The towering stone pillars of the Wizengamot chamber stood tall and foreboding as the session began.
Harry sat in the gallery, the silver emblem of his Lordships gleaming faintly. His expression was neutral, but inside, his thoughts churned with unease. He had spent the past few days reconnecting with his hatchlings, who were more than a little clingy after feeling the bond between them snap during his temporary death.
Altair, ever acting as his youngest, had admitted that Nox had been teaching him to use their magic and had been sending small bursts of static through the air whenever Harry tried to leave without telling him. Nox, meanwhile, refused to let Harry out of her sight, growling low if anyone – even his closest friends – got too close. Even Lyra's grown hatchlings had gotten involved, nipping playfully at his robes and scolding him for scaring them. It had been overwhelming, but the warmth of their presence had eased something broken inside him.
Now, though, the warmth was gone, and in its place was cold, hard justice.
Amelia stood at the centre of the courtroom, her posture stiff and her face as impassive as stone. To her right, the silver chair of the accused was occupied by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, their usual regal composure fractured under the weight of their shame. Lucius' head was bowed low, his platinum hair lank against his shoulders. Narcissa, though her chin was lifted high, couldn't quite hide the tremble in her hands as they rested in her lap.
"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Druella Malfoy," Amelia's voice rang out through the chamber. "You stand accused of aiding and abetting the Dark Lord Voldemort, conspiracy to commit murder, and the unlawful imprisonment and torture of multiple individuals. Do you deny these charges?"
Lucius raised his head slightly, his voice hoarse and bitter. "No. I do not deny them."
A murmur rippled through the gallery—no pretence of innocence, no attempt to sway the Wizengamot. It was a rare thing for a Malfoy to abandon pride.
The vote for Veritaserum had been passed early in the session, and three drops were administered to both Lucius and Narcissa under the watchful eyes of the chief interrogators. The potion's effects were immediate, their pupils dilating as the serum spread through their system.
Amelia wasted no time. "How long have you served Voldemort?"
Lucius' jaw clenched, but the truth poured from his lips. "Since I was nineteen years old."
"And you, Narcissa?"
She responded, her face pale. "I did not officially join his ranks until after Draco's birth… but I supported my husband's cause."
"Did you willingly commit crimes under Voldemort's orders?"
Lucius' throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes."
Narcissa exhaled shakily. "No."
That surprised Harry. He tilted his head, watching as Amelia pressed further.
"You're saying you did not act willingly?"
"I did not," Narcissa insisted, though her voice trembled. "I did what I had to—to protect my son. Everything I did… was for Draco."
A cold knot twisted in Harry's gut. He could believe that Narcissa would do anything for Draco—but that didn't excuse her actions. He bit back the bitter retort that wanted to escape.
The questioning dragged on for hours, detailing their crimes. Torture. Blackmail. The cold-hearted purchase of kidnapped Muggle-borns from captured villages. With each confession, Lucius slumped further in his seat, the proud aristocrat shattered by the weight of his own sins.
But it wasn't their trial that held Harry's attention.
It was Draco's.
When his parents were finally escorted from the chamber under heavy guard, it was Draco's turn to sit in the silver chair. Unlike his parents, there was no Veritaserum for him—he was still a minor under the law. But the moment he sat down, pale and trembling, he broke.
"I—I'll talk," he stammered. "I'll tell you everything."
The silence was deafening as every eye turned to him.
"Start from the beginning," Amelia commanded, her tone brooking no nonsense.
Draco's breathing hitched. "He—he branded me because of my father's failures." His hand twitched toward his left arm, where the Mark would be, but he didn't pull back his sleeve. "After the Ministry battle, I was given a task—to find a way to let the Death Eaters into the castle."
Harry leaned forward, every muscle in his body tense.
"I—I remembered the Vanishing Cabinet at Borgin and Burkes," Draco continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I found its twin in the Room of Requirement back in fourth year. I spent months fixing it. I didn't… I knew it would give him a way in."
Amelia's eyes narrowed. "And the cabinet? What happened to it?"
"I don't know, it should have still been in the Room of Requirment," Draco said, shaking his head. "I swear—I don't know what happened. The other cabinet was taken from Malfoy Manor before the battle began."
Harry's voice cut through the air, sharp and cold. "Your task was to let them in… so why did you kidnap seven innocent first-years?"
Draco blanched, looking at Harry with wide, terrified eyes. "I—he… he wanted leverage. He said—he said Potter would do anything for people he cared about. He made me give him names—the first-years Potter spent the most time with. He… he wanted to use them as bait."
A furious growl escaped Harry's lips. The rage in the courtroom was palpable—there was no forgiveness for betraying children.
"It was cowardice," Harry spat. "You could have refused. You could have warned someone. But instead, you fed him innocent lives like a snivelling little puppet."
"I was scared!" Draco shouted, tears pricking his eyes. "I—I thought if I obeyed, he wouldn't hurt Mother—"
"Coward," Harry repeated softly. "Even Barty Crouch Jr. showed more courage than you."
The courtroom stilled at Harry's words.
"What do you mean?" Augusta asked, narrowing her eyes.
Amelia exhaled through her nose. "Barty Crouch protected the child he was ordered to kill during the battle. He got the boy to safety—passed him to an Auror in the chaos. He hasn't been seen since."
Draco's face twisted in confusion. "He—he was potioning Crouch," he admitted weakly. "The Dark Lord. Long exposure from his father's Imperio… it made him unstable. Father said that Crouch was never that manic a follower, that even during the Longbottom's torture he was stunned by Bellatrix because he tried to interfere. But during a meeting a few months ago he snapped. He tried to kill the Dark Lord. Someone said he was shouting something about Regulus."
Gasps echoed through the chamber. Augusta even more so, never having heard this. Harry though, had an idea on what made Barty snap.
"And Voldemort spared him?" Amelia asked incredulously.
Draco nodded weakly. "He found it amusing. He ordered Snape to sedate him and decided to keep him alive—but under heavy compulsion potions to keep him obedient."
The weight of those words settled over the Wizengamot like a storm cloud. The truth was clear—Draco Malfoy wasn't innocent. Not by a long shot.
~
The heavy oak doors of the Wizengamot chamber creaked open, the sound echoing through the expansive courtroom. The Malfoy family was led back inside, their pale faces reflecting the harsh light from the enchanted windows above.
Lucius walked with the stiffness of a man who already knew his fate was sealed. His once-aristocratic pride seemed hollow now—his shoulders sagged under the weight of his guilt. Narcissa, while more composed, clutched the edges of her robes tightly, her mask of calm slipping around the edges. And Draco… Draco looked like a ghost of his former self, dark circles under his eyes and his once-perfect posture slightly hunched, as though the burden of his choices had crushed the last of his defiance.
Harry sat silently in his seat at the front of the gallery, his face impassive. A long week of trials had worn on everyone, but this… this was one case that struck a bitter chord deep within him. No matter how much he despised the Malfoys' actions, there was no joy to be found in watching a family destroy themselves.
Amelia stood at the centre of the chamber; her expression unforgiving. She surveyed the three Malfoys with an air of finality before addressing the gathered members.
