Of Golems and Gallantries
"Hello, dear, did you come to fetch the brat?" asked Fleamont with a mischievous smile from the portrait above the fireplace in the Potter manor.
Euphemia gave her husband a little nudge on the arm for the way he referred to their grandson.
"He's in the workshop, still investigating those things. We told him to rest, but obviously the only one he'll listen to is you," she said with a warm smile.
"Yes… ever since he finished his punishment, I knew this was coming," Wanda sighed as she walked through the manor, knowing every corner of it as if she had lived there all her life.
She advanced down a hallway lined with doors, each marked with a plaque representing a magical profession. Her steps stopped in front of the one that read Alchemy, and she opened it without hesitation.
The inside looked like a chaotic little laboratory. Dozens of magical tools glowed brightly, bookshelves crammed with volumes rose up to the ceiling, and in one corner sat chests labeled with ingredients and materials. In the other corner, however, there was a pile of golden golems stacked disorderly… from which protruded two human legs that clearly shouldn't have been there.
Wanda let out a resigned sigh. With a simple gesture, she lifted the golems into the air as if they weighed nothing. She crouched slightly and tilted her head with a smile upon finding her son lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling with an exhausted look.
"What are you doing?" she asked calmly.
"It's harder than I thought. So I figured that if I became one of them, maybe they'd reveal their secrets to me," Harry replied with utter seriousness, as if his idea were the most brilliant discovery ever.
Wanda held back a laugh. Her son could go from being the most ingenious child in the world, to a ruthless copy of his elders, to someone intent on putting Dumbledore in constant trouble… and then back to being just a kid. Though, if she was honest, probably ninety-nine percent of that was her fault.
"Let's go eat before I turn you into a little Potter pig to force you to feed yourself," she said with a maternal smile.
"Mum, sometimes you're really scary. No wonder the English start trembling the moment they see you," Harry muttered, reluctantly getting up.
"Where are the others?" Wanda asked, walking beside him.
"Hermione's in the library, Daphne escaped from too much homework, and Draco was kidnapped by his house-elf," Harry replied with total naturalness.
"Then let's find Hermione so she can eat with us," Wanda said with a gentle smile.
…
"Did you discover anything, Harry?" asked Daphne as soon as she stepped into the manor. She was wearing an elegant dress, but her hair was a mess, as if she had torn off her decorations while fleeing her house.
"No. It's harder than I thought. Maybe I'll take one of the golems to Mr. Flamel's house so he can explain it to me," Harry said while flipping through a notebook full of notes. "By the way, where were you? And do you know anything about Draco?" he added, glancing at her sideways.
"I tried to escape, but my mother caught me and I ended up at one of those stupid noble parties. Draco was there too, with his elf clinging to his leg as if kidnapping him. You could tell he wanted to run away just like me," she answered tiredly, collapsing onto the sofa. "You have no idea how lucky you are not to go to those things."
"That's because everyone's too scared of my mother to invite her. Especially the so-called white faction. And honestly, that's for the best: there's no need to pretend cordiality with people who know we despise Dumbledore and his network of fools," Harry said simply, waving his hand lazily. "Bad luck for you, though, since your family is technically the leader of the neutral faction."
"Harry, next week we're going to a gala. We need to prepare a suit for you," Wanda announced as she entered the sitting room.
Harry spun around instantly, eyes wide.
Daphne, on the other hand, recovered all her lost energy and grinned from ear to ear.
"Bad luck for you, Harry," she said teasingly before leaping up with delight. At least she wouldn't be the only one suffering. With a light jump she rushed to the fireplace, waved her hand, and disappeared into the green flames.
"A gala? And where did that come from?" Harry protested, turning to his mother with a scowl.
"Your godfather said it's time to officially present you as the heir of the Potter family. It's also a way of entering society without making unnecessary enemies. Not all business contracts can be made only with the same families, Harry. And above all, in international society, it's important not to stagnate with the same fools as always," Wanda explained calmly, making her opinion of the English magical nobility very clear.
