importance of this settle in. "Dimensional travel, especially within the Warp, is dangerous without the guidance of a trained Navigator. Attempting it without one risks everything; we could easily lose entire fleets to the void. With our Navigators, however, we'll have precise control over each ship's movements. They will guide our vessels safely from point to point, navigating the Warp's dangerous currents and ensuring safe travel."

Admiral Ironwraith nodded slowly. "And what of their role in engagements with Illithid ships?"

The Mediator's gaze sharpened. "Their abilities will allow us to track Illithid vessels in real-time, even if they attempt to escape into the Warp. Should an Illithid ship try to flee, our Navigators can follow and trace their path, keeping us on their trail. This will make hit-and-run tactics far less effective for the Illithids. We'll be able to pursue and counter them in the very realm they once controlled."

Around the room, the Admirals exchanged looks of appreciation. This level of tactical advantage, guided by psychic Navigators, would make their ships safer and ensure they remained relentless pursuers of any Illithid threat.

As the meeting concluded, the crystal screens blinked off, leaving only Bishop Dominic, the Pope, and the Mediator in the quiet room. Dominic let out a small breath of relief. "Well, that went surprisingly well," he remarked, glancing at the Pope.

Pope Benedictus chuckled, folding his hands thoughtfully. "Indeed. With the promise of fleet-wide upgrades, our Admirals now have something tangible to rely on—a fighting chance against our new enemies and the familiar ones lurking in the shadows."

The Mediator nodded in agreement, her expression composed yet contemplative. "These advancements have given them hope; they know we're truly preparing for the worst."

The Pope turned to her with a curious glint in his eye. "I must admit, I was surprised when you mentioned that the Flamels had agreed to assist. Nicholas and Perenelle have remained famously detached from current affairs for centuries. I'd begun to wonder if anything could bring them to intervene."

The Mediator shook her head. "I would have thought the same, Your Holiness. The Flamels have maintained their distance from politics and warfare for longer than most can remember. But with the Illithids' arrival—and the possibility of other dark entities resurfacing—they seem to have decided that the time for observation has ended. This new threat must have convinced them that their knowledge, particularly in alchemy and advanced defensive magic, could be critical."

Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Do you think they'll continue to assist us after these initial upgrades?"

She considered this, her gaze thoughtful. "It's possible. They may not take to the battlefield, but if the Illithids and other forces continue to disrupt the balance of our world, I believe the Flamels will not simply sit back and watch. They've seen what happens when power goes unchecked, and they are protectors of knowledge and balance."

The Pope nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Then it seems even the oldest powers are stirring. We stand a better chance than ever with allies like the Flamels joining us. Now, let us hope that those we train and equip can rise to meet the challenges ahead."

Chapter 301 "The Last Days of Peace"

The train chugged steadily back toward King's Cross Station, the familiar landscape rushing by as Harry gazed out the window, his thoughts drifting. Laughter and conversation filled the compartment, his friends talking and joking, each moment warm and light-hearted. Daphne sat beside him, her hand resting comfortably in his as she chatted with Tracy, sharing a quiet smile.

A knock on the compartment door drew everyone's attention. Luna, ever eager to welcome company, sprang up and opened it. Standing outside were Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, both wearing hopeful smiles.

"May we join you?" Susan asked, glancing around at the group.

Luna beamed. "Of course! The more, the merrier." She turned to Harry, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Harry, would you be so kind as to make extra room for everyone?"

Harry gave a slight nod, and with just the faintest glow in his eyes, the compartment began to shift and expand. The walls gently eased outward, allowing them more space to settle comfortably. The transformation happened seamlessly, without so much as a gesture from him.

Tracy watched in amused amazement. "Show-off," she teased. "He didn't even lift a finger."

Draco leaned back, smirking. "Oh, you just have to keep an eye on him. His eyes glow when he's at it. It's like he's got a bit of magic up his sleeve for everything."

Everyone chuckled, settling into the spacious compartment as Susan and Hannah found their seats. The warm atmosphere returned, laughter filling the air as they shared stories, snacks, and memories from their time at Hogwarts. It was one of those rare moments where all felt right, a treasured memory in the making.

Tracy eyed the new arrivals with a playful grin. "So, what brings two Hufflepuff badgers into the land of lions and snakes?"

Susan matched her smile, glancing at Neville. "Well, I won't be able to see my boyfriend until the Yule Ball," she said with a cheeky glint in her eyes as she and Hannah casually slid in beside Neville and Draco, each settling next to their chosen "boyfriend." Both boys looked stunned, their eyes wide with surprise.

Tracy raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Wait... what? How... When did this happen?" she stammered, clearly bewildered.

Daphne chuckled, nudging Tracy. "I think you may have just broken her, Susan."

Luna grinned from across the compartment, joining in the fun. "Daphne and I were just talking the other night, wondering when these two would finally grow a pair and ask you both out."

"Well," Susan said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Since they didn't ask, we decided to make it official ourselves."

Hannah nodded, smiling at Draco, who was still speechless. "Exactly. It's efficient, don't you think?"

Neville blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... I was going to ask if I was, but I didn't know..."

"Yes, and I was also planning to," Draco said, glancing down at Hannah with a faint blush, still processing the sudden turn of events.

The whole compartment broke into laughter at the boys' reactions,

Everyone turned to Harry, eyes expectant, waiting for him to chime in. He smirked, looking at Neville and Draco. "Honestly, I think you two could probably do better if they had to do the asking for you, " he teased.

Daphne burst into laughter, nudging him. "Oh, don't start, Harry. If I remember correctly, you didn't exactly ask me out, either. I'm pretty sure I just told you we were dating. So don't act like you're any braver than these two!"" She leaned back, grinning. "It's funny, really—all three of you can face down duelists, dark creatures, and even dark lords, but one cute girl and you're suddenly speechless."

Sitting across from him with her usual serene smile, Luna added, "Harry, you might want to get over that hesitation soon. You still have two more wives to find."

Silence filled the compartment, everyone staring in shock. "What?" came the chorus of voices, wide-eyed and in unison.

Luna shrugged, perfectly calm. "It's all rather obvious. He's part of an old magical line with multiple houses to uphold. It's only natural that—"

Tracy's eyes were wide as she looked between Harry and Luna. "Wait, are you saying he's supposed to... I mean... more than one?"

All eyes turned to Daphne, waiting for her reaction. She looked at Harry, unfazed, and raised an eyebrow. "Harry, did you think I didn't know?" she asked with a sly smile. "I grew up understanding how these things work. When someone holds more than one ancient house, they often need a separate wife for each—unless a house charter permits a single wife to bear heirs for all, which most don't. And as it happens, the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black specifically requires a separate marriage to secure its line." She paused, glancing around the compartment. "So, yes, Harry would need at least two wives."

The group sat stunned, processing her words, until Luna piped up with her usual serene honesty, "Well, technically, he'll need three wives."

Daphne nodded knowingly. "Yes, Luna's right. But that does beg the question. What exactly is this third title? The Potter and Black lines account for two, but there's a mystery one left."

Luna tilted her head, looking at Harry with a glint of amusement. "It's simple. The third title belongs to his role as the Lord of Death."

"What?" came the unanimous shout from everyone else, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

Luna gave an airy shrug as if she'd just mentioned the weather. "As the Heir of the Peverell family—the original masters of the Deathly Hallows—Harry is, by magical right, recognized as the Lord of Death. It's just an honorary title, mostly."

Neville stared, mouth agape. "Harry... Lord of Death?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah... it's a bit more complicated than I'd like. Not exactly something you can put in a job description, right?"

The room buzzed with laughter and stunned expressions as everyone tried to wrap their heads around the idea of their friend holding such an ominous title. Even Draco smirked, muttering, "And here I thought the name 'Chosen One' was dramatic enough."

Susan looked over at Daphne, a curious glint in her eye. "Are you okay with sharing Harry?"

Daphne glanced at Harry, a thoughtful expression on her face. "We haven't discussed it," she admitted, smiling softly. "We're still getting started with us, so this is all... a lot to take in." She leaned over and kissed him, her hand resting against his cheek. Harry returned the kiss, drawing laughter and teasing from the others.

Pulling back, Daphne sighed, her smile widening. "But yes, I understand. If it means being with him, I'll accept sharing Harry with two others. I might even ask him to Let me help him choose to ensure we all get along. After all, that's important, right?"

Luna grinned her voice light but carrying a hint of mischief. "True, but... we shouldn't forget that Harry has a knack for making enemies. You know, one slip-up and he could find himself cursed again."

A sudden silence fell over the group. "Wait," Tracy said, looking puzzled. "Cursed again?"

Harry chuckled, though a bit uneasily. "Honestly, it's all a bit foggy. I do remember... meeting someone. And let's say she wasn't happy with me." He scratched his head, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. "I was told that she had her way of punishing those who step out of line—especially those who mess with things that shouldn't be messed with."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "And you think making you take more wives was part of that punishment?"

Harry shrugged, trying not to laugh himself. "If it is, it's probably because she thinks it'll 'teach me a lesson.' After all, if I keep taking on impossible things, let's say she might've thought it was fitting."

The group broke into laughter, trying to picture the idea of Harry's supposed "punishment" by a figure who seemed determined to keep his life engaging in the most unexpected ways.

As Daphne and Tracy slipped to the bathroom, Tracy wasted no time, glancing at Daphne with a mischievous gleam. "Alright, spill it. I know exactly what you're thinking, Daph. You want Fleur as one of Harry's other wives, right?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. "And what makes you think that, Tracy?"

Tracy smirked, crossing her arms. "Because you've never been upset seeing him with her, even when he was photographed chatting at the dueling tournament. You know Fleur would make a strong addition. She's powerful. Her family has influence, and she's got that veela allure, which means their kids would be strong magically. So, if you're alright with her, then... well, it makes sense."

Daphne's eyes softened as she considered it. "Alright, you've got me there. Fleur would be a good match, powerful in her own right. I could see her fitting into this little arrangement."

"Okay," Tracy said with a nod, "but there's still the question of who would be the third."

Daphne tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, I already have a candidate in mind. And don't tell me you haven't thought of it, too."

Tracy blinked, confused for a moment, before realization dawned on her. Her face flushed, and she could barely get the words out. "Me? You're serious?"

Daphne nodded her expression kind and knowing. "Of course. Don't act so surprised, Tracy. I see the way you look at him. You pretend like you're just friends, but I know better. You hug him a little longer than anyone else, and it's always a real hug, not just over the shoulder. You have feelings for him, don't you?"

Tracy was silent, her expression vulnerable as she processed Daphne's words. After a moment, she managed a shy nod, her voice barely above a whisper. "I guess... I guess I do. But are you sure about this, Daphne? It's one thing to suggest, but to actually..."

Daphne reached out, squeezing Tracy's hand. "I am sure, Tracy. I was planning on talking to Harry about the idea anyway to get him used to it. And truthfully, I think he feels the same about you, even if he hasn't realized it yet. It's just his way, you know? He's got all this bravery, but he's still figuring things out regarding girls."

Tracy laughed, a tearful smile breaking through her uncertainty. "I can't believe it. We both fell for the same guy."

"Well," Daphne said with a soft chuckle, "we both always said it would have to be someone exceptional to win our hearts. And honestly, can you think of anyone more deserving or special than Harry?"

The two friends shared a hug, a moment of quiet understanding between them. They laughed softly, marveling at how life had turned out. It was unexpected, maybe even unconventional, but somehow, it felt right.

Chapter 302 "Kings Crossing"

As the train slowed at King's Cross Station, students began spilling onto the platform, hugging and saying their goodbyes. Harry, Draco, and Neville walked off together, laughing as they went. The moment Draco spotted his mother waiting on the platform, he broke away from his friends and ran to her, his arms wrapping around her tightly. It had been a long time since he'd hugged her like this, and Narcissa Malfoy, though surprised, couldn't help but smile as she held him close.

"I missed you, Mum," Draco murmured, his voice softened by affection.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she looked down at her son. "If you're trying to distract me, young man, it won't work. I did, after all, see my thirteen-year-old son kissing a girl in front of everyone. All those years of training, wasted," she teased playfully.

Draco blushed, pulling back slightly but still holding onto her. "Oh, come on, Mum… it was just a friendly kiss. Besides, I learned from the best."

Narcissa chuckled, ruffling his hair with a rare softness. "Well, just know that I'm watching you, Draco. But I suppose I've missed you more than you'll ever know."

Neville followed closely behind Draco, racing up to greet his family with a broad grin. The moment he reached his mother, she let out a warm laugh, pulling him into a tight hug, though she could barely get him now. He was already taller than she was, and his shoulders had filled with new muscle.

"Neville, did you sneak a growth potion or something?" she teased, looking him over. You've grown so tall and muscular! "

Neville chuckled, moving to embrace his father and grandmother. "It's all the working out and dueling practice," he explained, "and, of course, my relentless godbrother who's convinced we're training for the next war. He makes us do horrible exercises and never lets us rest."

Augusta Longbottom eyed him with a proud smile. "Well, it seems all that hard work is paying off. Though I must say, it takes a certain kind of bravery to kiss Susan Bones in front of her aunt, doesn't it?"

Neville's eyes widened in horror, his face turning a shade of pink. "Wait… Aunt Amelia saw that?" he stammered, imagining the formidable Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's disapproving glare. His father, Frank, chuckled, clapping him on the back.

"Oh yes, son, she did. And don't forget, she's not just Susan's aunt—she's my boss. You might be braver than I am."

Neville's face drained of color as he envisioned Amelia interrogating him with her fierce gaze, making the whole family laugh. Just as he was beginning to recover, his mother added with a glint in her eye, "And there's more news, Neville. You'll be having a little sister in about three months."

The announcement hit him like a thunderbolt. His eyes widened, and before he could process the news, his legs wobbled, and his eyes rolled back. He promptly fainted, falling back into his father's arms.

Augusta shook her head, unable to hide her amusement. "Ah, like father, like son. Both collapsing at the sight of great news." The family laughed, watching fondly as Neville's shock settled into a moment they'd all cherish.

