Aurelian watched silently from the doorway as Selene Carrow paced back and forth across the room in the mansion, arranging cushions with her wand and helping her daughters with whatever they needed.
When they had finally decided to share the news of the pregnancy with Hestia and Flora's parents, the Carrows' reaction had been… mixed. Both were overjoyed, of course, but Alaric's reaction—his father-in-law's—had bordered on madness; the fanaticism of his wives' father was a case study in itself. Upon learning that the bloodline of the beloved Voldemort would continue through his daughters, it seemed as though his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. The man had fallen to his knees, feverishly whispering about "the blood of his Lord" and the "glorious future of wizards," with such overwhelming intensity that before long, Aurelian, the twins, and even his own wife decided to simply stop paying attention to him and pretend he didn't exist.
For that reason, Selene had decided to spend much more time at the Gaunt mansion. Concerned for her daughters' well-being, yet deeply happy about the arrival of her future grandchildren, Matriarch Carrow had become a vital source of support.
The good thing about finally being home and having Selene's help was that Hestia and Flora's volatile emotions had calmed down a bit. They no longer demanded that Aurelian stick to them every damn second of the day. Well… deep down, they still wanted him by their side as much as possible, but if he wasn't around for a couple of hours, they complained considerably less.
And the reason Aurelian couldn't spend all his time snuggled up with his lovely wives was very clear: the news.
Van Droombeeld's propaganda campaign had turned his life into a circus. Aurelian had to step forward and smooth things over after the global outcry sparked by the "El Salvador" story. He spent his time giving statements clarifying the truth of the matter from newspaper to newspaper, dodging reporters, and meeting with leaders of various factions. When he had to walk down Diagon Alley to take care of business at Gringotts, the experience was unbearable. He felt very, very watched; people stopped in his path, whispering and pointing at him as if he were an exotic animal on display at a zoo.
To make matters worse, his great friends, the Weasley twins, had found in his newfound worldwide fame the perfect excuse to tease him relentlessly. Every time they saw each other, Fred and George would bow so low they'd almost touch the ground, shouting "Your Majesty!" or "Oh, great protector of magic!" right in the middle of the street, earning murderous glares from him.
With a sigh of exhaustion, Aurelian closed the bedroom door, walked slowly toward the bed, and flopped down on his back right between Hestia and Flora. The girls, instantly recognizing their husband's warmth, hugged him from both sides, and, lulled by his presence, fell asleep almost immediately.
He, on the other hand, was mentally and physically exhausted.
He had just returned from a tense meeting at Hogwarts with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. As had become an irritating habit in their recent conversations, the Archmage had summoned him to question his motives. Dumbledore, rubbing his forehead behind his desk, had asked him if he hadn't considered the consequences of his impulsive and reckless actions—the terrible repercussions they would have on the fragile wizarding society at such a delicate time as the one they were currently facing.
And boy, were there repercussions. The castle was a powder keg because of the newspapers. The students were divided, attacking one another and fighting in the hallways like cats and dogs.
To try to mitigate the damage and fulfill his part of the deal with the headmaster, Aurelian had had to descend into the dungeons and demonstrate his strength to make it clear to the Slytherins that he didn't approve of what they were doing. A display of his power was enough to make the Slytherins back down and promise to stop harassing the Muggle-borns. The headmaster thanked him with a nod, but Aurelian wasn't naive. He didn't have much faith that this fear would paralyze them for long; most likely, in less than a week, his "dear" classmates would be harassing the other students again—at least on the sly.
But worst of all, his day wasn't over yet. That very afternoon, he had another meeting scheduled on the other side of the globe—this time via the Floo Network—with Victor Van Droombeeld in New York. According to Victor, it was to thank him for saving his life and to discuss business, but Aurelian was certain there was something more to it.
"The weight of fame," Aurelian thought bitterly, staring at the ceiling of the room. "It really is suffocating."
Suddenly, Hestia stirred slightly beside him. Blinking sleepily, she noticed the tension in her husband's jaw and the darkness in his gaze.
"My love… are you all right?" she asked in a sleepy whisper, jolting him out of his dark thoughts.
The unease and annoyance on Aurelian's face melted away instantly. He turned his head toward her, raised a hand, and began to gently stroke her hair.
"Everything is perfectly fine, my dear Hestia," Aurelian whispered, kissing her forehead. "You mustn't worry about a thing. Go back to sleep."
Hestia flashed a sweet smile, closed her eyes, and, snuggling a little closer to his side, sank back into a deep sleep.
Aurelian adjusted his arms to embrace them both with the utmost care. He closed his eyes, inhaling the gentle scent of his wives, and decided to stop worrying about the magical world for a couple more hours, determined to enjoy that small, warm peace until another damned meeting demanded his attention.
That very afternoon, the green flames of the Floo Network flared brightly in the majestic fireplace of the Van Droombeeld mansion in New York.
Aurelian Gaunt stepped forward, emerging from the fireplace, and brushed a little ash off the epaulets of his coat. An elderly butler—the same gray-haired, stern-faced man who always accompanied Victor—was already waiting for him. The old man bowed.
"Welcome, Lord Gaunt. Please follow me; the master is expecting you," the butler said politely.