"Didn't godfather still count as a dog?" Harry muttered in annoyance.
"Lupin spoke on his behalf. Apparently, it's necessary, at least for his companies. Don't worry, your friends will be there," Wanda replied with a smile.
Harry sighed, resigned. It seemed, after all, there was no way to escape from these things.
…
The week was rather eventful. Harry was dragged by his mother to be measured for an elegant suit, and the seamstress seemed so excited that she ended up trying on all sorts of clothes, fabrics, and combinations, until he could barely breathe.
Of course, the moment he got the chance, he sneaked away to visit the Flamel house and learn about the golden golems he had found in the dungeon.
Mr. Flamel uncovered the secrets within seconds, but in his role as teacher, he explained to Harry step by step how to reach those same conclusions. He showed him how to analyze runes, how to read magical structures, and even shared a couple of spells of his own invention to scan and dismantle tools.
The boy, however, was soon caught again—this time along with Draco—to accompany the girls on endless shopping trips for accessories and decorations.
Even so, he still found a moment to stop by his godfather's house and leave behind a little revenge. Before leaving, he even amused himself by disguising the grumpy, ill-mannered house-elf as a clown.
And then, the day of the gala finally arrived.
…
"Mr. Potter, at last I meet you in person! I've heard so many stories about you… it's wonderful. My daughter is a great admirer. Even outside of Great Britain, your name is well known," said a man as he approached with a friendly smile.
Harry nodded slightly, keeping his composure. He stood next to his godfather, his manners impeccable.
"A pleasure," he replied. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, his hair combed neatly to the side, and without his glasses, his green eyes shone clearly.
"Mr. Black, it's also a pleasure to see you. I heard of your initiatives as soon as you became a representative of the Hogwarts School Board. That idea of sending students to study abroad while the castle is fully restored to ensure its safety… it's brilliant. Even other schools are considering the same, though on a smaller scale," added the man, turning toward Sirius.
Sirius smiled simply, also dressed elegantly, his long hair tied back in a ponytail.
"Well, I'm an example to follow," he said without a hint of modesty. Then he looked at Harry and added: "Alright, you can go join your friends."
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He bowed slightly to the man and walked away quickly, making it very clear how much he wanted to escape those flatterers.
In a corner, Draco, Daphne, and Hermione were waiting for him, watching with mocking smiles.
Seeing their faces, Harry only rolled his eyes.
"Hello, heir Potter, what a pleasure to have you among us tonight. Might I have the great privilege of a dance?" Hermione said with an exaggerated performance of etiquette, lifting the hem of her skirt and giving a small curtsy.
Daphne instantly copied the pose with equal cheek.
"Your Highness Potter," she added between giggles.
Harry clenched his jaw, annoyed, though he decided to hold back his revenge for later. He turned toward Draco with an exhausted expression.
"Are these parties always like this?" he asked wearily. Since he had arrived, adults hadn't stopped approaching him, speaking of their daughters, nieces, and all sorts of "proposals" that made their intentions crystal clear.
"An heir of an ancient family, with a company beginning to flourish, contracts with powerful houses, and on top of that recognized as a genius co-creator of the most fashionable golems… and all of this at only eleven years old. Harry, you're the perfect suitor everyone wants for their daughters," Draco answered with some irritation. After all, he suffered the same problem himself. Though, of course, he had a secret trick to protect him.
"But you're not the only one," he added, nodding toward a boy approaching them.
He was about fourteen, wearing a flashy white suit, his black hair perfectly combed. He adjusted the bow at his collar elegantly as he walked toward Daphne and Hermione with a radiant smile, as if stepping onto a stage.
"Good evening, beautiful ladies. I couldn't help but notice you from across the hall. Your smiles lit up the room so brightly I feared they were mere illusions of my own fantasy… and I had to come closer to make sure they were real," he said in a soft, rehearsed voice, bowing slightly.