Harry's face lit up when he spotted Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, and Tonks waiting for him on the platform. His keen senses also caught sight of the Crows—a team of discreet protectors—scattered around the perimeter, blending seamlessly with the bustling crowd. Feeling a wave of warmth and relief, he made his way over.

He hugged Andromeda first, her motherly embrace grounding him, followed by a quick, sisterly squeeze with Tonks, who grinned brightly at him. Then he turned to Sirius, who clapped him on the back with a laugh before pulling him into a bear hug. Remus, ever calm and steady, gave him a reassuring nod before embracing him with a fond smile.

"It's good to see you all," Harry said, glancing around at his family and friends, his heart swelling with gratitude.

Harry and his family arrived at Black Manor, the grand ancestral home that Andromeda now shared with her husband, Ted. Ted approached with a warm smile as they stepped inside, pulling Harry into a heartfelt hug. Harry returned it just as warmly.

"It's good to see you, Uncle Ted," Harry said, his voice filled with genuine affection.

"And you too, Harry," Ted replied, his eyes twinkling. "You've grown since I last saw you. Stronger, I think."

Andromeda looked on, a fond smile on her face. Once Ted stepped back, she gently touched Harry's shoulder. "We're so glad to have you here, Harry. But before we settle in for dinner, there are a few things we need to discuss."

Harry nodded, sensing the seriousness in her tone. "Of course, Andromeda. Whatever you need."

Together, they moved into the living room, where the warmth of the crackling fireplace welcomed them. Dobby and Kreacher appeared quietly, each with a tray, serving tea to the family. Harry's face broke into a grin as he saw his loyal elves, and he couldn't resist pulling each of them into a quick, grateful hug.

"It's so good to see you both, Dobby Kreacher," Harry said, his voice sincere.

The elves beamed up at him, eyes shining with loyalty and pride. With everyone seated comfortably, the room filled with a quiet calm as they sipped their tea, the anticipation of a heartfelt family conversation hanging in the air. Harry knew that whatever Andromeda wanted to discuss was necessary, and he was ready to listen. This was his true family—and nothing could mean more to him.

Andromeda settled into her chair, folding her hands thoughtfully. "Harry, the Werewolf Act is finally complete, and we have all the support we need to move it forward," she said, her tone resolute. "The Act essentially grants werewolves the full rights of any witch or wizard. They'll be treated as equal citizens, with all the same rights—and yes, the same responsibilities, including paying taxes."

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Paying taxes? I hadn't thought about that."

Andromeda nodded. "Right now, werewolves who earn money aren't required to pay taxes, which has marginalized them in some ways. But with this Act, they'll be full contributors to society. It'll benefit both sides—the Ministry will collect more taxes. In turn, they've agreed to purchase the ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion to ensure it's accessible to all registered werewolves."

Ted chimed in, smiling. "And here's where it gets interesting. It turns out that the Potters own property, and your mother and grandmother, Dorea Potter, turned it into a specialized greenhouse. All it grows are ingredients for Wolfsbane Potion. The Ministry will be purchasing these ingredients directly from your estate, so not only are you helping to fund this initiative, but it also brings an extra income to the Potter holdings."

Harry's eyes widened. "That's… brilliant. But what about the backers? I can't imagine the Dark Alliance will be pleased, and the Light Alliance might have their objections."

Andromeda gave him a reassuring smile. "We anticipated that, but it's already covered. The Neutral Faction is throwing its full support behind the Act. They're powerful enough to balance any objections from the Dark or Light factions. With their backing, we'll have enough influence to push the bill through, no matter who protests."

Harry exhaled, absorbing the information. "So, the werewolves get the support they need, the Ministry gains additional revenue, and the Potter family contributes meaningfully. It sounds like a win for everyone."

Andromeda nodded. "Exactly. And it's a fitting legacy for your family, Harry—helping to bridge gaps and protect those in need."

Sirius leaned back with a laugh, looking at Harry. "Seems like Lily was already thinking ahead for us, huh?"

Remus shook his head, clearly taken aback. "I can't believe James and Lily would do this… setting up the greenhouse to help werewolves. They must have had us in mind."

Sirius clapped a hand on Remus's shoulder, his eyes filled with warmth. "Of course they did, Moony. You were more than just a friend to James. You were his brother, and you were Harry's uncle from the moment he was born. You're family, no matter what."

Harry nodded, his gaze steady as he looked at Remus. "Sirius is right. You've always been family, Remus. You'll always have a place here with us."

Remus offered a small smile, touched by their words, but Harry wasn't finished. He eyed Sirius and Remus closely, with a hint of amusement. "By the way, I couldn't help but notice… you two look like you've been training. You're more muscled than the last time I saw you. What's going on?"

Sirius laughed again, but his voice flickered with pride this time. Remus exchanged a glance with him before answering. "We thought we could slip that past you, but it seems we can't. Yes, we've been training."

"With the Crows' home guard," Sirius added, but then he glanced at Andromeda and quickly fell silent.

Andromeda raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly. "It's fine, Sirius. Harry deserves to know. The Crows have been helping Sirius and Remus train, enhancing their combat skills. Given everything that's happened, we thought they best prepare in case they need to defend themselves—or you, Harry."

Harry nodded, impressed. "So, you're both taking your roles seriously, then. That's good to know."

Andromeda cleared her throat, her expression turning serious. "That brings us to our next topic. It seems there's movement behind the scenes, Harry. The Ministry is quietly organizing a volunteer company to send to South America. Captain Frank Longbottom has been chosen to lead the company, and… well, it's becoming clear that they're hoping you'll join them. "Harry's brow furrowed. "They're expecting me to go?"

Andromeda nodded. "Yes, the Ministry or the Goblin King will likely make a formal request after the Yule Ball. Once you receive your medals, they'll make the announcement. The world will know you're going to South America to face the undead."

Harry fell silent, processing the weight of the information. He could feel the gravity of what was being asked of him and the expectation that his presence might turn the tide in a brutal and dangerous conflict. After a moment, he looked at Sirius and Remus, already sensing their intentions. "Let me guess… you two plan to join me, don't you?"

Sirius grinned, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and determination. "Of course we do. We're not going to let you charge into war alone. "

Remus nodded, his face calm but resolute. "Once you agree to go, Harry, we'll be beside you. It's about time we got our hands dirty again, don't you think?""

Harry felt a surge of pride and gratitude as he looked at the two men who had been like family to him for so long. "You know it's going to be dangerous. "

Sirius chuckled, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "We're Marauders, remember? The danger is part of the job description."

Remus gave a small smile. "Wherever you go, Harry, we'll follow. This is a battle worth fighting."

Sirius sat back in his chair, his expression unusually serious, as he looked at Harry. "Alright, Harry, this is the last thing we need to discuss, and it's important. I've been reviewing the charters for the Potter and Black houses, and I've also consulted with the Peverell house charter. It seems all three are aligned on a particular issue, which we can't ignore."

Harry raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "What kind of issue?"

Sirius sighed. "According to the charters, you must be engaged by your fifth year and married by age twenty. It's a binding clause for the heads of these houses to ensure the continuation of their lines. I know this is sudden, but we must start planning for it."

Harry's mouth opened, but no words came out. Finally, he managed, "And you're just telling me this now?"

Sirius smirked faintly. "Better late than never, kiddo. I've already discussed this with Lady Greengrass, and she agrees. If you and Daphne are serious about each other, you should take the proper steps. She suggested giving her a promise ring by the end of her fourth year, a betrothal ring during her fifth year, and an engagement ring in her sixth year. That would set the stage for both to decide when to marry, so long as it's before you turn twenty."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, the weight of the information settling heavily on him. "And Daphne… she knows about this?

Sirius nodded. "She's aware, and her family supports it. Harry, this doesn't have to be as daunting as it sounds. If you love her, this is just a formal way of showing it."

Harry exhaled deeply, his mind racing. "Alright," he finally said. "If this is required, I'll make it happen. Daphne deserves nothing less.

Andromeda entered the conversation, her gaze severe yet calm as she sat. "Harry, this is the hard part of the conversation," she began, her tone making clear she was about to drop a weighty topic.

Harry blinked. "That wasn't the hard part? The whole betrothal rings and timeline thing seemed pretty hard to me."

Andromeda shook her head with a wry smile. "No, Harry, that wasn't the hard part. The real issue is this: you can't have just one wife to represent all three houses. Each house requires its wife."

Harry inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath, his face calm but his green eyes thoughtful. "Daphne already mentioned this to me," he said quietly. "She's well ahead of me on this. We plan to talk it through Tomorrow when we go shopping. I think she's already decided on a plan for the other wives."

Sirius burst out laughing, shaking his head fondly. "She is just like your mother, Harry. Lily was always three steps ahead of the rest of us. She'd inform James of her plans, and he'd respond with a ''Yes, dear,'' without hesitation. " His laughter was infectious, and soon, the room filled with chuckles.

Andromeda smiled warmly at Harry. "Are you indeed alright with this, Harry? It's a lot to take on, even for someone as capable as you. "

Harry shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smile. "I've already accepted it. A certain being of power made it clear this was my punishment. I'll take it like a grown-up. Daphne's fully on board and even offered to help me find the other two I'll need."

Andromeda's smile widened. "I knew I liked that girl," she said approvingly, earning a laugh from Sirius.

"Well," Sirius added, "if anyone can handle this, it's you, Harry. And Daphne."

As Daphne and her parents stepped into Greengrass Manor, her little sister, Astoria, ran over and hugged her tightly. Where's Harry?"" Astoria asked, looking around with a pout.

Daphne rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "He'll be over after Christmas Day, Tori. You'll have plenty of time to get to know him better."

Astoria grinned mischievously. "Good! I like him already, you know."

Daphne's father raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "So, Daphne, your mother tells me that you've been showing quite the open display of affection for young Mr. Potter again?"

Daphne's eyes went wide in shock, her cheeks flushing. "How did you know about that?"

Her mother chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. "A certain Professor McGonagall mentioned it during a meeting with other professors. She seemed rather… amused by the whole thing."

Daphne took a deep breath, quickly recovering from her embarrassment. "Well, what did they expect? He was missing, and when he came back… he'd just freed Hogwarts from the curse of the Dark Lady Morgana. I was just… relieved."

Her father laughed, crossing his arms as he looked at her. "Relieved enough to kiss him in the Great Hall, in front of the entire school."

Daphne huffed, trying to keep a dignified expression. "It's not like I planned it, alright? He just showed up, and after everything he'd been through… well, it felt right."

Her mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Daphne's shoulder. "I understand, dear. Just remember, you'll have to keep showing some restraint around the professors. Professor McGonagall has had her fill of public displays from the two of you."

Daphne smiled sheepishly. "Alright, I'll try. But it's hard sometimes… he's been through so much. I want him to feel cared for."

Astoria rolled her eyes, but there was a soft smile on her face. "You're hopeless, Daphne. But don't worry—I'll help keep you two out of trouble. Someone has to keep an eye on you."

Her father chuckled, giving Daphne a wink. "Seems like your little sister has taken on the role of chaperone. Watch yourself, Daphne."

Daphne just laughed, glancing at her family. Despite the teasing, she felt warmth and acceptance from them, a reassurance that they supported her relationship with Harry. A feeling of home made her look forward to introducing Harry even more to her family over the holidays.

Chapter 303 ""The Talk""

Roxanne Greengrass looked up from her tea, her sharp eyes focusing on her daughter. "Have a fun day with Harry, darling. And while you're at it, make sure to find out the color of the robe suit he will wear to the Ministry Ball. I want to ensure we design your dress to match perfectly."

Daphne smiled, her expression both amused and affectionate. "Don't worry, Mother. I'll handle it. For your information, I'll pick out his robe suit. Roxanne nodded approvingly. "Good. Make sure everything is perfect. This isn't just about appearances; it's about making a statement."

Daphne laughed softly. "Of course, Mother. Trust me, Harry will look incredible, and I'll ensure I match him flawlessly. But first, I have to survive shopping with him." She stood, giving her mother a playful wink before heading out the door, her thoughts already filled with plans for the day ahead.

Daphne stepped out of the floo into Diagon Alley, brushing soot from her elegant green cloak. The winter air nipped at her cheeks, but the festive atmosphere of the alley made the chill feel almost magical. Wreaths of enchanted holly adorned every shopfront, and fairy lights danced above the cobblestone streets, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowds. She spotted Harry leaning casually against a lamppost near Gringotts, his black coat and scarf making him stand out against the colorful holiday scene.

"Running late again, Greengrass?" Harry teased with a grin as she approached.

Daphne smirked. "You're lucky you're cute, Potter. Now, let's get started before the shops are overrun."

Their first stop was the upscale boutique where Sophie Delacroix worked her magic. Inside, the air was filled with the scent of fresh linen and the soft hum of enchanted tailoring tools. Sophie greeted them with her signature elegance, her dark hair tied back as she ushered them toward the fitting room.

"Ah, Monsieur Potter, Mademoiselle Greengrass," she said, with a thick yet charming French accent. "We have prepared several designs for you, but I believe this one," she gestured to a sleek black robe suit with silver embroidery, "will make the perfect statement for the ball."

Harry entered the fitting room while Daphne stood outside, selecting ties and cufflinks. Daphne's breath hitched when Harry emerged, dressed in the tailored robes. The robes fit him perfectly, exuding power and sophistication.

"You'll do," she said with a teasing smirk, though her tone betrayed her approval.

After finalizing Harry's robes, they spent the rest of the afternoon strolling through the alley, shopping for Christmas gifts. At Twilfitt and Tattings, Daphne helps Harry choose a fine set of gloves for Sirius, while Harry insists on buying an enchanted quill set for Daphne, ignoring her protests. "Consider it a thank-you for putting up with me today," he said with a grin.

They wandered into Flourish and Blotts, where Harry picked up a rare herbology book for Neville and a leather-bound journal for Luna. Daphne, meanwhile, eyed a set of crystal vials for Tracy, knowing her friend would appreciate the thoughtful gift.

Their last stop was the Magical Menagerie, where Harry surprised Daphne by buying a small, enchanted snow globe filled with a tiny replica of Hogwarts, complete with snow gently falling. "For when you miss the castle," he said softly, handing it to her.

Touched, Daphne smiled and slipped her arm through his. "You're impossible, Potter. But thank you."