"After extensive questioning, testimony, and examination under Veritaserum," her voice rang out, crisp and steady, "this body has come to a unanimous decision regarding the guilt and sentencing of Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy."
The chamber stilled, everyone hanging on her every word.
"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," she turned her sharp gaze on him, "for your crimes of conspiracy, unlawful imprisonment, torture, and aiding the Dark Lord Voldemort, you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban Prison without the possibility of parole."
A murmur rippled through the chamber. Lucius remained rigid, his expression carefully blank, but Harry didn't miss the slight tremor in his hands.
"You should count yourself lucky, Malfoy," Amelia continued coldly. "There were many who pushed for the Dementor's Kiss."
Harry caught a glimpse of Theo, sitting silently at his side, jaw clenched tight in anger. His own father had received a similar fate, life in Azkaban—but Theo's innocence had spared their family from financial ruin. The Malfoys, however, weren't so lucky.
Amelia's eyes moved to Narcissa, whose face, while pale, held a flicker of defiant pride.
"Narcissa Druella Malfoy, while your participation in active combat was limited, your support of the Dark Lord through monetary and strategic means cannot be overlooked. This court sentences you to ten years in Azkaban, to be served immediately."
Narcissa inhaled sharply through her nose but said nothing. Harry felt a brief pang of sympathy—not for her actions, but for the woman who had risked everything to protect her child. Yet, that same child had still played a part in the near massacre of innocent lives.
"And finally…" Amelia's voice softened just slightly as her gaze landed on Draco.
Draco's breath hitched audibly. His knuckles were white as he clutched the arms of the silver chair.
"Draconis Malfoy," Amelia began, her tone firm but lacking the raw judgment she had given his parents, "while the severity of your crimes cannot be overlooked, the Wizengamot recognizes that you are still a minor under magical law. As such, you are sentenced to ten years of house arrest within Malfoy Manor. You will remain under heavy monitoring by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and will be required to complete your N.E.W.T.s under Ministry supervision."
Draco let out a shuddering breath, his body sagging as if the tension holding him upright had snapped.
Amelia straightened. "Furthermore," she added, her tone brokering no argument, "this court has ordered that the Malfoy fortune—aside from a modest living stipend—be divided among three primary causes."
Lucius's head snapped up, alarm flashing across his face.
"A significant portion will be given to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to fund the repair of damage caused during the battle, as well as to assist future generations of magical children." Amelia's voice rang with authority. "Another portion will be donated to St. Mungo's Hospital to fund the long-term care of those afflicted by the Dark Lord's reign of terror."
The whispers grew louder, and Harry could feel the fury radiating from the remaining Malfoys.
"And finally," Amelia concluded, her gaze steely, "the remaining funds will be distributed to the families of those who fell during the war—including each of the seven children you helped kidnap, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco visibly paled at the mention of the seven first-years, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.
By the end of it, less than a quarter of the Malfoy fortune remained in Draco's name—enough to survive, but no longer enough to live the life of luxury he'd once known.
As the gavel struck to conclude their sentencing, Lucius and Narcissa were led away—Lucius silent in his defeat, Narcissa's head held high despite the tears shining in her eyes. Draco, however, remained seated for a moment longer, shoulders trembling.
Harry watched him carefully, but there was no pity left in his heart.
The next several days passed in a blur of trials, testimonies, and judgments.
It seemed that Harry barely had time to breathe—much less return to the keep. His letters had piled up, the number of owls arriving daily overwhelming even the most efficient house elves. And through it all, Dumbledore had been relentless.
Despite being barred from attending the trials, he tried repeatedly to insert himself into Harry's affairs. Letters arrived almost daily, filled with pleas, arguments, and veiled warnings.
Harry ignored every single one.
"Persistent old goat," Blaise had muttered after the third letter was burned unopened in the common room fire.
"And he's only going to get worse," Theo had warned darkly. "He doesn't like losing, and you humiliated him. He'll never forgive you for it."
Harry had merely sighed. As much as he wanted to rest, there was always another battle waiting just beyond the horizon.
~
Harry stood outside the door to 12 Grimmauld Place, feeling a strange mix of relief and finality. With the Dark Lord defeated and the Order no longer needing to hide, it was time to reclaim what belonged to his family.
Inside the kitchen, Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for him, leaning against the table, his broad frame casting long shadows across the dimly lit room. Despite the fatigue that etched his features, Kingsley's eyes brightened when he saw Harry.
"Lord Potter-Black," Kingsley greeted, his deep voice carrying a trace of humour. "Here to evict a few old tenants?"
Harry snorted, settling into a chair opposite the auror. "I'm giving you lot a week to clear out before the wards kick everyone out on their arses. I want it empty, Kingsley. No stragglers. And I'm not the one telling Molly Weasley she has to move back to the Burrow—that's on you."
Kingsley's rich laugh filled the room. "Not on your life, huh?" He shook his head fondly. "Fair enough, Harry. Honestly, most of us have been packing up anyway. With Voldemort gone, there's no reason to hide in a dusty old house."
Harry hummed in agreement. "I've already moved Sirius' and Regulus' things. Even Kreacher's living elsewhere now. Grimmauld Place is going to be nothing but an empty shell soon."
Kingsley tilted his head. "You thinking of keeping it around?"
"I'm putting a Fidelius on it once you're all gone," Harry confirmed. "But otherwise…" He trailed off.
"Wise decision." Kingsley leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Harry… you know if you ever want a place in the Auror Corps, you've got it. Hell, half the department practically worships you after what you did during the battle."
Harry let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "No offense, but after this year? I'd rather herd dragons."
Kingsley barked another laugh. "Can't blame you there. Still… the offer stands." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "And Harry—thank you. For everything."
Harry shifted uncomfortably under the gratitude, never quite knowing how to respond to praise. "I didn't do it alone," he finally said.
"No," Kingsley agreed. "But you were the spark that made it possible."
~
A few weeks later, Harry found himself once again visiting Teddy—something he made a point of doing regularly. Every time he held the little boy, something warm and fierce stirred inside him. His inner wolf rumbled contentedly whenever Teddy was near, and his bond with the cub only grew stronger each day.
But nothing prepared him for the night everything changed.
He was relaxing in his study at the Keep when a frantic silver jackrabbit burst through the air—a Patronus. Andromeda's voice trembled with barely contained panic.
"Harry, please—come now—it's Teddy—something's wrong!"
His blood ran cold. Without another thought, Harry disapparated, arriving with a sharp CRACK in the middle of the Tonks' living room. The sight that greeted him made his heart seize.
Andromeda sat curled in the corner, her face pale and tear-streaked as she rocked herself back and forth. His eyes darted around the room before falling on the crib, and his stomach twisted.
"Teddy?" Harry's voice broke as he rushed forward, expecting the worst.
His trembling hands pulled back the blanket, only to let out a confused sound.
Instead of the small, chubby baby he loved, a small wolf cub with soft, silvery blue fur lay nestled beneath the covers. Wide, golden eyes blinked up at him sleepily before the little creature let out a soft yip. He knew those eyes.
Harry exhaled in relief, his heart hammering against his ribs.