Aurelian nodded silently and walked alongside the servant through the wide hallways. Now that the chaos of the explosion and the sight of the wounded were gone, he could observe the place much more closely. The mansion was a veritable fortress. It was heavily guarded; wizards and witches, dressed in robes specially designed for combat, patrolled the hallways or stood guard at the intersections. Upon seeing Aurelian pass by, they all stopped short, bowing their heads in respect and giving him their full attention.
When they finally reached a large room at the end of the hallway, the massive wooden doors swung open.
There stood Victor Van Droombeeld, seated at the head of a long table laden with all manner of appetizers, delicacies, and bottles of wine from the most expensive vintages. Upon seeing his guest enter, Victor sprang to his feet, hurried toward him, and enveloped him in an effusive embrace.
"Ah, my young savior! I am immensely happy to see you again!" exclaimed Victor, patting him on the back.
Aurelian, who hated physical contact with anyone other than someone he trusted, gently but firmly pushed him away without losing his composure, maintaining a respectful distance between them.
"It's also good to see you well and recovered, Lord Van Droombeeld," Aurelian replied politely.
Victor let out a hoarse laugh, not at all offended by the rejection. He made a sweeping gesture toward the table laden with food.
"Forgive the extravagance, young man. I didn't have the slightest idea what you liked to eat or drink, so I simply ordered them to bring a little of everything."
"I appreciate the gesture, sir," said Aurelian, taking a seat in one of the velvet-upholstered chairs.
Victor sat down across from him, while the old butler took his place, standing directly behind his master.
For the next twenty minutes, they made small talk. They discussed the weather, politics in their respective countries, the market for magical artifacts, and "business" in Europe. However, Aurelian's patience was limited, and he quickly grew bored with such nonsense. He hadn't crossed the Atlantic to talk about galleons and food.
Aurelian cleared his throat, set his crystal glass on the table, and looked at him seriously.
"Let's set the small talk aside, Victor," Aurelian demanded, fixing his dark eyes on the patriarch. "What is the real purpose of today's meeting? Why the insistence on portraying me as a savior?"
Victor never stopped smiling. In fact, his smile grew much sharper. He took a sip from his glass of wine and, without taking his eyes off Aurelian, raised a hand and gave his butler a subtle signal to leave. The old man bowed and left the room, closing the doors behind him.
When the click of the lock echoed through the room and the privacy spells activated, Victor leaned forward.
"The world is changing at a dizzying pace, Aurelian," Victor began in a low voice. "Soon, people, governments, and creatures—we'll all have to decide which side we're on in the coming war… And I've already decided that I'll be on your side."
Aurelian frowned, genuinely confused.
"What do you mean, 'on my side'? I don't have a side in your stupid war, Mr. Victor."
The old man nodded slowly, but his expression made it clear he didn't believe a single word of it. He rose from his chair and walked over to a small cabinet to pour himself some more wine.
"If we don't choose, someone will end up choosing for us," he said, turning to look directly at him. "And please, young man, don't take me for a fool. A boy with your intellect and power wouldn't break into a maximum-security Muggle facility 'just because,' or out of mere curiosity," Victor explained, turning his back to him as the liquid poured into the glass. "You were looking for… something specific, am I right?"
Aurelian remained silent, not interrupting him, waiting to see what else the eccentric wizard had to say and how far his deductions would go.
"You and I are alike, Aurelian," Victor continued. "We know exactly what a danger non-magical people pose to all of us. Their weapons, their technology, their paranoia… If we do nothing, they'll wipe us out. And that's exactly why I chose you."
Victor raised his index finger and pointed it directly at him.
"To make you the new leader. The beacon our species needs. Wizards like Gellert Grindelwald… they have outdated ideas. They're trapped in their fleeting glories of the past and in wars they've already lost—and will surely lose again. You, on the other hand… you're different. You see the truth—a truth that knows what we have and what we must do to win."
Aurelian tilted his head, weighing every word.
"And what is that truth, in your opinion?" he asked in an icy voice.
Victor smiled even more broadly, his eyes shining with fanaticism.
"That Muggles must be controlled by force, subjugated, and stripped of their power before it's too late. It's our survival against theirs. And you are the only one capable of leading us in the massacre that awaits us."
Silence reigned in the luxurious room. Aurelian processed the proposal. Victor believed that his goal was to subjugate the Muggles, rule the Earth, and lead the magic supremacists on a crusade. He didn't have the slightest idea that Aurelian's true plan was something far more ambitious and monumental: to take the wizards to the stars and abandon that filthy planet to its fate.
However, Aurelian wasn't going to correct him. It never hurt to receive even more money for his plans; besides, Victor's political influence had already proven effective—he had entire guilds at his disposal and a large, devoted workforce that would undoubtedly help build the machinery needed to make his space conquest a reality. Basically, Victor Van Droombeeld had just handed him all of that on a silver platter.
The coldness on Aurelian's face melted away. His lips curved into a sinister smile, mirroring the old man's.
Perhaps—and only perhaps—he could use this old fanatic and all his resources to achieve his own goal; after all, everyone would come out ahead in the end.
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