As they exited the shop, the sun was at midday. The laughter and chatter of holiday shoppers filled the air. Harry and Daphne strolled through the snow-dusted streets of London, the festive holiday lights casting a soft glow over their path. Daphne's arm was looped through Harry's, and her cheeks were pink from the cold—or perhaps from the warmth of his company.

"You know," Daphne teased, "you didn't have to go all out for dinner. A simple meal at the Leaky Cauldron would've been fine."

Harry smirked. "You'll thank me once you taste the food. Besides, Andromeda made the reservations, and I wasn't about to refuse her advice. She said this place has the best French cuisine outside of Paris."

The faint aroma of butter, garlic, and freshly baked bread filled the air as they approached the restaurant. The building was elegant, its entrance framed by ivy-wrapped lanterns and a sign that read La Lumière Étoilée. Harry noticed five members of the Crow Home Guard subtly positioned nearby, trying to blend into the crowd. He shook his head with a faint smile, choosing not to draw attention to them. Their attempts at subtlety were improving but not enough to fool him.

The maître d', a sharply dressed wizard with a meticulously groomed mustache, greeted them at the door. "Bonsoir, Monsieur Potter, Mademoiselle Greengrass," he said smoothly, his thick French accent charming. "Your table is ready. Please, follow me."

The restaurant's interior was exquisite, with chandeliers of enchanted crystal casting soft, golden light over white-linen tables. Gentle music from a string quartet filled the air, blending seamlessly with the quiet hum of conversation. Harry pulled out Daphne's chair before taking his seat across from her.

"This is beautiful," Daphne said, her eyes wide as she took in the surroundings.

"Only the best for you," Harry replied with a grin, signaling the start of a perfect evening.

Harry and Daphne savored the delicious French cuisine, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating their table as the quiet hum of conversation surrounded them. Harry took a sip of his drink, a magical concoction called Aurora Nectar, which shimmered faintly with hues of blue and gold. The flavor was a perfect blend of citrus and honey, with a hint of mint that left a refreshing aftertaste. Setting the glass down, he leaned forward, his green eyes meeting Daphne's. "Alright," he said, "I'm listening."

Daphne smiled, her expression thoughtful as she gently squeezed his hand. "I've been thinking about your other two wives," she began, her voice calm and measured. "I have an idea for one of them. Tell me what you think."

Harry raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his glowing eyes. "Alright, go on."

Daphne took a moment, her other hand idly tracing the rim of her glass. "The easy choice is Tracy."

Harry blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Tracy?"

Daphne nodded, her smile reassuring. "Yes, Tracy. She already likes you, Harry. It's obvious to me—and probably everyone else. She cares deeply about you, and I've seen how you treat her. You always ensure she's comfortable, just like you do for me. You even wanted to bring her along on our first date."

Harry looked stunned momentarily, leaning back in his chair as he processed her words. "I—wow," he said softly. "I guess I do. I've never thought of it like that, but now that you've pointed it out…"

Daphne squeezed his hand again, her smile warm. "She'd be an easy choice, Harry. Someone we both care about and trust."

Harry's lips twitched into a smile. "You're right. I could see how that would work. Tracy, huh?" He laughed lightly. "You are always one step ahead of me."

Daphne grinned. "Always, Potter. Always.

Harry and Daphne were finishing their meal when Daphne leaned forward, her sapphire eyes sparkling with mischief and something more profound. "Now, as for the third wife," she said, her voice soft yet steady, "I think you already know who it should be."

Harry blinked, caught off guard. "I do?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Daphne smirked knowingly. "Yes, Harry. If you hadn't met me first, I believe you'd be trying to win the attention of Fleur Delacour."

Harry's mouth opened, then closed, at a loss for words. "Fleur?" he finally managed.

Daphne nodded, her expression calm but resolute. "I've seen how you talk about her. Your whole face lit up when you mentioned her after the Dueling Tournament. Your eyes were glowing like you'd seen something magical."

Harry leaned back in his chair, stunned. "You think so?" he asked quietly, almost as if he didn't trust his thoughts.

Daphne smiled gently. "Yes, Harry. I can tell that, on some level, you're attracted to her. And I think she feels the same way about you. She wouldn't have kissed you on the cheeks like that if she didn't."

Harry tried to argue, but he couldn't. Deep down, he knew Daphne was right. If there was anyone who could rival her for his attention, it was Fleur. She had always exuded an aura of Grace and strength that he admired, but he'd met Daphne first, and his heart had already belonged to her.

Still, the idea of Fleur being part of his life in such a meaningful way was almost too good to be true. Overwhelmed, Harry reached across the table, cupping Daphne's face, and kissed her deeply. It wasn't just a kiss—a promise, a thank you, and a declaration of everything she meant to him. Daphne smiled against his lips, knowing she had just given him another reason to fight for their future.

Daphne returned the kiss, her cheeks flushed with warmth, then leaned back in her chair, a playful glint in her sapphire eyes. I'm planning to write to Fleur tonight, " she said confidently. "I'll explain everything and see if she's interested. If she's not, we'll keep looking, but I feel she'll jump at the chance. After all, it's not every day you meet someone immune to her allure."

Harry smiled softly, his green eyes glowing with gratitude. "The gods smiled on me the day I met you, Daphne Greengrass."

She smirked, unsure if it was luck or a curse. You are lucky; I like a guy who is always out to save the world.

Chapter 304 "The Davis House"

The Davis family sat gathered at the long oak dining table, laughter and conversation flowing freely as they shared their evening meal. Tracy's father, Richard Davis, a tall man with a commanding presence but a warm smile, recounted a humorous story from work. Her brothers—Michael, the eldest, with his wife Clara, and Daniel, a boisterous middle child seated beside Lila—chimed in with their anecdotes, filling the room with vibrant chatter. The youngest of her brothers, Evan, still unmarried, teased Daniel about his earlier mishap while playing Quidditch.

Amidst the merriment, Grace Davis, Tracy's mother, a graceful woman with sharp eyes and a nurturing demeanor, glanced at her daughter. Tracy, usually lively and quick to contribute, had barely touched her meal and wore an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression. Grace's sharp intuition as a mother kicked in, and she set down her fork. Her gaze was soft but concerned.

"Tracy, dear, is everything alright? " she asked gently, her voice cutting through the noise like a soft bell.

The table fell silent, all eyes now on Tracy. Michael raised an eyebrow, Daniel smirked teasingly, and Evan leaned forward, curious. Even Clara and Lila exchanged quick, questioning glances.

Tracy blinked, startled by the sudden attention. She hesitated momentarily, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. Finally, she looked up, her face flushing slightly. "I'm fine, Mum," she said, attempting a smile but failing to mask the nervousness in her voice.

Richard leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "Are you sure, pumpkin? You've been quiet tonight."

Tracy sighed, realizing she couldn't dodge the question much longer. "Well," she began hesitantly, "there's... something I need to talk to you all about."

Tracy took a deep breath, steadying herself as she prepared to break the news. "Well, you see... I have a boyfriend, " she said, her voice soft but clear.

The room fell silent, the clinking of cutlery against plates ceasing instantly. Her eldest brother, Michael, looked up from his food, eyebrows raised. Daniel froze mid-bite, staring at her with wide eyes. Even Evan, who was usually the jokester, seemed momentarily stunned. Grace, ever the composed matriarch, glanced at her husband, Richard. He opened his mouth to speak, but Grace placed a calming hand on his arm, signaling him to let her lead.

"Who is this young man that we didn't know existed? " Grace asked, her tone calm but laced with curiosity.

Tracy hesitated, fidgeting with her napkin. "Well... you do know him. You've met him before. "

Grace and Richard exchanged a look, their curiosity mixed with confusion. "Alright, " Richard said, leaning forward slightly, "what's his name?"

Tracy smiled nervously, her cheeks flushing. "His name is Harry Potter."

The reaction was immediate. Michael nearly dropped his fork, Daniel choked on his drink, and Evan let out a startled laugh. "Wait, wait," Evan said, holding up his hand. "Harry Potter? As in the Harry Potter?"

Grace blinked, her composure faltering for the first time. "Tracy," she said slowly, "isn't Harry Potter dating your best friend, Daphne?"

Tracy's smile grew a little more confident. "Yes, Mum, he is. And now he's dating me too."

The room exploded into a cacophony of voices.

"How is that even possible?" Evan exclaimed, looking completely baffled.

"What do you mean 'too'?" Michael demanded, leaning forward like he hadn't heard her correctly.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Daniel added, his tone incredulous.

Tracy held up her hands, laughing nervously. "Calm down, everyone! Let me explain."

Grace raised a hand, silencing the commotion. "Alright, Tracy. Explain."

"Well," Tracy began, "Harry isn't just a regular wizard. He's the head of three Most Ancient and Noble Houses: Potter, Black, and one other that I'm not allowed to name yet. According to the charters of these houses, he needs a wife for each one. That's why he's dating both Daphne and I."

This revelation left everyone stunned.

"That's... insane," Daniel muttered, shaking his head. "I mean, I knew he was the head of the Potter and Black houses, but I had no idea about a third house. What is it?"

Tracy shook her head. "I can't say. Harry doesn't want that information to be common knowledge yet."

Evan leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting from disbelief to amazement. "So, let me get this straight. Harry Potter—the Harry Potter—is dating not just one, but two witches, and you're one of them?"

"Yes," Tracy said firmly, her confidence growing. "And before anyone asks, Daphne knows. She's the one who encouraged this. She wants us all to get along."

Richard, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice measured. "And are you okay with this, Tracy? Sharing your boyfriend?"

Tracy nodded. "Yes, Dad. It's not about competition or anything like that. Harry cares about us, and Daphne and I care about each other too. We make this work because we want to, not because we must."

Grace studied her daughter, her expression softening. "As long as you're happy, Tracy, that matters."

"I am, Mum," Tracy said with a genuine smile. "I am."

The room settled into an uneasy silence, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Then Evan, ever the jokester, broke it with a grin. "So... does that mean I get to meet the famous Harry Potter? Maybe ask for some dueling tips?"

The family erupted into laughter, breaking the tension as Tracy relaxed, grateful for their support.

Grace leaned back in her chair, her fingers delicately gripping the stem of her wine glass. She took a small sip, her thoughtful gaze never leaving her daughter. "Tracy," she began, her tone calm but interested, "you said Harry is the head of three houses. So, who's the third witch?"

Tracy smiled softly, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I can't say just yet, Mum," she replied, shaking her head lightly. "Daphne is writing to her tonight to see if she's interested. That's all I can tell you for now."

Grace raised an eyebrow, intrigued but patient. "So, Daphne is handling this?" she asked.

"Yes," Tracy confirmed, her smile growing. "Daphne and I discussed it and agreed this witch might be the perfect fit. She's someone Harry has already met, and—well, let's say there's potential there."

Richard, who had been quietly observing the conversation, leaned forward. "Is she someone we know?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Tracy shook her head. "No, Dad. She's not British. She's from another country and two years ahead of us."

Michael, always quick to join a conversation, smirked. "So she's older and from abroad? Sounds exotic. Are you sure Harry hasn't already fallen for her?"

Tracy laughed a warm sound that eased the tension. "I don't think so, but they have a connection, but that's all I will say now. We'll have to wait and see what she says."

Grace nodded approvingly, her expression softening. "Alright, Tracy. Just promise me you'll take things one step at a time. It sounds like Harry has a lot to handle."

Tracy smiled, grateful for her mother's understanding. "I will, Mum. I promise."

Chapter 305 "Letters in the Night"

Daphne sat at her desk, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating her room as she carefully penned the letter, her quill gliding across the parchment with deliberate strokes. She took a deep breath, reviewing her words before continuing.

Dear Ms. Delacour,

I hope this letter finds you well. Allow me to introduce myself properly: my name is Daphne Greengrass, and my boyfriend is Harry Potter-Black. Given the dueling tournament and his infamous knack for making an impression wherever he goes, I'm sure you already know him.

First, let me assure you this is not a letter from a jealous girlfriend warning you to stay away from her boyfriend—quite the opposite. I wanted to reach out to you about something essential.

As the head of three Ancient and Noble Houses—Potter, Black, and another that I am not at liberty to name—Harry is bound by tradition to have three wives. It's an ancient law tied to the legacy of these houses, and I'm sure you understand the weight of such traditions better than most. Knowing this, I want to ask you: do you like Harry? If you do, that's okay—more than okay.

I've noticed that when he speaks about you, there's a particular light in his eyes, a grin he gets only when he's talking about people he truly values. And when I saw the picture of you and your friend, Clare Laurent, I recognized that smile immediately—it's the same one he wears around his closest friends.

If you do care for him and would consider pursuing a relationship with him, I'd like to extend an olive branch. If you choose to join this journey with Harry and I, we'll need to build a strong bond between us. It won't be easy—Harry's life is filled with danger and unpredictability. War and adventure seem drawn to him like moths to a flame. But he is loyal, kind, and worth every risk.

I'm including my Floo address and mailing address in this letter. If you're interested, I'd love for us to get to know each other better. If not, I understand entirely, and there will be no hard feelings. Either way, please write back with your decision, as I want to respect your feelings and give you the space you deserve.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I look forward to hearing from you.

Warm regards,
Daphne Greengrass

Daphne set her quill down, her heart beating faster than usual. She folded the parchment neatly, sealing it with her family crest, and placed it aside, ready for the owl post the following day. It was bold, she thought, but sometimes boldness was precisely what was needed.

Chapter 306 "Letter Received and Exchanged"

Fleur picked up the morning paper from the table, her movements graceful and practiced, when her eyes fell upon an unfamiliar envelope resting beside it. The parchment was crisp, bearing a strange coat of arms she didn't recognize, but its presence intrigued her.

She knew no cursed mail could breach the protective wards surrounding her home, yet something about this letter felt… different. Carefully setting the paper aside, she carried the letter to her room, her heart quickening with curiosity. Closing the door behind her, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, her pulse racing as she began to read.

Fleur's fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the parchment, her eyes instantly drawn to the elegant script spelled out the sender's name: Daphne Greengrass. Her heart fluttered—she recognized the name, of course—a Slytherin from Hogwarts, but more importantly, the girlfriend of Harry Potter-Black.