A door slammed open behind him, and Tonks stormed into the room, her hair a furious shade of scarlet. "That isn't my child!" she spat, pointing a shaking finger at the wolf cub. "This isn't what I wanted!"
Harry's magic flared dangerously at her words. Slowly, he rose to his feet, cradling Teddy against his chest as the cub nuzzled into his warmth.
"What did you expect, Nymphadora?" His voice was cold, cutting through her hysteria like a knife. "Didn't you realise what would happen? You seduced a werewolf during a blood moon—did you think there wouldn't be consequences?"
Tonks flinched at the accusation, but her anger burned brighter. "I didn't sign up to raise a monster!" she snapped, her face twisted in disgust. "I wanted an heir—someone who could give me what I deserve! But this—" She waved toward the sleepy cub with a sneer. "This is useless!"
Harry's fury boiled over. "You're talking about your child!" His voice echoed through the room, his magic causing the walls to tremble. "He's not a monster—he's a Moon Cub! Did you even bother to educate yourself, or were you too busy scheming for the Black inheritance?"
Tonks crossed her arms. "If you want him so much, take him. I don't want him. I never did."
A tense silence fell between them.
Harry turned to Andromeda, his expression softer. "You… you don't feel the same, do you?"
Andromeda's tearful face twisted with guilt and pain. "I—" Her voice faltered. "I can't, Harry. Every time I look at him… I see Ted. I see everything I lost. I… I'm not strong enough to do this."
He shifted Teddy carefully in his arms, brushing a thumb over the soft fur on his head as the cub snuggled closer.
"Fine," he said quietly. "I'll take him. But if I do, you'll never see him again. Are you prepared to live with that?"
Tonks didn't hesitate. "I don't care."
Harry's heart broke for the innocent child in his arms. He cast one last look at Andromeda, silently begging her to reconsider—but she only shook her head.
He turned his back on both women and called softly, "Tilly."
The elf appeared instantly, bowing low. "Master Harry?"
"Gather everything that belongs to Teddy. Take it to the Cove."
"Yes, Master Harry." Tilly vanished, and moments later, Harry turned back to Andromeda and Tonks, his eyes like ice.
"When Remus is recovered from the full moon," he said in a deadly soft voice, "you tell him to find me. We're going to talk." With that, he held Teddy close and disapparated with a loud CRACK.
In his arms, Teddy yawned and stretched his tiny paws before curling into Harry's chest with a soft, happy whimper.
"You're safe now, little cub," Harry whispered, his magic curling protectively around the sleeping wolf. "I've got you. And I'm never letting you go."
Asking Tilly to watch Teddy for a minute, he floo'd directly into Grimbok's office.
"You're here late," Grimbok grunted, setting his quill aside and narrowing his sharp black eyes at Harry. "Trouble?"
Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already messy hair. "You could say that," he muttered. "I need custody papers drawn up—immediately."
Grimbok leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "I assume this is about your little cub?" At Harry's stiff nod, Grimbok's face darkened with something akin to disgust. "I have been expecting this for a while now. And his donors?"
Harry's mouth twisted bitterly. "Disowned him without a second thought. Called him a monster. Told me to take him like he was some kind of burden. As if being a Moon Cub makes him a burden, does she not know how much of a blessing that it? He's not even able to change anyone else."
A growl escaped Grimbok's throat, low and dangerous. "Pathetic." He rose, moving swiftly to a locked cabinet. With a flick of his fingers, the enchanted lock hissed open. "I've had the papers prepared for a while now. You"—he pointed a sharp claw at Harry—"are a better parent than either of them. I'm surprised you didn't kill them."
Harry snorted. "I'm not that homicidal. Yet."
Grimbok returned to his desk with a stack of parchment, quill already moving across the page in sharp, flowing strokes. "You're too soft. We both know Remus Lupin will never step up. He's weak—always has been. Wolves are supposed to protect their cubs, not abandon them."
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know," he admitted. "I'll give him a choice." His voice was cold—colder than it probably should've been—but his magic flared in fierce protectiveness. "But if he doesn't sign these papers, I'll drag him through the DMLE myself."
Grimbok let out a low chuckle. "I wish I could see that." His expression softened—just a fraction—as he rolled up the documents and handed them to Harry. "Now then… let's see the little cub."
Harry's lips quirked into a smile, despite his mood. They floo'd back to the Cove.
With gentle hands, he peeled back the blanket to reveal the sleeping cub's sweet face.
Grimbok leaned over the crib, his usual gruffness softening as he observed the cub. "Hmph. Strong magic in this one," he murmured. "He'll be a powerful wolf—and a strong mage. Rare, you know. Moon cubs born from a blood moon union."
Harry's throat tightened. "I'm glad he won't suffer the way Remus does," he said quietly. "It would've broken me to see him in pain."
Grimbok snorted, sharp teeth flashing in a wicked grin. "Smitten already, are we?"
Harry flushed, pulling Teddy closer to his chest. "He's mine. That's all there is to it."
A beat of silence passed before Grimbok's expression softened again. "It's to be expected," he said quietly. "With your Bearer instincts, it's only natural that you'd want to protect a child. It's in your magic—your blood. I wouldn't be surprised if you end up with a hundred children in that new world of yours."
Harry's smile faltered slightly. "I can't, Grimbok. Magic needs magic. My… gift won't allow me to bear children if there's no one magical there." His voice was steady, but there was a raw edge of sadness to it.
Grimbok looked chastened. "I'd forgotten," he admitted. "But there's still a chance. Who knows? You might end up in a magical world after all."
"Luna needs a non-magical world, one without ley lines," Harry said softly, his fingers brushing over the crystal at his neck. "I've… tweaked the ritual. I'm aiming for Ignotus' world—where Cadmus' crystal should be. Hopefully it'll act as a beacon and guide us there."
Grimbok inclined his head, studying him for a moment. "And if Remus refuses?"
Harry's eyes darkened with fierce determination. "It doesn't matter. Teddy is mine, no matter what he says. I'll do whatever it takes."
"Good," Grimbok grunted, handing Harry a separate set of papers. "When you're ready, I'll guide you through the Blood Adoption Ritual. We'll make it official."
Harry tucked the scroll into his robes. "And Tonks?"
The goblin let out a quiet, malicious chuckle. "The Inheritance Disownment Ritual? Oh yes… that one we'll enjoy. She deserves nothing less."
Harry smirked faintly, then stepped toward the crib. "Watch him for a minute?"
Grimbok rolled his eyes. "Oh, by all means—leave me with the most dangerous creature in this room."
With a quiet laugh, Harry disapparated.
The Tonks house was quiet when he arrived. The scent of alcohol clung to the air. As he moved through the house, he heard the faint sound of sobbing from Andromeda's room—but his heart was too heavy to care. He found Tonks in the kitchen, nursing a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey.
She scowled when she saw him. "Here to return the monster?"
Harry's magic flared, pressing against her with suffocating force. "Sign. Now." He slid the blood quill and papers onto the table.
Tonks signed them without even reading them. But as the magic settled into the air, she looked up sharply. "Wait—what do I get for this?"