Harry frowned at him. There was something about the way he spoke that felt suspiciously familiar.
"When I was in Egypt, they all praised me for my bravery… Oh, but let's return to the subject, where were we?" the boy added naturally.
In that instant, Harry understood. That cadence, that tone, that way of embellishing every word… it was exactly like Lockhart.
Daphne and Hermione looked at each other for a second, then burst into laughter.
"Hahaha, he really does sound just like Lockhart!" Daphne said, completely disregarding etiquette.
"Wait… I think Lockhart once said that exact same thing," Hermione added between laughs.
"Ahem," the boy tried to maintain his composure, but his face quickly turned bright red. He turned slightly, and in desperation, pulled a small book from his robes. He opened it and began frantically reading a page, as if searching for the perfect line to save himself.
Harry caught the title of the book when the boy snapped it shut: "100 Ways to Win Their Hearts. By Gilderoy Lockhart."
"Looks like even trapped in a public restroom he still manages to haunt us," Harry quipped sarcastically, making Hermione and Daphne laugh again.
Draco, however, only looked at them in confusion; he had never quite understood what had happened with Lockhart.
"Oh, so you're here too."
The new voice caught everyone's attention. They turned to see Luciel Delacour approaching with a friendly smile.
His attire stood out in the crowd: a white top with golden chains draped from shoulder to shoulder, a red sash embroidered in gold, fitted red trousers, and tall boots. Everything looked as though it had been sewn with pure gold. His blond hair was slicked back perfectly, and on his ear he now wore a fine golden chain that connected in three points, matching his outfit. Luciel looked like he had stepped straight out of a fairy tale—a true modern prince.
By comparison, the other boy's white suit seemed like an exaggerated, graceless imitation.
"Uh… excuse me, I have to go," the boy stammered, retreating quickly as soon as he noticed Luciel, shooting an envious glance at his clothes before disappearing.
Hermione and Daphne, without the slightest restraint, were instantly enchanted. They curtsied lightly, like smitten princesses.
"Hello, prince," they said in unison.
Luciel smiled at the nickname, showing no annoyance.
"I see you're having fun," he said naturally, before turning his gaze toward Harry and Draco. "So… how many marriage proposals—hidden or otherwise—have you received so far?" he asked with a hint of teasing, like someone who knew the feeling well.
"Implicit, about twenty. Explicit, three," Harry sighed.
"Wow, far more than I got when I first debuted in society. Although, well… back then I had a lot of pimples and was a bit chubby," Luciel admitted with a smile.
"Hahaha!"
Daphne's laugh was so exaggerated that the boys raised their eyebrows at her. Realizing at once that she had overdone it, she covered her face.
"Sorry," she murmured, embarrassed.
Luciel, unbothered, continued the conversation smoothly.
"In any case, once you have an official fiancée, the annoyance lessens considerably. Of course, secret letters will still arrive from time to time—but it's better that way."
"You have a fiancée?" Harry asked, curious.
"That's right. I'll introduce you when you visit Beauxbatons. She's also a student there," Luciel replied with a calm smile. Just then, someone called to him from across the hall, and he excused himself with elegance.
When he left, Harry turned to Hermione and Daphne. Both looked on the verge of collapse, as if they had just discovered that the prince of their dreams was irrevocably taken. Then he looked at Draco, who appeared as indifferent as ever.
Narrowing his eyes, Harry asked suspiciously:
"You have a fiancée too, don't you? That's why not so many people crowd around you like they do with me."
"Yes, but it's an engagement that will be canceled sooner or later. In the meantime, it serves well enough to save me from these annoyances," Draco replied with an arrogant smile.
…
The night carried on with music, dances, and endless conversations. But in Harry's mind only one thought lingered: soon, they would return to school.
Next chapter: Is this Beauxbatons?