She sank onto the edge of her bed, smoothing the parchment against her lap as she began to read. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the words, and with each sentence, her pulse quickened.

Harry Potter-Black. Head of three Ancient and Noble Houses. Three wives.

Her breath caught in her throat. She'd heard rumors about Harry's ascension to the headship of the Black family, but to see it written so plainly—along with the revelation of his additional responsibilities—was overwhelming and surreal.

Her fingers brushed over the line about how Harry smiled when he spoke of her and how Daphne noticed his "goofy grin" when her name was mentioned. A warmth spread through her chest, mingling with disbelief. She'd always thought Harry was kind and respectful during the tournament, but she never imagined he held her in such high regard.

Then came the next part of the letter—the olive branch, the open invitation. Daphne had extended an offer, not of rivalry or contention, but of understanding and partnership. Fleur's heart raced as she reread the words. "If you care for him and would consider pursuing a relationship with him…"

How could this be? She had dreamed of this—a bond not born from jealousy or suspicion but one freely given. Yet, the rational part of her mind warred with the emotions swelling in her chest. It felt almost too good to be true.

Her hands tightened slightly around the letter. Danger, Daphne had written. War and adventure seem drawn to him like moths to a flame. Fleur closed her eyes, picturing Harry—not the Boy Who Lived, but the young man she'd come to admire. She had always seen the strength in him, the kind heart buried beneath the weight of responsibility. But was she ready to step into that life of constant peril?

Still, there was something undeniable about how the words on the parchment resonated with her. She reread the part about Harry's loyalty, worth, and the understanding Daphne sought to build. A smile slowly curved across Fleur's lips.

She placed the letter on her desk and stared out the window, her thoughts racing. This was not a decision to take lightly, but the opportunity to build something extraordinary—a partnership, a family—was not something she could ignore. Before she would write a reply, she would get her mother's opinion on the matter.

Fleur raced down the grand staircase, her silken hair flowing behind her, clutching the letter tightly. Her breath was quick, her heart racing as she entered the kitchen. The warm scent of café au lait and fresh pastries filled the air, but Fleur barely noticed. Sitting around the table were her mother, Apolline, her younger sister, Gabrielle, and her grandmother, Élodie Devereux, all immersed in quiet conversation.

"Mother, I need to speak with you," Fleur said, her voice urgent. Her eyes flicked to her grandmother. "And I'm glad Grand-mère is here as well."

Apolline raised an elegant eyebrow, instantly attuned to her daughter's unease. She gestured for Fleur to sit beside her, but Fleur remained standing, her energy too restless to stay still. Concerned, Apolline reached for the letter. "What is it, ma fille? What have you so agitated?"

Fleur hesitated for a moment before handing over the letter. "This arrived this morning. It is… it is about Harry Potter-Black."

At the mention of the name, Élodie's keen blue eyes, so similar to Fleur's, narrowed with interest. "Potter-Black, you say? The young man from Heros Hill?"

"Yes," Fleur replied, her voice quieter now. She glanced at her mother as Apolline unfolded the letter and began to read, her expression shifting from curiosity to deep thought.

Gabrielle watched silently, her youthful face lighting with curiosity. "Is he the one who fought with papa Fleur?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Fleur said again, though her focus remained on her mother.

Apolline's lips pressed together as she read, her eyes flicking over the elegant handwriting. When she finished, she carefully placed the letter on the table as if the weight of its words extended far beyond the parchment. She exhaled slowly, meeting Fleur's anxious gaze.

"And this comes from Daphne Greengrass," Apolline said, her tone even. "Harry's girlfriend."

"Yes," Fleur confirmed, wringing her hands nervously. "What do you think?"

Before Apolline could respond, Élodie reached for the letter, her fingers as steady and sure as they had always been. The matriarch of the Devereux family read in silence, her sharp eyes betraying little. When she finished, she set the letter beside her cup, folding her hands neatly.

"It is an intriguing offer," Élodie said, her voice smooth but firm. "Daphne is remarkably astute. This is not the plea of a jealous girl; she is extending an olive branch, recognizing the realities of Harry's position and inviting you into it. Rarely do you find such wisdom in someone so young."

Apolline nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I agree. But the question remains, Fleur: how do you feel about it? Do you care for Harry? Enough to even consider this path?"

Fleur hesitated, her hands tightening on the back of the chair. "I do not know," she admitted. "I care for him, yes. But this… this is so much more. It is a life of danger, of sharing. I need to think carefully."

Élodie's gaze softened slightly. "Then think, child, but not for too long. Harry Potter-Black is a rare man, and opportunities like this do not come twice."

Apolline reached out, squeezing Fleur's hand gently. "Whatever you decide, ma fille, we will support you. But I agree with your Grand-mère—Daphne's offer is as genuine as extraordinary. Few women would take such a step."

Fleur nodded, her mind swirling with emotions as she prepared to decide.

Gabrielle had been quietly listening to the conversation, her young face thoughtful as she observed the adults. She might not fully understand the weight of what was being discussed, but her keen instincts told her this was important. After silence, she set down her fork and looked at Fleur with surprising clarity.

"What do you mean you don't know, Fleur?" Gabrielle asked, her voice carrying a wisdom far beyond her years. "You talk about him all the time. You and Clare are always going on about Harry—how kind he is, how he treated you during the tournament, and how your allure didn't affect him."

Her words made the entire room pause. Fleur blinked, her mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but Gabrielle wasn't finished. "Just think about everything you've ever said about him," Gabrielle continued, her tone steady but gentle. "You said he's brave, loyal, and treats everyone with respect. You even told me once that he thinks of his girlfriend before anyone else, even when you're in the same room. Who else would do that?"

Gabrielle picked up her fork and took a bite of her croissant, her nonchalant action making her words even more impactful. She chewed thoughtfully, utterly unaware of how her observation had stunned everyone into silence.

Finally, Élodie chuckled softly, breaking the tension. "It seems the youngest among us has a better grasp of your feelings than you do, Fleur."

Apolline smiled warmly, her hand resting on Fleur's. "Your sister has a point, ma fille. Perhaps you've already decided—you must admit it to yourself."

Fleur looked at Gabrielle, who gave her a knowing smile, and then back at the letter. The simplicity of Gabrielle's words left her with much to consider.

Fleur couldn't help herself. She lunged at Gabrielle, enveloping her in a tight, joyous hug. "I owe you all the ice cream you can eat for the rest of your life, ma petite soeur chérie!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with affection and gratitude.

Gabrielle giggled, her arms wrapping around Fleur in return. "I will hold you to that, Fleur," she teased, her smile as wide as ever.

Fleur grinned, her heart lighter than it had been in days. "You deserve more than that, you know. You've made me realize what I've been too stubborn to admit."

With that, Fleur quickly grabbed the letter from the table, a sense of urgency flooding her. She was done hesitating. Daphne's offer had made her heart race; now, she knew what to do. Without wasting another moment, Fleur rushed up the stairs to her room.

Élodie and Apolline exchanged amused glances while Gabrielle grinned triumphantly, proud of her role in the moment.

Upstairs in her room, Fleur settled at her desk, pulling out fresh parchment. Her quill hovered over the page momentarily as she composed her thoughts, her mind buzzing excitedly. Once finished, she will use the Floo mail service to ensure Daphne receives her response today. It would cost extra, but time was of the essence for something this important. Fleur's heart raced as she began to write.

Dear Miss Greengrass,

First, thank you for your letter. I was pretty surprised to receive it, but I am grateful for your honesty and the thoughtfulness you wrote to me. Not every day one receives such a message, especially about a matter so… personal.

Yes, I know Harry well. He has been on my mind since meeting him at Hogwarts after the model show, and your words only confirmed much of what I have felt but never allowed myself to acknowledge honestly. He is remarkable—kind, brave, and stronger than anyone I have ever met. Your description of his smile when speaking of me was unexpected but profoundly touching. I have always admired how he carries himself, treating everyone with dignity despite the weight of his responsibilities. And, as you so kindly pointed out, he has a way of making those around him feel special.

You are correct: I do care for him. However, your letter has given me much to consider. Sharing a life with Harry means accepting his affection and the dangers surrounding him. I know the risks involved—his path is not one of peace but of battles and burdens few could bear. Yet, even knowing that, I cannot deny my feelings for him.

Your openness and willingness to build a relationship with me is something I deeply respect. Many in your position would not have extended such kindness, and for that, I am grateful. I can already see why Harry holds you in such high regard. If he has chosen you as his partner, you must be extraordinary.

I want to meet you, Miss Greengrass—to discuss Harry and begin building the bond you mentioned. If we are to share a future connected to him, we must also find trust and friendship. Thank you for your honesty and for reaching out. It speaks to your strength and Grace, and I look forward to hearing from you again.

Warm regards,
Fleur Delacour

Fleur folded the letter carefully, sealing it with her family's crest. With a smile, she placed it into the Floo mail and watched as the flames whisked it away, carrying her response to Daphne. Her heart felt lighter, yet her mind was alive, anticipating what this decision might bring.

Daphne was organizing her holiday gifts when the fireplace in her sitting room flared to life, its emerald flames casting a flickering light across the room. She turned her head, curious, as a single envelope slid neatly into the Floo inbox. Straightening her robes, she walked over, her brow furrowed. Few people used Floo mail—it was prohibitively expensive and reserved for only the most urgent or essential communications.

Her eyes fell on the envelope, and her breath hitched when she saw the name written in elegant, flowing script: Fleur Delacour. Daphne's heart raced. She had expected a reply, of course, but not this quickly. The letter must have cost a small fortune to send via Floo mail so soon after her own had been delivered.

She carefully picked up the envelope, her fingers brushing the smooth parchment. For a moment, she hesitated. What if the response was rejection? What if Fleur had read her letter and decided that the idea of sharing Harry, or even considering such a relationship, was out of the question? But no—Fleur didn't strike Daphne as someone who would respond hastily to say no. The effort alone spoke volumes.

Taking a steadying breath, Daphne sat down on the plush chair by the fire and broke the seal with a practiced motion. As she unfolded the letter, her nerves gave way to curiosity. Fleur's elegant handwriting filled the page, and Daphne began to read, her eyes moving quickly across the words.

With every sentence, her tension eased, and a small, genuine smile began to tug at her lips. The letter was thoughtful, warm, and—most importantly—it conveyed an openness that Daphne had hoped for but hadn't dared to expect fully. Fleur hadn't rejected the idea; she seemed willing to explore it further.

When she finished reading, Daphne sat back, releasing a soft laugh of relief. "Well, Harry," she murmured, glancing at the letter again, "it seems things just became even more interesting." She folded the letter carefully, placing it on the table beside her, already thinking about how to respond.

Daphne sat at her desk, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the parchment before her. Her quill hovered over the page as she considered how to word such an unusual request. Her cheeks burned as the idea replayed in her mind, bold and deeply personal. Taking a deep breath, she dipped the quill into the ink and began to write.

Dear Fleur,

First, let me thank you for your incredibly thoughtful and swift reply. I hadn't expected to hear back from you so quickly, and to say that I was relieved and excited to read your words would be an understatement. Your openness and willingness to consider what I wrote mean more than I can fully express.

You are precisely the person I imagined you to be: graceful, kind, and thoughtful. Your reply confirmed what I have already believed—that you would be an excellent addition to Harry's life, not just as someone he cares for, but as someone who can stand beside him in all the trials he inevitably faces. Trust me when I say being with Harry is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Danger seems to follow him wherever he goes, yet he faces it with a bravery that inspires everyone around him.

Which brings me to why I am writing to you again so soon. I imagine you've heard whispers about what may happen after the Yule Ball. The Ministry and ICW are preparing to ask Harry to go to South America to fight the undead forces ravaging those lands. As much as I want to fight it, Harry will agree—it's simply who he is. He'll put himself on the line for others without hesitation, no matter how dangerous it may be.

That's why I've devised a plan and need your help. I believe Harry will need something to keep his spirits up, a reason to return to us in one piece. Perhaps we could give him a special gift—a picture that reminds him of what he's fighting to return to. Something personal, intimate, and meaningful. If you're willing, I'd love for you to take a photo; only Harry will see it. It doesn't need to be overly suggestive, but what you do in the picture will be up to you. It will be enough to show him how much we care and remind him of the life waiting for him when he comes home. I will be sending him a picture as well. It will be my in my night shirt showing enough to keep him up at night and want to race back to me.

Please let me know if you're comfortable with this. I genuinely believe it would mean the world to him and perhaps help keep him safe. Thank you again for your understanding and for considering this slightly unconventional request.

I look forward to hearing from you again soon.

Warm regards,
Daphne Greengrass

Daphne carefully sealed the letter, her cheeks still pink from her bold idea. She smiled, knowing that this small Act of love might make a difference for Harry in future battles. She headed straight for the Floo, determined to send her letter immediately.

Fleur's heart skipped a beat as the familiar emerald flames of the Floo mail flared in the family's grand fireplace. A single envelope materialized in the inbox, its seal unmistakable. Setting aside the book she'd been halfheartedly reading, Fleur crossed the room quickly, plucking the letter from its resting place.

When she saw the name on the envelope—Daphne Greengrass—her heart raced. Already? she thought, her fingers tightening slightly around the parchment. The sheer speed of the reply made her pulse quicken with anticipation and curiosity.

A delighted laugh bubbled out of her as she turned and dashed for the stairs, her silvery hair flying behind her. She passed her mother, Apolline, in the hallway. Apolline raised an elegant eyebrow, surprised by her daughter's uncharacteristic haste.

""Fleur? What is it? What's going on?"" Apolline called after her, but Fleur was already halfway up the staircase, her laughter trailing behind her.

"Nothing, Mama! Just a letter!"" Fleur shouted back, not pausing for an explanation.

Apolline exchanged a bemused glance with Gabrielle, who was peeking out of her room. "She's been like this all morning," Gabrielle said with a shrug. "I think it's about Harry."

Apolline's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Of course it is."

Fleur reached her room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She moved to her desk, her hands trembling slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Taking a steadying breath, she began to read.