"Nothing," Harry snapped, snatching the papers back. "You signed away your rights, and if you try anything, I'll make sure the DMLE has every memory of what you did."
Her face went pale as he turned on his heel. "Tell Remus—when he's recovered—to find me at the usual spot. We'll talk."
And then, with a furious crack, he was gone.
When he returned to the Cove, he found Grimbok bent over the crib, his voice surprisingly soft.
"Aren't you a good little wolf," the goblin cooed, dangling a plush dragon over Teddy's head. "You'll make your new mother proud, won't you? Yes, you will—"
Harry cleared his throat, amused.
Grimbok jumped, nearly dropping the toy. "Dammit, Potter! I nearly had a heart attack."
Harry smirked. "Didn't know you were the maternal type."
Grimbok scowled, but his tone was light. "I'm not. But you're hopeless, so someone's got to do it."
Harry laughed softly, pulling Teddy into his arms as the cub let out a happy yip, nuzzling against his neck. And in that moment, all his fury and exhaustion melted away.
"You're safe now, little cub," he whispered. "And I'll love you enough for all of us."
~
The wind whipped through Harry's hair as he apparated to the spot in York, the usual meeting point where he had once picked Remus up for visits to Sirius.
Remus looked worse for wear—gaunt and pale, with dark circles hollowing out his eyes. His robes were slightly tattered, and his hair was streaked with more silver than Harry remembered. His posture was slumped, but there was a flicker of tension in his frame as Harry appeared.
"Harry," Remus greeted, his voice hoarse. "Why did you want to meet?"
Harry didn't bother with pleasantries. His heart still thundered with rage from the night before. "It's about your son."
Remus flinched, and for a fleeting moment, guilt flashed across his face. "Is… is he well?"
Harry's lips curled into a cold smile. "He's fine now. But I'm giving you one last chance to prove yourself." He stepped forward. "Will you fight for him? Leave Tonks and come raise him with me?"
Remus swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. "I—I can't." His voice cracked, raw and full of anguish. "You don't understand. I'm not… fit to raise a child like him. Not after everything. My wolf—my magic—it's already pushing against him. I can barely be in the same house without—without feeling like I'm losing control."
"You're telling me that your wolf won't accept its own cub?"
Remus' face twisted with guilt. "It's different for us, Harry," he whispered. "He's… stronger. The blood moon made him powerful. My instincts scream that he's not mine—not anymore."
Harry's lip curled in disgust. "That's a load of rubbish, Remus. You had a choice, and you chose her. You chose Tonks over your own son."
"I love her," Remus said weakly, but even he didn't seem convinced by his own words.
"And your son?" Harry pressed. "Do you love him?"
Remus hesitated. "I—I do. But it's complicated—"
"No," Harry snapped, pulling out the custody paperwork and slamming it into his chest. "It's simple. Sign this. Either give up your claim, or fight for him—but if you walk away now, you'll never see Teddy or Sirius again. Not ever."
Remus trembled. His fingers curled around the parchment, shoulders shaking. "Harry… I can't raise him. Not like this."
"You mean you won't."
A long silence stretched between them. Then, with a trembling hand, Remus signed his name. The blood-red ink glowed for a brief moment, sealing his fate.
Harry's heart twisted painfully as he snatched the signed document from Remus' hands. "You're a coward," he said quietly, his voice filled with bitter disappointment. "And you never deserved him. Neither of them."
Remus flinched but didn't deny it. Without another word, he turned and disapparated.
When he returned to the Cove, his anger melted away the instant he laid eyes on Teddy. The little boy had shifted back into his human form and was curled in his crib, amber eyes blinking sleepily up at him.
Harry swept him into his arms, holding him close. The warmth of his tiny body soothed the ache in his chest.
"You're mine now," he murmured, brushing a soft kiss against Teddy's forehead. "And I'll love you so much, you'll never want for anything."
The little baby cooed softly, his small hands reaching to curl into the fabric of Harry's robes as though he somehow understood.
~
The golden sun hung low in the sky, casting a shimmering reflection on the waves. The air buzzed with anticipation, laughter echoing against the cliffs as Harry's closest friends and family gathered on the beach, preparing for the adoption ritual.
Harry stood at the centre of it all, his arms securely around Teddy, who had taken to chewing happily on one of his fingers. His sandy brown hair tousled by the wind, his amber eyes wide with curiosity as he looked around at the familiar faces surrounding him.
Nearby, Nox and Altair shifted restlessly on the sand, their gleaming scales catching the sunlight. Lyra and her grown hatchlings lounged comfortably, though Vega and Cassie were fidgeting with the enormous bows now perched on their necks—one a soft lavender and the other a blinding shade of pink.
"This is undignified," Cassie grumbled, flicking her tail irritably as Grimbok's sons fussed over her bow, adjusting it to their satisfaction. Blaise had learnt how to do a partial animagus transformation and had been translating for them all day.
"Nonsense," Tazgira said with a toothy grin, her arms crossed as she watched the boys. "It's a special occasion—your vanity will survive a day of ribbons."
Cassie huffed, but when Luna clapped her hands and cooed over how adorable the dragons looked, the young dragon preened despite herself.
Altair, meanwhile, stretched out beside Nox, flicking his wings open to their impressive span. "I should have a saddle too, Mother," he said proudly. "When my new brother wants to fly with me."
Harry, caught off guard by the warmth in his chest at those words, only smiled softly. "Of course you will, Altair."
Nearby, Amelia stood with Neville, Theo, and Blaise, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement. She gave a low whistle. "You know," she said, her lips twitching into a rare smile, "with all these dragons and goblins around, I'm starting to think I'm in the wrong line of work. This is far more interesting than a day at the Ministry."
Harry laughed quietly and shifted Teddy in his arms. "Thank you for coming, Amelia. I know you've been swamped with the trials."
She waved a hand dismissively. "I wouldn't miss this for anything. You're doing something incredible—and after hearing what happened with the Tonks', it's clear Teddy's exactly where he belongs. It's also a good idea to have the new Minister witnessing this." She said with a smirk.
Harry's smile faded slightly. The memory of Tonks screaming that she didn't want a 'monster' still burned in his mind, but the weight of Teddy's small body against his chest reminded him that no matter their rejection—Teddy was his now.
Forever.
It brightened his mood somewhat to think about the full disinheritance she got. No longer will she be coveted for her rare ability. Now, she was just be a substandard auror who people cringe away from because of her similarity to her Aunt Bellatrix.
Tazgira approached then, her sharp eyes softening as she looked at Harry. "It's time," she said. "Let us make it official."
Harry exhaled slowly and nodded. He stepped forward, placing Teddy gently onto a short stone pillar, the little boy's feet kicking happily.
Teddy giggled, unaware of the gravity of the moment. The sound warmed Harry's heart, and he brushed his fingers through the little one's soft curls.
"This is a sacred ritual," she said, her voice firm and ancient. "A binding older than any human law—a vow that cannot be undone."
Harry stepped forward, drawing his dagger from his belt. The obsidian blade glinted in the fading sunlight. His heartbeat quickened as he made a small, shallow cut across his palm. Then, with infinite care, he pricked Teddy's tiny palm, wincing as the little boy gave a soft, surprised yelp.