As her eyes scanned the words, mixed emotions washed over her—amusement, surprise, and an undeniable sense of connection. The boldness of Daphne's request made Fleur's cheeks flush, but it also brought a soft, genuine smile to her lips. An intimate picture? she thought, her heart fluttering at the idea. It was unconventional, daring even, but she couldn't deny the logic behind it.

She could almost hear Daphne's voice in the letter, her genuine care for Harry and willingness to keep him safe shining through every sentence. Fleur set the parchment down and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as she processed the request.

It wasn't about seduction or vanity; it was about showing Harry that he had people waiting for him, people who cared for him deeply. The thought warmed her heart. When he saw the photo, she could already picture Harry's face, and the idea made her laugh softly.

After a few moments of thought, Fleur picked up her quill, her mind made up. She would respond to Daphne, and she would agree. If it meant supporting Harry in the dangerous times ahead, she wouldn't hesitate. The courage and warmth of Daphne's letter had won her over ultimately.

"Très audacieux, Daphne," Fleur murmured with a smile as she reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. "But I think I like this idea."

Fleur sat at her ornate writing desk, the morning sunlight streaming through her bedroom window and casting a soft glow on her silvery hair. Daphne's letter lay open before her, its words echoing in her mind. She tapped her quill against the edge of the inkwell, a small smile playing on her lips as she considered her reply.

"This is bold," Fleur murmured, her cheeks warming slightly. She adjusted her chair, dipped her quill into the ink, and leaned forward. Collaborating with Daphne, for Harry's sake, made her both nervous and excited.

Dear Daphne,

First, thank you for your letter and for trusting me with such a bold and heartfelt idea. Not every day someone offers such honesty, especially in a situation as unconventional as this. Your courage and openness have only deepened the respect I already had for you.

I want you to know that I accept your idea wholeheartedly. Harry is an extraordinary person, and if there is even the slightest chance that we can give him strength and comfort during the trials ahead, I will do everything I can to help. He is someone worth fighting for, and it is clear how much you love him. Your willingness to share your place by his side speaks volumes about your character.

Now, let's move on to the matter of the picture. I understand why you wish to take a more modest approach—after all, you see Harry every day, and your bond is already strong. For me, however, it is different. I am far away, and I want to ensure that he thinks of me often, especially as he prepares for the dangers he will face. Because of this, I intend to send him something that leaves no doubt about how much I care for him. It will be tasteful, of course, but also... alluring. I want him to see everything I have to offer, not just in my appearance but in my willingness to stand by him as part of his life.

I also want to be completely honest with you, Daphne. I know you are his first girlfriend and likely his first wife when the time comes. That does not bother me. Whether I am his second or third wife matters little to me; what matters is that I can be by his side, supporting him and being part of the future he is building. I hope you understand this and see it as a testament to the respect I already have for you as the one who holds Harry's heart first.

After this letter, let us consider having a Floo call to speak more freely. Floo mail costs are draining both of our allowances, and I think it would be much easier to plan and discuss everything in real-time. I am sure we have much to discuss beyond this, and I would love to know you better.

Please let me know when you are available, and I will make myself available to speak with you. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.

Warm regards,
Fleur Delacour

Fleur sealed the letter with her family's crest, a determined smile on her face. She knew this step would bring her closer to Harry and the life she envisioned with him. Daphne's openness had inspired her, and Fleur was ready to embrace the future with all the courage and passion in her heart.

Daphne sat comfortably in her room, the afternoon's soft light filtering through the windows as she turned over the new letter in her hands. The elegant seal of the Delacour family was unmistakable, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. Fleur's reply had arrived faster than she'd expected, and she was curious to see how the French witch had responded to her bold proposal.

Breaking the seal, she carefully unfolded the parchment and began to read. Her eyes widened slightly at Fleur's candid tone and willingness to embrace the idea of sending Harry something so personal. Daphne paused, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she reread Fleur's words: "I want him to see everything I have to offer, not just in my appearance but in my willingness to stand by him as part of his life."

She took a deep breath, processing the boldness of Fleur's plan. Fleur's reasoning was sound—she was often far away and wanted to leave a lasting impression on Harry. Clearly, Fleur understood the stakes, and her maturity and confidence were undeniable.

"Of course," Daphne murmured, her lips curving into a small smile. She's older and more experienced in some ways. She'd want to ensure Harry knows exactly where she stands.

Continuing to read, Daphne felt her respect for Fleur grows. The French witch's openness and lack of jealousy were refreshing, and her genuine admiration for Harry was evident in every line. Fleur's suggestion of a Floo call to discuss things further struck Daphne as a good idea.

Folding the letter carefully, Daphne placed it back on her desk. "Well," she laughed aloud, "this will be an interesting conversation."

Chapter 307 "Fluer and Harry Meet"

Harry stood atop The White Cliffs of Dover, the crisp sea breeze tousling his untamed hair. Closing his eyes, he tapped into his elemental abilities, his senses soaring above the earth like a bird on the wind. From this vantage, he could "see" the Delacour estate far below, its sprawling grounds bathed in the golden morning light.

With a thought, Harry reached deep into his arcane power. The world around him seemed to shift, the tang of salt in the air replaced by the faint scent of blooming flowers carried on a softer breeze. There was no flash of light, no sound, no grand display of magic. In the blink of an eye, Harry was—standing a mile down the quiet, tree-lined road leading to the Delacour manor.

He smiled to himself, taking in the serene surroundings. The estate's wrought-iron gates were visible ahead, nestled between tall hedges and ancient oaks. With a purposeful stride, Harry began his walk toward the gates, his footsteps crunching softly against the gravel road.

The meetings with Daphne and Tracy had gone far better than Fleur hoped. Their warmth and openness made her feel welcome, easing her uncertainties. As she prepared to meet Harry, her new boyfriend and potentially her future husband, her heart fluttered with excitement and nervous anticipation. She had dreamed of this moment, and everything seemed to align perfectly. Adjusting her carefully chosen outfit and taking a steadying breath, Fleur stepped toward the manor gates with purpose, her thoughts racing as she prepared to greet the man who might change her life forever.

Fleur stood at the gate of her family's elegant manor, her keen gaze fixed on the figure walking down the long, tree-lined road. She had been watching for him, her anticipation building since she felt the subtle shift in the air—a sensation she somehow knew was Harry. Now, as he approached, her heart beat a little faster.

Fleur had chosen her outfit carefully, blending sophistication with allure. Her fitted white blouse was made of the finest silk, its soft sheen catching the sunlight. The neckline was modest but enticing, with delicate lace detailing that hinted at her collarbones. She paired it with a high-waisted navy skirt that hugged her curves and fell just above her knees, emphasizing her graceful figure. Her legs, long and toned, were accentuated by elegant nude heels that added a subtle height to her already statuesque frame.

Around her neck, she wore a delicate platinum necklace adorned with a single, flawless sapphire that matched the color of her eyes. It shimmered faintly, catching the light with every movement. On her wrist rested a simple yet elegant bracelet of interwoven silver and gold, while her ears were adorned with tiny diamond studs, their sparkle subtle yet unmistakable. Her long, silvery-blonde hair was left loose, cascading down her back in soft waves as if framing her radiant face was an art form.

Fleur's makeup was minimal, allowing her natural beauty to shine through. A hint of blush added warmth to her porcelain skin, while a touch of gloss highlighted her complete lips. Her sapphire-blue eyes, lined with the faintest trace of kohl, sparkled with excitement as they locked onto Harry's figure.

As he drew closer, Fleur smiled, the expression both welcoming and dazzling. She stepped forward, her heels clicking softly on the cobblestones, exuding an effortless confidence that complemented her refined appearance. For Harry, this moment was an arrival and an introduction to Fleur Delacour at her most enchanting.

Harry approached the Delacour manor dressed impeccably in black robes adorned with the elegant emblem of his family embroidered over his chest. His polished boots, crafted from rare basilisk hide, carried him with quiet strength as he moved with purpose toward the gates. The air around him seemed to hum with a subtle magic, his presence undeniable.

Fleur spotted him from a distance, her heart beating at his confident stride. She began walking toward him, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone path. As they closed the distance between them, her pulse quickened, and her eyes locked onto his. Harry's warm smile spread across his face as they drew nearer, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

When they were mere inches apart, Fleur stepped into his open arms without hesitation. Their embrace was natural as if it had been waiting for it to happen all along. Harry held her close, his hands resting gently on her back, and Fleur tilted her face to meet his gaze.

Their lips met in a kiss filled with passion and unspoken emotion. Fleur's arms wrapped around his neck as she melted into him, her heart pounding with exhilaration. Harry didn't hold back, letting the intensity of his feelings flow through the kiss, and Fleur returned it with equal enthusiasm, her fingers curling into his robes.

When they finally broke apart, Fleur gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed and her smile radiant. "I didn't even realize how much I missed you until I saw you walking down the road," she said softly, her voice carrying both warmth and awe.

Harry chuckled, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "Then I suppose it's good that I'm here now."

Fleur took Harry's hand in hers, the touch warm and confident, and led him through the gates of the Delacour manor. Harry's arcane vision instinctively activated as the ornate iron gates closed silently behind them, revealing the intricate web of powerful wards shimmering around the property. The wards were an impressive display of magical craftsmanship, dense with protective enchantments. Harry noted their strength with admiration—they could easily hold off an army for days.

"Impressive," Harry murmured, his gaze briefly scanning the invisible network of magic before focusing back on Fleur.

Fleur turned her head slightly, catching his words. "The wards? Yes, Papa and Maman are very proud of them. They've been strengthened over generations."

Harry gave a slight nod of appreciation as they walked along the stone pathway leading to the grand manor. "I'd expect nothing less. It's like a fortress disguised as elegance."

Fleur smiled at his observation, her silver hair catching the sunlight as they moved. "I think you'll find everything about this place is both practical and beautiful."

As they approached the grand doors, Harry broke the silence. "I understand your meetings with Daphne and Tracy went well."

Fleur laughed softly, the sound light and musical. "Better than well. They were fantastic. I wasn't sure what to expect, but Daphne was so thoughtful, and Tracy—she's delightful. By the end, we didn't just talk; we ended up with a plan."

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a grin. "A plan? Should I be worried?"

Fleur smirked, squeezing his hand lightly. "Oh, Harry, you'll love it. We're simply ensuring that you, mon cher, don't get overwhelmed by your destiny."

Harry chuckled, allowing himself to be led inside. "I can't wait to hear it."

Fleur guided Harry through the enchanting halls of her family's manor, each turn revealing something more magical and breathtaking than the last. The manor blended elegance and whimsy like a fairy tale had sprung to life. The shimmering chandeliers, the intricately carved wooden staircases, and the gentle hum of magic in the air all painted a picture of unparalleled beauty. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the sheer charm of the place.

Fleur stopped and turned to face him as they reached a balcony overlooking the lush gardens. Her luminous eyes locked with his, and she took a deep breath as though gathering her thoughts.

"Harry," she began softly, her voice steady yet filled with sincerity, "Daphne and Tracy have spoken to me about their feelings, and we've decided. They are still young, and while their hearts are committed to you, they're not ready to experience everything a relationship entails. They want to take things slow and build up to that in their own time."

Harry tilted his head, listening intently, but Fleur's following words caught him off guard.

"That's where I come in," she continued, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I am older, and while I am still a virgin, my Veela heritage gives me certain instincts, certain powers, that will help guide us. Together, we'll ensure that when the time comes for Daphne and Tracy to take those steps, you'll know how to guide them gently, with care and understanding."

Harry's brow furrowed, not with confusion but with concern. "Fleur, are you sure about this? I don't want to—"

She raised a hand, placing her fingers lightly against his lips. "Mon cher, I am very sure. We all care about you, and this is the best way forward—for all of us."

Fleur placed a gentle hand on Harry's chest, her eyes glowing with warmth and sincerity. "Harry, let me be clear," she said softly, her melodic voice steady. "I'm not saying we'll jump into anything too quickly. I want to enjoy this relationship, be taken on proper dates, and experience the sweetness of courtship with you. We'll take our time and savor each moment together, and when the time is right, we won't hold back from each other. But only when it feels right for both of us."

Before Harry could respond, she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a tender and passionate kiss. He returned the kiss, letting himself sink into the connection they were building, the electricity sparking between them undeniable. When they finally pulled apart, both smiled, their foreheads lightly touching.

Harry laughed, his green eyes twinkling with affection. "I must have done something extraordinary in a past life to deserve three thoughtful, amazing girlfriends," he said, his tone both teasing and earnest.

Fleur giggled, her laughter like a soft bell. "And I never imagined I'd find someone who could truly see me for who I am, not just the allure of my Veela heritage," she admitted, her cheeks flushing faintly. "You don't look at me like I'm some prize or enchantress. You see me, Harry, and that's something I didn't know I needed until I met you."

Harry smiled, his hand finding hers. "I do see you, Fleur. All of you. And I'm grateful every day for what we're building together."

Fleur squeezed his hand and kissed him lightly again. "Then let's build something beautiful, mon cher. One step at a time, together."

Chapter 308 "Christmas Day"

Harry was jolted awake by the sound of his bedroom door slamming open, followed by the sight of Tonks storming in. She was a whirlwind of energy, her hair rapidly shifting through shades of pink, blue, and purple, matching her excitement. She wore her usual casual sleepwear—tiny shorts and an oversized t-shirt—and her bare feet padded noisily across the floor as she reached Harry's bed.

"Up and at 'em, sleepyhead!" Tonks declared, grabbing the edge of his blanket and yanking it away. Harry groaned, squinting against the faint light coming through the window.

"Tonks," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, "what time is it?"

"It's Christmas morning!" she exclaimed, ignoring his question. "You're up with the sun today, no exceptions. Especially not on Christmas Day!"

With a mixture of amusement and annoyance, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Alright, I'm up," he muttered, though his groggy tone betrayed his reluctance.

Before he could grab his robe, Tonks grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the door. "No time to dilly-dally!" she said, her enthusiasm infectious as she practically bounced with every step.

Downstairs, Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, and Ted were already gathered in the cozy sitting room, the fireplace crackling warmly. A large Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its branches laden with twinkling lights and ornaments, and an impressive pile of gifts rested beneath it. The room smelled of pine and the faint aroma of Andromeda's freshly baked pastries.

"Ah, there's the boy of the hour!" Sirius said with a wide grin. He was lounging on the couch with a steaming mug of cocoa. "Finally decided to join us, eh?"

Remus chuckled from his seat near the fire. "Let the poor lad wake up first. It's barely sunrise."

Ted, perched beside Andromeda, gave Harry a sympathetic smile. "I agree with Remus. Let him have some tea before you throw him into the Christmas chaos."

Sirius waved a dismissive hand, his grin widening. "Nonsense! Christmas is chaos, Ted. Besides, we've waited long enough for him. Time to get started!"

Tonks plopped Harry onto the couch before sprawling on the floor near the presents, her hair now a festive red and green. "Come on, Harry, this is the fun part!" she said, patting the floor beside her.

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. Andromeda handed him a cup of tea, which he accepted gratefully. "Thanks, Andromeda," he said, siping as he relaxed into the holiday atmosphere.

Sirius clapped his hands together. "Alright, everyone! Who's starting us off?"

Tonks reached for the nearest present, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Me, obviously!" she said, earning a round of laughter.

As the morning unfolded, the room filled with laughter, teasing, and heartfelt moments as they exchanged gifts, creating yet another cherished memory in the life of Harry Potter.

The room buzzed with excitement as everyone unwrapped their gifts, laughter, and exclamations of surprise filling the air. But the actual moment of stunned silence came when Remus, Sirius, Andromeda, and Tonks opened their gifts from Harry.

Inside each package was a sleek set of what looked like combat robes, but the material shimmered faintly, almost alive with magic. Sirius held him up, the light reflecting off the dark, practically obsidian-like fabric. "Harry, what is this?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

Harry grinned, standing to explain. "That," he said, pointing to the robes, "is my newest invention—Assault Armor. It's a complete overhaul of standard combat robes. I designed it to provide maximum protection while ensuring you never have to stop fighting."

Tonks was already slipping hers on, the material molding perfectly to her form and adjusting to her movements. It's light as a feather!" she exclaimed, twisting and turning to test its flexibility.

Harry nodded. "Exactly. It's enchanted for agility so that it won't hinder movement. The material is reinforced with mithril threads and magical polymers, making it nearly indestructible. But that's just the start."

He pointed to the faint glowing runes etched into the fabric. "The armor is linked to your magical core. With just a thought, it will appear on your body instantly—no wand, no incantation. No ward or anti-summoning charm can stop it."

Remus, ever the cautious one, raised an eyebrow. "And in combat?"

Harry's grin widened. "It's got auto-healing capabilities. If you're injured, it will inject a dose of my improved healing potion directly into your system. It also carries doses of Pepperup Potion, anti-venom, and other essential mixtures, releasing them as needed. The armor analyzes your condition in real-time."

Sirius let out a low whistle. "You've been busy."

Harry chuckled. "Wait, there's more. The armor generates a magical shield that activates automatically if it detects incoming attacks. And see these five spheres attached to the belt?" He tapped one of the smooth metallic balls clipped to the side. "If the armor senses an incoming Killing Curse, it will deploy one of these spheres to intercept and absorb the curse."

Tonks stared at him in awe. "Harry, this is incredible. You could revolutionize Auror combat gear."

Harry shook his head. No, this is only for family and friends. I plan on making another set of assault armor that is not as expensive but does not have auto shielding or intercepting killing curses. I want to stay with my family and friends.

Andromeda said softly, running her fingers over the material, "This could save our lives."

Harry gave her a modest shrug. "That's the idea."

Ted was equally astonished when he opened his gift: a hefty, leather-bound tome with an intricate crest on the cover. As he touched it, the book sprang to life, flipping its pages in a blur before stopping on a detailed table of contents.

Harry explained, "That's for you, Ted. It's an enchanted law compendium. Ask it about any legal question or statute; it will find the most up-to-date law for you in seconds. No more hours spent combing through libraries or dusty scrolls."

Ted's eyes lit up. "Harry, this... this is amazing. It's going to change how I work completely."

The room buzzed with gratitude and admiration as everyone admired their gifts, and Harry's thoughtful ingenuity was the day's highlight.

Chapter 309 " Longbottoms House"

The Longbottom family was gathered in their cozy sitting room, a roaring fire in the hearth casting a warm glow over the scene. Wrapping paper and ribbons were strewn across the floor as Augusta, Frank, Alice, and Neville exchanged gifts, their laughter and chatter filling the room.

Frank was holding up a wool scarf that Alice had knitted for him, a playful grin on his face. "This is fantastic, love. It's even got my favorite color."

"Only the best for you," Alice replied with a smile, her cheeks glowing with happiness.

Neville was carefully unwrapping a box from his grandmother, revealing a polished set of garden shears enchanted to never dull. "Thank you, Gran. These are amazing!"

Augusta smiled, her sharp eyes softening as she adjusted her hat. "I thought they might come in handy for your greenhouse work. After all, you've inherited your mother's green thumb."

As the family continued exchanging gifts, a knock sounded at the door. A house-elf appeared, carrying a large package marked with Harry's unmistakable handwriting.

"Oh, what's this?" Frank asked, accepting the package. "Neville, it's addressed to all of us."

They gathered around as Frank opened the box, revealing four neatly folded black and silver armor sets. The material shimmered faintly in the firelight, giving off an almost otherworldly glow. Beneath the armor was a smaller box addressed specifically to Neville.

"What on earth is this?" Augusta asked, lifting one of the pieces and inspecting it closely. The runes etched into the fabric caught her sharp gaze. "It looks... formidable."

Neville read the note tucked inside aloud. "Dear Longbottom family, this is my newest invention—Assault Armor. I wanted to ensure you're all protected, especially with the increasing dangers we've been facing. Consider it a gift for everything you've done for me."

Frank and Alice exchanged a glance, both impressed. "Assault Armor?" Alice asked. "What does it do?"

Neville beamed. "Harry mentioned this at school. It's enchanted to provide defense and healing. If you're injured, it can inject potions automatically, project shields to block attacks, and even intercept curses with these spheres." He pointed to the metallic balls attached to the belt of the armor.

Frank shook his head, astonished. "That boy never ceases to amaze me. He's thought of everything."

Augusta huffed though there was a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "Well, at least he's practical. It's an excellent gift, but what's in the smaller box?"

Neville opened it carefully, revealing a beautifully bound, ancient tome with the Potter crest on its cover. The title gleamed in golden lettering: Herbological Mastery: The Forgotten Arts.

"This..." Neville's voice faltered as he flipped through the pages, filled with intricate diagrams and detailed instructions for magical plants. "This is incredible. It's like... centuries of knowledge about magical plants."

Alice placed a hand on his shoulder, her smile warm. "Harry truly values you, Neville. This is a treasure."

Neville nodded, his heart full of gratitude. "He's not just my best friend—he's like family. I will make sure I use this knowledge to honor his gift."

The Longbottoms shared a moment of quiet appreciation, marveling at Harry's thoughtfulness and their strong bonds.

Chapter 310 "Malfoy's New Manner"

The sitting room of the new Black Manor was filled with the soft glow of enchanted lights and the warmth of a roaring fire. Narcissa Malfoy sat gracefully on a plush armchair, her posture regal yet relaxed, while her son Draco perched on the edge of a matching sofa, his expression lighter than it had been in years. The tension of their former life had melted away in this sanctuary, surrounded by wards so secure that even the most determined intruder wouldn't dare try to breach them.

Narcissa's eyes flicked to the elegantly wrapped gifts before them, her curiosity piqued. Andromeda had told her that Harry had taken a keen interest in ensuring they were both comfortable and protected after they moved to this hidden Black property. She ran her fingers along the edge of a package, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Draco, meanwhile, couldn't contain his excitement. "Mother, this is the happiest I've been in... well, ever," he admitted, a little awkwardly but sincerely. "I have true friends now. Harry, Neville, even Daphne—people who care about me for who I am, not because of Father's influence."

Narcissa's heart swelled at the honesty in her son's words. "You deserve that, Draco," she said softly. "You've grown so much in the past year. I'm proud of the young man you're becoming."

Draco picked up a box with his name on it, tearing away the wrapping to reveal a gleaming armor set. The dark, polished plates shimmered faintly. Runes etched into their surface, glowing with latent magic. A note accompanied the armor, written in Harry's familiar handwriting:

Draco, this armor is designed to protect you in any situation. It's enchanted with auto-healing capabilities and shield projection, and it can intercept curses aimed at you. Wear it well, my friend.

Draco's eyes widened as he examined the gift. "This... this is incredible," he said, running his fingers over the intricate runes. "Leave it to Potter to outdo himself."

Narcissa's attention shifted to her pile of gifts. The first box she opened revealed five stunning dresses, each crafted with unparalleled precision and elegance. Her breath caught as she realized the tags bore the signature of Sophie Delacroix, the legendary French designer.

"These are exquisite," Narcissa murmured, her fingers gliding over the luxurious fabrics. "No one else will have dresses like these. Harry and Andromeda truly went out of their way."

Her next gift was equally impressive: a pair of spell-heeled boots made from gleaming basilisk skin. They shimmered faintly in the firelight, their texture smooth and supple yet impenetrable. She slipped them on, marveling at their perfect fit and lightweight feel.

"These are not just gifts," Narcissa said, her voice tinged with emotion. "They remind us that our family truly cares about us."

Draco nodded, his grin unrestrained. "Harry's not just a friend. He's family. And I intend to stand by him."

As mother and son exchanged warm smiles, the fire crackled softly, sealing the moment of newfound hope and connection.

Chapter 311 "Davis Family"

The Davis family sitting room was alive with laughter and cheered as wrapping paper flew everywhere. Tracy sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a mountain of gifts. Her brothers, Evan and Daniel, teased her mercilessly, but she was too delighted to mind. Grace and Richard Davis, her parents, sipped warm cider from crystal mugs as they watched the lively scene.

Tracy had just opened a beautifully wrapped package from Daphne and held up an exquisite set of crystal vials. Each one sparkled in the light, etched with delicate designs of flowers and vines. "Oh, these are perfect!" she exclaimed. "Daphne, you know me so well."

Grace smiled. "She certainly does. You'll be able to use those for your advanced potions, won't you?"

"Absolutely," Tracy replied, setting them aside carefully.

The next gift was from Neville and Draco, and when Tracy unwrapped it, her breath hitched. Inside was a complete set of top-of-the-line potion equipment, each piece gleaming. The cauldron alone was a masterpiece, crafted from enchanted silver and inscribed with runes for temperature control and stability.

"I don't even know what to say," Tracy said, turning to the two boys. "This is incredible."

Tracy noticed a smaller, elegantly wrapped box marked with Harry's handwriting as the gift exchange continued. Her heart skipped a beat as she carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside lay a soul crystal, its surface smooth and pristine, the pure white hue indicating it had not yet been tuned. The crystal was suspended on a chain of delicate mithril, its shimmering links catching the light.

For a moment, Tracy was speechless. She knew what this gift meant. The soul crystal was a rare and profoundly personal token that required a bond with the giver to charge its power. It wasn't just a beautiful piece of jewelry but a symbol of connection and trust.

Her mother, Grace, leaned forward. "Tracy, what is it?"

"It's... it's a soul crystal," Tracy said, her voice soft with awe. "And it's from Harry."

Her brothers exchanged curious glances, and her father's brow furrowed slightly in thought. "A soul crystal?" Richard asked.

Richard Davis leaned back in his chair. His brow furrowed as he stared at the soul crystal in Tracy's hand. "A soul crystal? I didn't think those things existed outside romance novels and those wireless radio dramas."

Tracy smiled softly, her fingers brushing over the smooth, pristine surface of the crystal. "Oh, they exist," she replied, her voice tinged with awe. Slowly, she lifted the mithril chain over her head and let the crystal rest just above her heart.

The moment the crystal touched her skin, a ripple of warmth spread as if a gentle flame had been lit inside her chest. The crystal began to glow faintly, its light growing stronger every second. Tracy's eyes widened, and for a brief moment, they glowed, a radiant shimmer of connection and magic.

Her family watched silently as Tracy pressed her hand to the crystal. "I can feel them," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Harry... and Daphne. They're both safe... and happy."

Across the land, in different places, both Harry and Daphne paused. A flicker of warmth passed through them, a sensation of connection they couldn't explain. Harry smiled faintly, recognizing the subtle magic for what it was. In her family's drawing room, Daphne touched the soul crystal around her neck, feeling the presence of a third bond.

Back in the Davis household, Richard shook his head slowly, his skepticism giving way to wonder. "I'll be damned," he muttered. "It works."

Tracy smiled, clutching the crystal tightly. "It's more than just magic," she said softly. "It's a bond—one that's unbreakable."

The room fell silent, the moment's weight settling over them like a gentle, comforting embrace.

Lila, Tracy's sister-in-law, leaned forward, her curiosity piqued as she studied the chain holding the glowing soul crystal. "Tracy, what kind of metal is your soul crystal hung with? It's stunning."

Tracy smiled, running her fingers over the smooth, silvery links. "It's mithral, I think."

Evan, the youngest brother, shook his head in disbelief. "You mean mithral? Like in those Lord of the Rings books, you're always talking about?"

Tracy grinned. "Exactly. It's light, nearly indestructible, and incredibly rare."

Richard, their father, joined the conversation, his expression a mix of surprise and intrigue. "Mithral? Are you serious? I've only heard of mithral in theory and legends in all my years. This is the first time I've seen it in real life."

Tracy raised an eyebrow. "Really? Harry always wears a mithral chain shirt under his robes or armor. His mother had it made for him when he was a child."

The room went silent for a moment as everyone processed this revelation. Lila blinked in shock, her voice low. "That... that's incredible. Are you telling me Harry's been wearing mithral like it's nothing?"

Richard shook his head in astonishment. "That's... that's nearly impossible. Do you have any idea how rare mithral is? Let alone how difficult it is to forge. The necklace you're wearing, Tracy, would easily cost over 10,000 galleons—maybe more. And a chain shirt? That would be a fortune."