"I'm sorry, cub," he whispered softly, brushing a kiss to Teddy's hand as a small bead of blood welled up.
Teddy hiccupped, but when Harry pressed their palms together, his giggles returned—reaching out with his free hand to clutch at Harry's robe.
Harry closed his eyes, letting the magic settle into his bones before speaking the vow.
"By blood and magic, by will and intent, I claim Edward Remus Lupin as my blood-born son. With this vow, I bind him to my house, my heart, and my magic. So mote it be."
A surge of power crackled through the air. Golden light flared where their palms touched, spilling out like liquid starlight, and Harry felt the bond snap into place—a connection even deeper than the bonds he shared with his dragons.
Teddy's amber eyes flashed, green flecks bleeding into them until they became a brilliant mix of gold and emerald. His sandy brown hair darkened into an inky black, only to suddenly flash into a bright turquoise blue, earning a collective gasp from those gathered.
The Black family magic surged within him—strong, wild, free.
Harry lifted Teddy high, his heart aching with love and pride. "Please join me in welcoming my new son—Edward Sirius Potter-Black!"
Cheers erupted. The dragons let out roars of approval, their wings beating the air in excitement. Luna clapped her hands gleefully, while Theo and Blaise gave whistles of celebration.
"Merlin, Harry," Neville laughed. "He's going to be a handful, isn't he?"
"Wouldn't want it any other way," Harry said softly, pressing a kiss to Teddy's forehead.
And then the gifts began.
Luna stepped forward first, presenting Teddy with a small, glowing orb filled with swirling silver mist. "It's a dreamlight," she said brightly. "So he'll always have soft dreams and never feel alone."
Neville gave Teddy a living plant charm, something he swore would "always bloom when someone who loves him is near." Like it was now.
Theo, blushing faintly, handed over a black leather-bound book with the Black crest embossed on the cover. "I thought… well, when he's older, he should know his family, right? It's got photos of us all in it, with messages, and room for more."
Blaise, ever dramatic, gifted Teddy a tiny silver bracelet enchanted to grow with him and shield him from minor hexes. "Can't have the little prince getting hexed in the sandbox," he drawled.
Finally, Grimbok stepped forward, holding a bronze bracelet engraved with intricate runes. "This," he said proudly, "is for you both."
Harry frowned curiously. "What does it do?"
With a wicked grin, Grimbok plucked one of the rune-inscribed orbs from the bracelet and dropped it to the ground. It expanded in a burst of magic—becoming a floating crib that hovered just above Harry's hip.
Harry's jaw dropped. "You're joking."
Tazgira smirked. "Grimbok hasn't slept in five days crafting this. It protects against harm, the lid closing, regulates temperature and oxygen, and—"
"It floats, Harry," Grimbok interrupted with a chuckle. "Just in case you need to chase down a rampaging dragon or two, it will follow you anywhere, unless you disable the rune."
As Harry placed Teddy into the soft, cushioned crib, the little boy giggled in delight as the crib bobbed after Harry like a loyal puppy.
"You know," Blaise drawled, "you could make a fortune selling these."
Grimbok snorted. "Bah, this one's priceless."
And for once, Harry agreed.
"Thank you, my friend. This is a wonderful gift."
Watching his friends and family surround him, the warmth of Teddy's laugh filling the air, Harry realised—this, right here, was the happiest he ever felt.
Even if Sirius wasn't awake to see it yet…
He would be.
~
The summer sun was high in the sky when Altair bounded across the cove's sandy shores, wings flaring with excitement as he practically radiated energy.
"Mother! Mother! My egg—it's going to hatch soon!" Altair's voice echoed, carrying the same eagerness as a child waiting for Christmas morning.
Harry, sitting on a grassy patch with Teddy nestled in his lap, looked up from where he had been amusing the cub by conjuring fluttering butterflies. He smiled, brushing a stray lock of black hair out of Teddy's eyes. "Is it? I thought it would be a few weeks yet."
"It's late," Altair huffed, turning back to the others. "But it's almost time—I can feel it. The hatchling is strong."
Nearby, Blaise stretched lazily under the shade of a large rock, one leg crossed over the other. "Merlin help us, another dragon to spoil. You're already unbearable, Altair."
Altair flared his wings proudly. "As I should be. But, Mother—" He turned his attention back to Harry. "We've all agreed. It's time we see the Keep lands. Nox says the cove will become too small soon. Blaise says there are plenty of mountains and more space there. We all think the cove should stay here to protect the rest of the pack."Harry's heart twisted slightly at the thought of leaving the cove—this place that had become a sanctuary. But he knew they were right. His family was growing, and the cove's hidden spaces, while comforting, wouldn't hold forever. He didn't think he had time to map out the cove lands to assimilate it into the keep.
He nodded, shifting Teddy in his arms as the boy let out a happy little yip, still clutching at a conjured butterfly. "Alright, let's go explore.I'll make sure your egg is brought to your new nest safely. I promise."
Altair visibly relaxed, nudging Harry's side affectionately with his snout. "Thank you, Mother."
Harry stood, casting a weightless charm on Teddy before turning to his friends. "I'm opening the case—let's see if it's big enough for you lot."
He pulled the expanded suitcase from his pocket, something he had created years ago. With a tap of his fingers and a pulse of wandless magic, the lid snapped open, revealing a vast, rolling landscape beyond the entrance.
A breeze rolled out, carrying the scent of wildflowers and fresh water. Within the magically expanded space lay mountains, glades, and lakes—a paradise Harry had carefully cultivated over the years. Herds of cows, sheep and goats grazed peacefully in the lower fields, managed and bred by his elves to provide fresh meat and milk for the dragons and the Keep.
"Well, look at this," Blaise whistled low. "Your own private kingdom. I always knew you were a secret tyrant."
"Less talking, more flying, Zabini," Harry snorted, motioning for the dragons. "Go on—explore."
With a chorus of eager growls and delighted bellows, the dragons surged forward—Nox leading the way with Altair on her heels. Lyra followed with her hatchlings, who were already squabbling over who would claim the best caves.
"They're like children," Theo murmured, watching as Vega tugged on her brother's wing with her teeth.
"They are children," Luna said dreamily, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Just… with teeth. And fire."
Harry laughed softly as they all apparated to the Keep. As much as he loved the cove, he had to admit—the magic here felt… right. Strong and ancient, like it had been waiting for his family.
He took a breath of the crisp air and turned toward the towering Keep in the distance. "I'm going to check in with Ignotus and Salazar. Let the dragons out for me? Tell them to go choose new caves."
Theo saluted lazily. "Aye, Mother."
Harry rolled his eyes and, holding Teddy closer, Apparated directly into the Keep's grand library. The moment his feet touched the cool marble floor, the familiar voices of his ancestors stirred from the portraits lining the walls.
"Finally, boy—do you know how long it's been?" Ignotus said, grinning as he stepped into his frame.
Salazar, sitting at a massive oak desk, raised a brow. "And he brings the child, I see. Let me get a look at the boy."