Evan leaned back in his chair, his jaw slack. "So Harry just casually wears something priceless under his robes?"

Tracy nodded, clearly enjoying her family's reactions. "Apparently. But it's not about the cost to him. He said it was a gift from his mother, something to protect him. For Harry, it's sentimental, not material."

Lila laughed softly. "Sentimental or not, I can't imagine many wizards would have something like that and treat it so casually."

Richard sighed, shaking his head again. "It's not just the rarity of the material. Forging mithral is an art that's almost entirely lost. Whoever made that shirt was either a master or someone with access to ancient techniques."

Tracy smiled proudly. "Harry told me goblins or dwarves forged it he did not know. They're the only ones who can still work with mithral like that."

Evan let out a low whistle. "Goblins or dwarves, huh? That explains a lot. No wonder it's perfect. Their craftsmanship is unmatched."

Richard leaned forward, his gaze serious. "You do realize, Tracy, that necklace isn't just a piece of jewelry. It's a symbol—of protection, care, and trust. Harry didn't give that to you lightly."

Tracy nodded, her fingers curling around the glowing crystal. "I know, Dad. And I'll treasure it forever. It's more than just a necklace—a connection to him and Daphne and a promise that we'll always look out for each other."

The family sat quietly for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over them. Finally, Richard smiled. "Well, it seems you're part of something extraordinary, Tracy. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning."

Chapter 312 "Greengrass Family"

The Greengrass family was gathered in the sitting room, the crackling fire casting a warm glow. Astoria, as energetic as ever, had ensured everyone was up early, her excitement about Christmas uncontainable. She tore through her presents like a whirlwind, wrapping paper flying everywhere as she giggled and squealed with delight at each new surprise.

On the other hand, Daphne took her time, carefully unwrapping her gifts. She smiled at her younger sister's antics, but her gaze drifted to a box nestled among her pile of presents—the one from Harry. It weighed both physically and emotionally, making her hesitant to open it too quickly.

Astoria, meanwhile, had her moment of discovery. "Harry sent me a gift!" she exclaimed, clutching a neatly wrapped package. Her eyes lit up as she tore the paper away, revealing a small box that seemed to hum with enchantment. When she opened it, a stuffed unicorn leaped out, landing in her lap with a soft, magical glow.

Astoria let out a delighted squeal as she hugged the plush unicorn tightly. The toy radiated an aura of tranquility and warmth, making everyone in the room feel a little lighter. "He's already spoiling you," Daphne teased, shaking her head as Astoria buried her face in the unicorn's soft mane.

Daphne finally turned her attention back to her gifts and slowly picked up Harry's box. It was simple yet elegant, tied with a deep green ribbon that matched the color of her eyes. She carefully undid the bow, her fingers trembling slightly, and lifted the lid.

Inside, resting on a velvet bed, was an exquisite necklace that Daphne momentarily forgot how to breathe. The pendant was an intricate, heirloom piece from the Potter family—a masterpiece of craftsmanship and timeless beauty. The central gemstone was a flawless emerald, cut into a teardrop shape, surrounded by delicate gold filigree that spiraled outward like sunbursts. Tiny diamonds dotted the design, catching the light and adding a brilliant shimmer. The chain was a fine weave of gold, so light and intricate it seemed almost like spun sunlight.

Daphne's mother, Roxanne, leaned in, her eyes widening at the sight. "Is that...?" she began, her voice trailing in awe.

Astoria abandoned her unicorn momentarily to peek over Daphne's shoulder. "That's the prettiest necklace I've ever seen!" she declared, her voice filled with wonder.

Daphne's hands trembled as she lifted the note nestled alongside the necklace. Harry's familiar handwriting brought a soft smile to her lips as she read aloud:

"This belonged to my great-grandmother. She always said it was meant for someone with a strength of character as brilliant as the gems it holds. I thought of you immediately. The colors remind me of your grace, elegance, and warmth. I hope it brings you as much joy as you've brought me. Merry Christmas, Daphne. Yours, Harry."

Roxanne placed a gentle hand on Daphne's shoulder. "It's beautiful, darling. And it suits you perfectly."

Daphne swallowed the lump in her throat, her emotions mixing joy, love, and a tinge of disbelief. "He always knows how to surprise me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Astoria grinned and nudged her sister. "You'd better put it on! I want to see how it looks."

With careful hands, Daphne clasped the necklace around her neck. The emerald rested just above her heart, its glow enhancing the sparkle in her eyes. She looked at her family, her cheeks flushing under their approving gazes.

"It's perfect," Roxanne said, smiling warmly. "Harry has wonderful taste—and not just in jewelry."

Cryus, their father, chuckled softly. "He's setting quite the standard, isn't he? I hope you realize how lucky you are, Daphne."

Daphne nodded, her fingers brushing the pendant to reassure herself it was real. "I do," she said softly, her heart full. "And I intend to ensure he knows how much I appreciate him."

Astoria snuggled her unicorn with a contented sigh as the family returned to their gifts. "If he keeps this up, I might have to steal him from you, Daphne!"

Daphne laughed, her smile lighting up the room. "Good luck with that, Tori. Harry's mine."

Chapter 313 "The Delacour Family"

The Delacour family sat in their elegant sitting room, the morning light streaming through the large French windows, casting a warm glow over the beautifully decorated space. Gabrielle's excited squeals filled the room as she eagerly unwrapped each present, her happiness radiating like sunlight. Fleur, on the other hand, sat composed, her hands resting lightly on the large box from Harry Potter that she had been deliberately saving for last.

Her mother, Apolline, watched Fleur with a knowing smile. "Mon ange, are you going to open that, or are you waiting for it to hatch?" she teased lightly.

Gabrielle, clutching her new stuffed dragon, giggled. "Fleur, I think you're scared. What if it's a box of frogs?"

Her father, Sebastian, chuckled. "Knowing this young man, I doubt it. If his reputation is anything to go by, I expect something thoughtful and impressive."

Fleur arched an elegant eyebrow at her father. "And you have been reading up on Monsieur Potter, Papa?"

Sebastian grinned. "Of course. It's not every day that a young wizard of his stature is interested in my daughter."

Fleur's grandmother, Elodie Devereux, sipped her tea, her sharp gaze flicking to the box. "Open it, ma chérie. Let us see what this boy has sent. From what you've told me, he cannot do things lightly."

Fleur nodded, her fingers hesitating momentarily before she began untying the ribbon with care. The entire family leaned in slightly, curiosity thick in the air as the lid was removed. Fleur's breath caught as she took in the contents of the box.

Nestled within was an elegant set of armor, sleek and sophisticated yet clearly designed for practical use. The polished surface of the magical plates shimmered faintly, exuding both strength and grace. Alongside it lay a set of intricately tailored dueling robes, their craftsmanship unmatched. The deep midnight-blue fabric was embroidered with silver accents, stars, and crescent moons subtly woven into the design, symbolizing precision and power.

Fleur's fingers trembled as she lifted the final piece from the box—a soul crystal. The delicate gem hung from a fine mithral chain, and the moment she touched it, a warmth spread through her chest. The crystal glowed softly, and she felt a connection as though she could sense something of Harry, Daphne, and Tracy. It was more than a gift; it was a promise of trust and unity.

Apolline gasped softly, placing a hand on her chest. "Fleur… this is no ordinary gift."

Fleur's mind raced back to her recent meeting with Daphne and Tracy. She had been hesitant, unsure of what she wanted, but their sincerity and openness had touched her. Daphne's confidence in Fleur's place in Harry's life had been surprising and reassuring. Now, holding this crystal, Fleur felt an overwhelming sense of belonging.

Sebastian broke the silence. "Armor, robes, and a soul crystal. This young man truly values you, Fleur."

Elodie smiled faintly. "It seems your Monsieur Potter is not just thoughtful but also strategic. He prepares for the future."

Gabrielle beamed, hugging her dragon. "Fleur, you have to marry him! He's perfect!"

Fleur laughed softly, her cheeks flushed. "Gabrielle, calm yourself."

Apolline leaned closer, her voice gentle. "Fleur, what are you thinking?"

Fleur looked up at her family, her eyes glowing with determination. "I am thinking… I must write to Harry and thank him. And perhaps I must prepare myself for what lies ahead." She touched the crystal resting against her heart and smiled. "Because I believe he is worth it."

Chapter 314 "The Yule Ball"

The Yule Ball was set to be one of the grandest events in magical history, and the Ministry of Magic's Great Hall was transformed into an opulent spectacle to reflect its significance. The hall was adorned with shimmering enchantments, giving the illusion of a starlit winter sky. Crystal chandeliers floated above, casting a soft glow over the polished marble floors. Ice sculptures of magical creatures, enchanted to move gracefully, lined the hall's perimeter, their glistening forms a testament to the artistry of the magical world.

Elegant holly and ivy garlands intertwined with silver and gold ribbons hung along the walls. At the same time, tables draped in deep emerald and crimson cloths were set with ornate golden cutlery and enchanted snowflake centerpieces that gently twirled and sparkled. At the far end of the hall stood a grand dais where the medal ceremony would take place, its backdrop a shimmering tapestry of magical achievements embroidered with gold thread.

Minister Cornelius Fudge stood near the entrance. His ordinarily jovial demeanor subdued as he spoke in hushed tones with Amelia Bones. Amelia, wearing her customary stern expression, gestured toward the arrangements with her monocle glinting under the magical lights.

"We've ensured every detail is perfect," she said, her voice steady. "All ambassadors are expected to attend, and additional security has been discreetly placed throughout the hall. After all, it's not every day we host such an array of international representatives."

Fudge nodded, his fingers twitching nervously. "And the medals? Are they prepared? This is a delicate moment. Lord Potter-Black's recognition will be pivotal."

Amelia's lips thinned into a slight smile. "Everything is ready, Minister. This is more than a ball—it's a symbol of unity. We'll show the world we stand strong and proud despite our challenges."

The hall shimmered as their conversation continued, anticipation thick in the air.

The grand hall of the Ministry of Magic was slowly filling with an array of dignitaries, ambassadors, and noble families, not just from Britain but from across the magical world. The air buzzed with excitement and the soft hum of conversation as finely dressed witches and wizards admired the enchantments that transformed the hall into a glittering winter wonderland.

Near one of the elegantly decorated tables, Senator Astrid Lindstrom of Sweden leaned slightly toward her German counterpart, Senator Helen Schafer. Astrid's sharp eyes roved over the growing crowd, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"It seems everyone here is trying to impress the British," she remarked her tone light but tinged with curiosity. "Quite rare to see such a gathering outside an ICW summit."

Swirling the wine in her crystal goblet, Helen took a thoughtful sip. Her eyes flicked toward a cluster of ambassadors deep in discussion. "You're not wrong. The British have a peculiar knack for drawing the magical world's attention. And tonight, with Lord Potter-Black and the events at Hogwarts so fresh in everyone's minds, they've ensured all eyes are on them."

Astrid tilted her head, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "And why not? Their star player is Harry Potter—a war hero, unifier of alliances, and head of three ancient houses. He's the figure who makes others want to secure ties, perhaps even alliances."

Helen nodded, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "True, but let's not forget this is also an opportunity for the Ministry to flex its influence. With ambassadors from nearly every corner of the globe, this isn't just a celebration—it's a stage for political maneuvering."

The two senators exchanged knowing looks as the hall continued to fill, their conversation a quiet acknowledgment of the subtle power plays taking shape beneath the glittering chandeliers.

Harry Potter and the Black family entered the grand hall, their arrival drawing subtle glances and whispers from the assembled guests. Harry walked confidently, his black robes adorned with the crests of his house, his piercing green eyes scanning the room. A smile broke across his face as he immediately spotted his girlfriends, Daphne and Tracy, standing by the refreshment stand with Draco and Neville, their laughter light and carefree.

Sirius leaned closer to Harry, his voice low but teasing. "It seems your girls, Draco and Neville, are already here. A nice little gathering of your inner circle."

Harry chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on Daphne and Tracy. "Yes, they are. They look amazing."

Andromeda stepped up beside him, her expression more serious. "Harry, remember to tread carefully tonight. The ambassadors and senators present are skilled in politics. They may try to engage you on certain topics or push you to endorse their ideas. Keep your wits about you."

Harry nodded, his smile fading slightly as he considered her words. "I understand, Andromeda. I'll be careful."

"Good," she said with a faint smile. "Enjoy the evening, but don't let your guard down completely."

The evening was alive with music and laughter as Harry twirled Daphne around the dance floor, the warmth of their shared smiles reflecting the joy of the evening. After the song ended, Harry escorted Daphne back to their group before taking Tracy's hand for the next dance. As they moved gracefully across the floor, Harry's sharp eyes caught sight of a new arrival at the entrance to the grand hall.

Sebastian Delacour, the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, had arrived with his family. The room seemed to subtly shift as the Delacours entered, their presence drawing the attention of many. Fleur, radiant in an elegant silver gown that shimmered under the enchanted lights, stood beside her father.

Harry smiled, nudging Tracy gently as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "They're here," he said softly, guiding her toward the Delacours. Daphne, Neville, and Draco noticed their movement and followed, forming a small welcoming party for the prestigious family.

Fleur's eyes lit up as they approached, and she gracefully stepped forward. Without hesitation, she embraced Harry, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Harry," she greeted warmly, her voice like a melody. She turned to Daphne and Tracy, hugging them both in turn. "Daphne, Tracy—you both look stunning tonight."

"Fleur, so do you," Daphne replied with a smile, her tone genuine.

Fleur's attention shifted to the others. "Draco, Neville," she said with a charming smile, "you both look quite handsome in your robes."

"Thank you, Fleur," Draco replied, inclining his head politely. Neville nodded, his usual shyness momentarily forgotten.

Sebastian observed the exchange with a slight smile, clearly pleased with the camaraderie between his daughter and Harry's group. The Delacour family stepped further into the hall, their elegance and warmth adding to the magic of the evening.

Harry released Fleur with a warm smile and turned his attention to Apolline Delacour. With a touch of old-world charm, he bowed slightly and took her hand, brushing a light kiss across her knuckles. "Madame Delacour," he greeted, "it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry I missed you while visiting your beautiful home."

Apolline's eyes sparkled with kindness as she smiled. "The pleasure is mine, Harry. I've heard so much about you, and I regret that business with the enclave kept me from welcoming you properly. But Fleur has told me how gracious you were."

Harry nodded, his expression sincere. "No need to apologize. I completely understand the importance of your work. It was a memorable visit, and your family was more than welcoming."

He shifted his gaze to Sebastian Delacour, observing the exchange with a pleased smile. Harry extended his hand, which Sebastian clasped firmly. "Sebastian, it's good to see you under better circumstances," Harry said warmly.

Sebastian chuckled, his deep voice resonating. "Likewise, Harry. Or should I call you Tribune? Or perhaps Lord Potter-Black?"

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "Just Harry will do, sir."

"Then you must call me Sebastian," the Supreme Mugwump replied with a nod. "I must admit, I regret missing your visit to our home. Unfortunately, ICW matters demanded my attention—discussions about the escalating conflict in South America."

Harry's expression grew thoughtful. "I understand completely. Those are pressing matters. I hope I can help resolve the situation and end the war sooner rather than later."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed with approval. "Your reputation precedes you, Harry. If anyone can bring order to chaos, it's you."

Their conversation was interrupted as Fleur rejoined them, her radiant presence drawing attention. She linked her arm through Harry's, smiling warmly at her father and mother. The family dynamic, warm and supportive, was evident to anyone watching.

Lindstrom's lips curled into a knowing smile as she observed the interaction between Harry, the Delacour family, and his British companions. Schafer, standing beside her, appeared visibly startled. "Well," Schafer said, her tone edged with disbelief, "that is something I didn't see coming. It seems Lord Potter-Black has secured not just one but three wives—two British and one French. The alliances this creates…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

Lindstrom chuckled softly, the sound almost smug. "Indeed, Schafer. Harry Potter-Black is weaving a web of power and influence that's hard to rival. Two noble British houses solidify his standing at home, while the Delacours bring the prestige of the French magical elite. It's a union that strengthens his family and reaches across borders."

Schafer's eyes flicked back to the group, narrowing slightly as Fleur leaned in, laughing softly at something Harry said. "And then there's Sebastian. We thought his position as Supreme Mugwump couldn't solidify further, but we underestimated him. This connection strengthens his hand at the ICW table significantly."

Lindstrom's smile widened. "Never underestimate a Delacour, my friend. Or a Potter, for that matter. Together? They'll reshape the game entirely."

The grand doors opened one final time, and a towering figure stepped through, commanding the attention of the entire hall. Standing eight feet tall, King Loki Wolfsbane radiated strength and authority. His presence was as undeniable as the colors of Ulveland he proudly wore, marking him as a sovereign of his people. Beside him, Queen Lagertha Wolfsbane moved with regal grace, her presence equally formidable, dressed in the same national colors, symbolizing their unity and strength.

Harry's eyes lit up as he saw them enter, a faint smile on his lips. Though he had never met them, he immediately recognized where his friend and blood brother, Bjorn Wolfsbane, had inherited his striking features and indomitable presence. Without hesitation, Harry excused himself from the group he was with, leaving Daphne and Fleur exchanging curious glances.

As Harry strode confidently toward the royal couple, the crowd instinctively parted to give him room. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation. He stopped before them and bowed slightly, his demeanor of respect but not servitude.

"You must be King Loki Wolfsbane," Harry said, his tone warm and genuine. "Your son, Bjorn, has spoken of you often. It's an honor to meet the man who has inspired so much admiration and loyalty." He turned his gaze to Lagertha and offered her a bright smile. "And you, Queen Lagertha—though I see Bjorn did not inherit his looks from you. You are a sun in the sky compared to his clouds."

The Queen chuckled softly, lightening even the most formal of atmospheres. Loki's deep laugh rumbled like distant thunder. "A sharp tongue and a sharper wit," the King said approvingly. "Bjorn chose to call you brother."

Harry chuckled, his green eyes twinkling. "I've received a few letters from him. Bjorn is down in the south, fighting the undead."

King Loki grinned, his powerful presence radiating pride. "My son is well on his way to becoming a champion. That is why he gave up his last name, as is our custom."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I'm familiar with the tradition, but I don't entirely agree with it. Still, Bjorn is as loyal as they come, and I've rarely seen anyone deadlier with a blade."

Loki's laugh rumbled like a distant storm. "You've captured his essence well, young Lord. And his companion, Thunderbeard—what do you think of the dwarf?"

Harry's smile widened. "Thunderbeard is a force of nature. Together, he and Bjorn are a duo unlike any I've encountered. Their partnership on the battlefield is nothing short of legendary."

The King's laughter grew louder. "Ah, yes, the infamous dwarf. I've heard tales. I cannot wait to meet him and see if he can outdrink a Lycan."

Harry smirked. "He regularly outdrinks Bjorn, which is saying something. I stay far away from their drinking contests. That's chaos I don't need."

Queen Lagertha's voice was as soft as a lullaby yet firm with authority interjected with a smile. "I've also heard another tale, young Lord. My son claims you have the voice of a bard."

Harry's face flushed slightly, though his grin remained. "I owe Bjorn a thrashing for spreading that," he laughed. "I've been known to sing occasionally, but it's far from my best quality."

Lagertha chuckled. "Modesty suits you, Harry. Perhaps one day, we'll hear this bard's voice."

Harry inclined his head, his demeanor warm. "Perhaps, Your Majesty. If the occasion calls for it."

Dumbledore, Amelia Bones, Minister Fudge, and Sebastian Delacour stood together, observing the mingling crowd as Harry approached King Loki Wolfsbane and Queen Lagertha. Fudge shook his head in amazement. "I never thought I'd see someone so young look so at ease among such distinguished company. Yet, Lord Potter-Black stands there as if he's been doing this his entire life."

Dumbledore chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "I cannot take credit for Harry's composure, Minister. That is something he's developed on his own. Though I suspect Andromeda Tonks had a hand in sharpening those particular skills."

Amelia smirked. "If anyone could teach Harry the intricacies of diplomacy and poise, it would be her. She's as formidable as they come."

Still silent, Sebastian watched Fleur, Daphne, and Tracy gracefully join Harry, each taking a place by his side. A small smile played on his lips. "They're already forming a presence, aren't they? Together, they will become an influential force."

Amelia shook her head in agreement. "Not 'will be,' Sebastian—they already are. Look at the attention they're drawing tonight. Heads are turning wherever they go."

Fudge nodded, gesturing subtly toward the group. "I doubt anyone expected Harry to have already chosen his future wives, let alone for it to be so public."

Amelia let out a light laugh. "Chosen him? Oh no, Minister. I think it's safe to say they chose him. Harry may be a natural leader, but even the best leaders know when to follow."

The group chuckled at that, their shared humor lightening the weight of the evening's importance as they watched Harry and his companions capture the world's attention.

Harry was the picture of grace and diplomacy as the evening progressed, moving through the crowd effortlessly. Whether he was in conversation with ambassadors, nobles, or senators, one of his girlfriends—Fleur, Daphne, or Tracy—was always by his side, a quiet but powerful presence. Each girl shared moments with him on the dance floor, and their dynamic caught the admiration and intrigue of everyone present.

An hour before midnight, the festivities settled into a comfortable rhythm as guests returned to their tables for a lavish meal. The Great Hall was alive with conversations and laughter, the glow of chandeliers casting a golden light over the gathering. At the head of the room, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and Supreme Mugwump Sebastian Delacour stepped onto the stage. The murmur of the crowd gradually quieted as all eyes turned toward them.

Minister Fudge cleared his throat, his voice carrying across the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests from near and far, thank you for attending tonight's grand celebration. We are not often graced with such a gathering of talent, wisdom, and camaraderie worldwide."

Sebastian stepped forward, his deep, commanding voice adding gravitas to the moment. "Tonight is a celebration and an opportunity to express our gratitude. One among us has shown extraordinary courage, selflessness, and strength. His actions have rippled far beyond Britain's borders, inspiring hope worldwide."

Fudge smiled, gesturing toward Harry. "It is time to recognize these contributions formally. Lord Hadrian Potter-Black, would you please join us on stage?"

Harry rose from his table, excusing himself gracefully. He walked to the stage confidently, his robes flowing behind him. The room erupted into applause, every eye watching as he took his place beside the Minister and the Supreme Mugwump.

The room fell silent as Harry Potter, standing at the center of the grand stage, took a deep breath and stepped forward. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had just finished pinning the final medal onto Harry's chest—a shimmering gold insignia representing the world's gratitude for his courage and sacrifice. Around him stood a lineup of heroes, including Albus Dumbledore, Andromeda Black, Frank, Alice, Augusta Longbottom, Alastor Moody, and Nymphadora Tonks, as well as countless others who had played pivotal roles in the battles at Heroes Hill and Azkaban Island.

Harry's emerald eyes scanned the room, catching glimpses of familiar faces: Daphne, Tracy, Fleur, and his friends from Hogwarts, all watching with pride. The applause began dying as Harry raised his hand, signaling for quiet. The air in the hall was thick with anticipation as he prepared to speak.

"Thank you," Harry began, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. "I am deeply honored to stand here tonight among so many brave witches and wizards who have sacrificed so much for the safety and peace of our world. These medals are not just symbols of our accomplishments; they are reminders of the lives we've saved and, sadly, those we've lost."

He paused, glancing briefly at the medals on his chest before continuing. "Heroes Hill, Azkaban Island, and the countless battles fought against darkness were not won by individuals alone. They were won through unity, trust, and the unwavering determination of people who refused to give up, even when the odds were against them."

Harry's tone shifted slightly, becoming more personal. "To those who fought beside me—my friends, mentors, and allies—you are why I stand here today. I owe everything to the courage you've shown and the lessons you've taught me."

He turned his gaze toward the younger audience members, particularly the Hogwarts students invited to witness the ceremony. "To the next generation of witches and wizards: remember that bravery isn't the absence of fear. It's standing firm in the face of fear. It's choosing to protect what you love, no matter the cost. You don't have to fight battles to be a hero. Every act of kindness, every moment you choose to stand up for what's right—that is what shapes the world."

The hall remained silent, his words resonating with everyone present. Finally, Harry straightened, his expression softening as he glanced back at the other heroes standing behind him. "These medals belong to all of us. They represent what we've achieved together and what we will continue to fight for—a future free of fear and full of hope."

A wave of applause erupted, growing louder and louder until it seemed to shake the walls of the Ministry's great hall. Harry stepped back, nodding to the Minister and Supreme Mugwump Sebastian Delacour, before returning to his place among the heroes. As the applause continued, Harry's eyes found Daphne, Tracy, and Fleur once more, and he smiled, knowing he wasn't standing alone.

As the applause from Harry's speech began to die down, Supreme Mugwump Sebastian Delacour and Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stepped forward, their expressions solemn yet proud. Again, The room fell silent as they prepared to address the gathered assembly.

Sebastian was the first to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, tonight is about recognizing past heroics and preparing for the challenges that lie ahead. The war in South America against the undead rages on, and the need for unity among our forces has never been greater."

Minister Fudge continued, his voice carrying the weight of his words. "It is with great honor that we announce a decision made by the Goblin Nation, the Eternal Church, and the International Confederation of Wizards. All forces in South America—the goblin battalions, the church's holy armies, and the ICW's enforcers—will be unified under a single command." He paused, letting the room absorb the significance. "That commander is none other than Tribune Hadrian Potter-Black."

Gasps rippled through the hall, and stunned whispers filled the air as Sebastian Delacour held out a scroll, the official papers granting Harry his new command. Harry stepped forward, calm but determined, as he accepted the scroll. The symbol of the three allied powers gleamed on the parchment, a testament to the weight of the responsibility now resting on his shoulders.

Fudge added, "Though Britain cannot send a full army to assist in this struggle, we will send a company of volunteers, led by none other than Lord Frank Longbottom, to fight alongside Tribune Potter-Black."

Harry unrolled the scroll, his emerald eyes scanning the text. Then, stepping to the forefront of the stage, he raised his voice. "I accept this appointment with humility. I vow to lead with honor and do everything possible to turn the tide against the undead and bring peace to those suffering."

The hall erupted in applause, a thunderous show of support for Harry as he stood firm, ready to face the next great challenge of his life.

Sebastian Delacour turned to Dumbledore as the applause for Harry still echoed through the hall, a thoughtful expression etched onto his face. "Albus," he began, his tone low but laced with admiration, "I cannot help but feel as though I am Hephaestion, standing in the shadow of Alexander as he begins his ascent to greatness. Harry Potter is not just a young man of immense potential; he is already a force reshaping the world."

Dumbledore gave a faint smile, his blue eyes twinkling with pride and concern. "He is remarkable, yes," he replied. "But greatness is a heavy burden, especially for someone so young. Harry has been shaped by conflict, loss, and the weight of expectations placed upon him since childhood. I wonder, Sebastian if we have prepared him well enough for the trials still ahead."

Sebastian nodded, his gaze fixed on Harry, who stood on the stage surrounded by applause yet still grounded in the moment. "He carries himself with poise and confidence, but you are right, Albus. His path is fraught with danger, not just from enemies but from the power and influence he now wields. Commanding a coalition of forces against the undead is no small task, and the following political intrigues could prove just as dangerous as the battlefield."

Dumbledore sighed, the weight of his years apparent in his voice. "I have long believed that Harry is destined for extraordinary things. However, destiny is a double-edged sword. For every triumph, there is a sacrifice. I fear what it may cost him to achieve all he can."

Sebastian's expression hardened. "Then we must ensure he is not walking this path alone. He has allies—friends who would follow him into the abyss if necessary—and he has us, Albus. We must guide him, even from the shadows, to ensure his rise is not lonely."

Dumbledore nodded, his gaze softening as he watched Harry step down from the stage, joined by Daphne, Fleur, and Tracy, their presence a reminder of the connections grounding him. "Indeed, Sebastian. While Harry may be a beacon of hope, even the brightest star needs a constellation to guide it."

Sebastian clasped Dumbledore's shoulder. "Then let us ensure that his light does not falter. He may be young, but his actions speak louder than his years. This is only the beginning, Albus. Only the beginning."