Harry chuckled softly and approached the portraits, tilting Teddy so the child could see them. Teddy squealed and waved his tiny hands at the two ancient figures.
"Isn't he precious?" Harry beamed.
Salazar let out a huff, but his expression softened. "He'll be strong. That blood adoption magic settled in deeply. He is yours in every way now."
"I'd expect nothing less," Ignotus said, eyes warm. "You're doing right by him, Harry. More than his bearers ever would."
Harry swallowed, the weight of their words hitting him hard. "I just… I want to do right by him. He deserves that."
"And you will." Ignotus' voice was quiet but sure. "But you're right to move. The masses will always want to own you—you, your magic, your family. And that fool Dumbledore is obsessed."
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. I just—"
"You're scared to leave people behind," Salazar finished bluntly.
Harry nodded wordlessly.
Ignotus smiled gently. "You'll always carry them with you, Harry. But your future—that lies ahead. And trust me, the magic you're building? It will take you exactly where you need to go."
Harry's heart steadied. "Thank you. Both of you."
As he left the Keep and returned to the expanded lands, the sight before him warmed his heart. The dragons had chosen a majestic mountain ridge overlooking the fields and Keep.
"This feels like Mother's magic," Altair murmured as Harry approached. "We want to build our nests here. Close to you."
Harry smiled. "Then let's get started."
It took most of the day, but by sunset, every dragon had their own cave nestled into the mountainside. Altair's egg rested securely within a fire-warmed chamber, easing his worry.
By the time Harry returned to the Cove, the silence felt… heavy. Empty. He entered Sirius' room, the familiar scent of leather and cedar lingering in the air.
He brushed his fingers over Sirius' face, his heart twisting as he whispered softly, "It's time to take you home."
He had no way of curing Sirius. But he would never stop searching. Harry forgets that the stone on his finger would give him the answer he needs, after all the dead have no need for secrets. Especially when questioned by Deaths chosen. It will be a while before he thinks to use it.
~
The sky was clear and calm, a peaceful contrast to the electric excitement that hummed through the land. Altair had been pacing restlessly for days now.
And today—finally—it happened.
A sharp crack echoed through the air as Altair's egg began to split. The dragons had gathered in anticipation, their collective breath held as the first fissure spider-webbed across the glossy, obsidian shell.
"Mother! It's happening!" Altair's voice trembled with excitement and nerves, his wings quivering as he hovered protectively over the egg.
Harry stood nearby, Teddy nestled securely in the floating cradle Grimbok had gifted him. He felt a warm sense of pride swelling in his chest as the egg splintered further, another loud crack echoing across the ridge.
With one final, forceful push, a tiny dragonet burst free, shaking pieces of shell from its sleek form. He was small, as all newborns were, but his scales were pitch black—so dark they seemed to absorb the light. When the little hatchling lifted his head, bright green eyes, bright as jewels, blinked up at the world for the first time.
"Mother… Look at him!" Altair's voice was hushed with awe as he leaned down, touching his snout gently to the small dragon's head, barely able to see the outline of his hatchling but still proud. The hatchling let out a soft, trilling sound, nuzzling against Altair's warmth.
Harry stepped closer, smiling softly as the new life before him stretched its delicate wings. Thin membranes, shimmering like polished onyx, unfurled from the hatchling's back—violet-tinted at the edges, as was typical of a Hebridean Black. Spiked ridges ran down the length of his back, his tail ending in a razor-sharp barb.
The hatchling stumbled on his legs, emitting a confused squeak, and Harry couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.
Altair lifted his head, his tone hopeful. "Mother… will you name him? Like you did for me?"
Harry's heart warmed at the request. Naming was a significant act among his dragons.
He crouched next to the tiny dragon, brushing a gentle hand across the baby's snout. "A name from the stars, hmm? Let's see…" He thought for a moment before his smile deepened. "How about… Rigel? He's one of the brightest stars in the Hunter's Belt."
Altair hummed approvingly, lowering his head to touch the new hatchling again. "Rigel. Welcome to our family, little hatchling."
The baby dragon let out a small rumble of contentment, curling close to Altair's warmth.
Harry smiled softly, lifting Teddy from his floating cradle so the baby could see. "Look, Teddy… another little one for you to grow up with."
The cub's small hands reached toward the hatchling, Rigel's small nose touching his fingers, letting out a quiet chirp.
~
The air in the Wizengamot chamber was heavy with anticipation. Rows of witches and wizards sat in their elevated seats, voices murmuring with speculation. Lord Potter-Black rarely stood to speak these days, and when Chief Greengrass asked if there was any further business, no one expected it.
Harry stood slowly, his expression composed but determined. The ripple of conversation ceased, and all eyes locked on him as he adjusted the emerald-trimmed robes marking his noble status.
"I have something to say," Harry began, his voice calm but carrying through the chamber. "I've been grateful for my time in this chamber. I'm proud to have played a part in shaping our world for the better. But today, I'm announcing my decision to step down from the Wizengamot."
A wave of shock rolled through the chamber. Excited murmurs erupted, and someone even called out, "Why?!"
Harry's eyes softened. "I've recently blood-adopted my son. And while I care deeply for this institution, my priority is raising him—away from the spotlight and the constant demands for my attention." People gaped and some gave shocked gasps.
The room shifted uneasily as he continued, "My initial goal was to bring Dumbledore's crimes to light, and I believe I've done that. I have no regrets. But while I have a knack for politics—" he smiled faintly, "—I think someone else can do better on my behalf."
He gestured toward Blaise Zabini, who leaned casually against his desk, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I introduce my proxy—Blaise Zabini."
Gasps rang out. "He's seventeen!" one elder wizard exclaimed, scandalised.
Harry merely smirked. "Yes, and legally eligible to sit on the Wizengamot. You forget that I was fourteen. I have full faith in his ability."
Blaise stood then, offering a charming smile. "You're welcome to doubt me—but I'll enjoy proving you wrong."
A chuckle rippled through the younger members, though many older wizards frowned.
"We've signed a contract, enforceable for the next ten years," Harry continued. "After that, we'll review and decide if I return. Until then, you're in very capable hands."
Chief Greengrass inclined his head. "We'll accept the motion. Mr. Zabini will be read in." He hesitated, eyes warm. "Thank you, Lord Potter-Black, for your service."
Amelia stood, offering a grateful bow. "It has been an honour."
Harry returned the bow and, for a moment, allowed himself to feel pride.
~
Later that evening, Harry sat in the cosy study of the cottage, surrounded by parchments and lists. There was so much to prepare for their departure—a journey to a new world. Supplies. Potions. Clothing. He added baby supplies to that.
"Anything I missed?" he muttered aloud.
The floo flared green, and Theo stepped through. His usual calm mask seemed shaky, nerves visible in his posture.
Harry raised a brow. "Theo? What's wrong?"
Theo hesitated, then stepped forward. "I… I need to talk to you. About the ritual. About… leaving."
A strange weight settled in Harry's stomach. "What about it?"
Theo exhaled sharply, as though steadying himself. "I'm not going."
The words hit Harry like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he simply stared at Theo in disbelief.
"What?" His voice came out softer than intended.
"I'm not leaving with you and Luna," Theo repeated, his tone firmer, but there was an edge of pain behind his words. "I can't. It's not fair. To you. To me. I thought… I thought things would be different. But they're not. And they never will be."
Harry stood up slowly, feeling his heart pound against his ribs. "Why are you saying this now?"
Theo laughed bitterly under his breath. "Why? Because I was an idiot, Harry. I should never have said I'd go. It was a fantasy—a stupid, impossible dream. I thought if I stayed by your side, maybe one day… but I know better. I always have."
Harry's chest felt tight. "Why did you say you would go, then?"
Theo's composure cracked. His hands trembled slightly as he slammed hand onto the desk. "Because I'm in love with you!"
The words rang out in the silence between them—raw, desperate, and undeniable. For a fleeting second, everything else seemed to fade away.
Theo's breathing was heavy as he continued, his voice quieter now. "I'm in love with you, Harry. I have been for years. And I think you know that."
Harry's heart ached. He wanted to deny it, to say he hadn't known—but that would be a lie. A coward's lie.
"I… I'm sorry, Theo." His voice trembled, heavy with the weight of things left unspoken. "I don't. I don't feel the same way."
The silence stretched between them, taut and painful.
Theo smiled, but it was a broken thing—fragile and laced with quiet heartbreak. "I know. I've always known. I just… I couldn't help hoping."
Harry swallowed against the lump in his throat, feeling helpless. "I do love you, Theo. But I'm not—"
"In love with me," Theo finished for him, his smile twisting into something more resigned. "No. You never were."
The air grew heavier as the reality of those words settled. For all they'd been through—for all the battles they had fought side by side—there was nothing Harry could say to make this hurt any less.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered again, blinking back the sting in his eyes.
Theo's expression softened just a fraction. "Don't be. I knew the risks when I fell for you. It's not your fault. And I meant what I said—I can't go with you, Harry. I'm Lord Nott now. My House… it's my responsibility. I can't abandon it."
Harry felt his heart splinter, even as he nodded. "I understand."
Theo stepped closer then, hesitation flickering across his face before he pulled Harry into a lingering embrace. For a moment, Harry let himself be held—let himself grieve the friendship that would never quite be the same again.
Theo pressed a soft kiss to the side of Harry's head, his voice low and rough. "I wish you, Luna, and Teddy all the happiness in the world. I'll be here—waiting for your call."
A weak laugh escaped Harry's lips, though tears burned at the edges of his vision. "I'm sorry."
Theo huffed a small, humourless laugh. "I'll get over it. One day."
They stood there for a moment longer before Theo pulled back, masking his pain beneath a smooth façade once again. "Take care of yourself, Harry."
"You too, Theo."
With that, Theo turned, disappearing through the floo.
The days that followed felt like walking on glass. Despite their talk—despite the honesty that passed between them—things between Harry and Theo had shifted.
It wasn't cold. Not exactly. But it was careful. Guarded.
Conversations were shorter, and lingering glances carried an unspoken weight neither of them was brave enough to acknowledge again. Yet, strangely, things also eased between them. The confession had stripped away the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface, and while it wasn't easy, their friendship grew stronger for it.
One night, as Harry was sorting through the last of his lists, Blaise plopped down on the sofa beside him, watching his quill move across the parchment with a speculative look.
"So… you broke his heart, huh?" Blaise said, casual but knowing.
Harry sighed, slumping back in his seat. "It's not like I meant to."
Blaise shrugged. "You never do. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
"I know," Harry murmured, feeling the weight of his choices settle deep in his bones. "I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn't lie. Not about something like that."
Blaise stretched out, propping his feet on the coffee table. "He'll be fine. Eventually. Theo's stronger than he looks. I told him you didn't feel the same way years ago." He paused, then smirked faintly. "And besides—you've got a whole other world out there."
Harry laughed softly despite himself, shaking his head. "Merlin help me."
Blaise's grin grew wider. "We're all gonna miss you when you're gone, you know."
Harry glanced toward the crib where Teddy slept peacefully, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The ache in his heart twisted sharper.
"Yeah, I know."
~
The sky burned gold and crimson as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shimmering light across the endless ocean. The waves lapped softly against the shore, the salty breeze tugging gently at their hair as they all sat huddled together on the warm sand.
Harry held Teddy close, the small boy snuggled against his chest, tiny fingers clenching the front of his shirt. He inhaled deeply, trying to burn this moment—this feeling—into his memory.
It was their last sunset together. Tomorrow, everything would change.
Luna, curled up next to him, let out a soft sigh. Her pale hair shimmered like starlight in the fading sun, and Harry smiled faintly when she turned and pressed a gentle kiss to Teddy's dark curls.
"You know," Blaise drawled, breaking the peaceful silence, "I think it's time we teach Teddy something important."
Harry raised a brow, already suspicious of the mischievous glint in Blaise's dark eyes. "And what would that be?"
Blaise leaned forward, smirking. "Come on, Teddy," he coaxed, his voice a teasing purr. "Say Uncle Blaise. Or, better yet—how about Mama?" He flashed Harry a wicked grin. "I mean, you're already the mother hen, aren't you?"
Harry huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "If anyone's the 'mama,' it's you. Besides, I'm pretty sure his first word is going to be dragon at this rate."
"Not if I can help it," Neville chimed in with a grin, reaching over to tickle Teddy's exposed belly. The little boy squirmed with a happy giggle. "I'm his favourite—he'll say Uncle Nev first."
Luna, without missing a beat, snatched Teddy from Harry's arms and cradled him dramatically. "You're all wrong," she declared airily. "Auntie Luna—obviously." She nuzzled Teddy's cheek. "Isn't that right, sweetling?"
Laughter rang out across the beach, warm and easy despite the weight in their hearts.
Harry tried to hold onto the sound, the way it made the ache in his chest ease just a little. Tomorrow—tomorrow would be hard. But tonight, they were still together.
The familiar tingle in his palm distracted him. He turned his hand over, tracing the shimmering rune now embedded into his skin—the Gateway of the Keep. In the last week, he had refined the magic, perfecting his ability to summon the portal wherever he stood. All it took was a flick of magic, and golden sparks would form the swirling doorway between worlds.
It was a remarkable feat of magic… but he hadn't figured out how to anchor a new doorway here. There would be no coming back. He would have to find somewhere safe to anchor it in this new world, he won't be able to leave the Keep ever again if he didn't.
Harry exhaled softly, brushing his thumb against the rune. "It's a shame," he murmured.
"What is?" Theo asked quietly, his face half-hidden by the fading light.
Harry glanced toward the horizon. "I can open the portal wherever I am, but I haven't figured out how to connect it back to this world." He swallowed hard. "It would've been nice to visit."
A heavy silence settled over them, the weight of goodbye hanging unspoken in the air.
Theo shifted beside him, leaning back on his hands. "Tomorrow's the big day," he said, voice rougher than usual.
Harry nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Yeah… it is."
His mind drifted back to the emotional goodbye he'd shared with Grimbok and his family just days before. The goblin boys had clung to him, calling him Uncle Harry, while Tazgira pressed a heavy bag of medical texts and goblin potion recipes into his arms.
Grimbok, the ever-stoic warrior, had broken down first. Harry followed soon after—his tears setting off Teddy, who had started to wail in unison.
They had agreed never to speak of it again.
Blaise let out a soft sigh, breaking the silence. "I wish we had more time."
"We had the best of times," Luna whispered, echoing the words Blaise had once said during the battle.
Harry swallowed against the ache in his chest. "We'll always have each other—no matter where we are," he said quietly.
He turned to his friends, his family, and met their eyes one by one. "I'm leaving the cottage in your care," he told Blaise. "Keep the wards maintained. And whatever you do—don't let the older Wizengamot members push any of you around. Between the three of you, I reckon you could rule the bloody Wizengamot if you wanted to."
Blaise chuckled, though the sound lacked his usual sharpness. "You've got that right."
"Don't worry, Harry," Neville added softly. "We'll keep everything in order here."
Harry nodded, smiling weakly. "Keep an eye on your mirrors. We'll contact you as soon as we can."
The night stretched on around them—filled with laughter and tears, with quiet reassurances and shared memories. They leaned on each other, reluctant to let the moment end, clinging to the warmth of their bond.
Blaise tried to teach Teddy to say "brilliant", which quickly devolved into "ba!"—a sound the little boy seemed quite pleased with.
Neville threatened to hex Blaise if he didn't stop teaching "questionable" first words, while Theo simply shook his head and called them all idiots.
Harry laughed until his sides ached, clutching Teddy close as if that might somehow keep reality at bay a little while longer.
When the moon rose high, casting silver light across the ocean, Luna shifted closer to Harry's side, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I'll miss this," she murmured.
Harry pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "Me too."
For a moment—just a moment—he closed his eyes and wished they could stay here forever.
But when he opened them again, he knew that tomorrow was coming. And ready or not, it was time to face their new beginning.
Together.
~
The night was thick with magic. The air hummed with energy, vibrating through the ground beneath Harry's boots as he stood at the heart of the ritual circle deep within the Forbidden Forest. The ley lines here—the very veins of the earth's magic—pulled at his core like a siren's call. Every hair on his body stood on end, and his heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline mixing with the sheer force of the power he was about to wield.
The circle itself glowed softly beneath him, etched into the earth with ancient runes—symbols of transition, sacrifice, and rebirth—each carefully carved and activated over the past few days. At the cardinal points stood black iron braziers, burning with pale-blue flame. Above him, the canopy of the forest seemed to shimmer unnaturally, the sky aglow with the ethereal pulse of converging ley lines.
Harry adjusted the harness on his chest, where Teddy rested securely against him, his little face nestled into the crook of his shoulder. The faint glow from the crystal around his neck pulsed in time with his heartbeat—steady, powerful, and unyielding. The weight of Luna's bracelet on his wrist—a token she had given him before his first year—felt like an anchor keeping him grounded. He had never taken it off. She still wore her own.
He inhaled deeply, casting a glance at Luna, who stood just beyond the inner ring of the circle. Her pale hair shimmered in the moonlight, eyes distant but focused, her hands trembling slightly as they brushed against her moonstone earring—where her own shrunken trunks were hidden. Despite everything, her expression was calm… but Harry could see the strain hidden beneath it.
"I'm nervous," Harry admitted quietly, his voice breaking the heavy silence.
Luna smiled softly, stepping closer. "It's going to be beautiful, Harry. You were always meant to walk the paths no one else dared to." Her voice softened, glowing with her ever-present certainty. "This is where your true future begins."
He gave her a tight smile, gripping the small trunks dangling from the bracelet Grimbok had given him. It held everything not in the Keep, gold, potions, baby supplies—artifacts from the Department of Mysteries, the time-turners, and even ancient tombs on soul magic—the ones he had stolen in secret only a few nights ago. His stomach twisted at the memory of the Peverell and Potter crests emblazoned on those books. The Ministry had hidden them from him—from his family—for centuries.
He decided he had nothing to lose by raiding the place, he can never come back here again, what if he needed something? He was lucky they thought it was the remaining death eaters that broke in.
Shaking off the anger, Harry focused on Luna again. "You ready?"
"As ever," she replied, stepping fully into the circle.
A shiver ran down Harry's spine as the magic intensified. Luna frowned suddenly, one hand rising to her temple. "The ley lines… the voices—they're so loud, Harry. There are too many, I can't make out what they're saying."
He swallowed thickly. "Stay close. Don't let go for anything."
Luna smiled gently. "I won't. I'm not leaving you."
Taking his position in the centre of the circle, Harry spread his arms wide and reached for his magic. Power surged through him—old, wild magic that responded to his call, eager and fierce. It flooded his core, coiling and twisting as he began to chant in the ancient tongue, pouring everything into the ritual. Pointing his left hand downwards, he let his magic manifest, being drawn into the main rune powering the ritual.
The air trembled. Magic whipped through the circle, coalescing around his feet in golden arcs. Each pulse of energy seemed to ripple through the forest, tugging at the very fabric of reality.
The crystal at his neck burned brighter, flaring a vivid white-blue as it harmonised with the ley lines. Teddy stirred against his chest, letting out a small, distressed cry. Harry gritted his teeth, focusing harder, feeding more power into the ritual.
Luna tightened her grip on his shoulders, grounding him as the magic grew fierce—dangerously fierce.
A violent surge of foreign magic pierced the circle like a blade. Luna's hands were ripped away from his shoulders as she was yanked backward by the unseen force.
"LUNA!" Harry roared, panic tearing through him.
His feet felt rooted—anchored by the ritual's power—he couldn't move. His magic was still draining into the circle, and stopping now would be catastrophic.
Through the howling magic, he caught a glimpse of a battered, dishevelled figure forcing his way forward. Dumbledore.
The old man's robes were ragged, his face slightly gaunt with exhaustion, but his eyes burned with fanatical determination as he pushed against the hurricane of Harry's magic, inching closer.
"Stop this nonsense, Harry! You don't understand the power you're tampering with! It's not yours to wield!" Dumbledore bellowed, voice laced with desperation.
Harry's heart hammered as he turned his right hand outward, summoning a violent burst of pure magic and air, and blasted Dumbledore back.
The old man stumbled, but his own formidable shields flared to life, allowing him to hold his ground. Still, he pushed forward.
"LUNA—GET BACK INTO THE CIRCLE!" Harry shouted, his throat raw.
Luna was struggling against the currents of magic, her eyes now glowing a blinding white, her own prophetic power rising to meet Harry's. Crystal tears streamed down her cheeks as her lips trembled.
"Harry—please!" she sobbed, trying to fight her way toward him.
Harry's vision blurred with the strain, his right hand locked in the air pushing against Dumbledore's shield, while his left hand remained fused to the ritual, keeping the magic from consuming them all.
Finally, the ritual had pulled enough magic from him and was now feeding on the ley lines.
"Grab my hand—please, just a little more!" he begged, extending his free hand toward her.
Dumbledore's face twisted with grim resolve. "You don't know what you're doing! You cannot use that crystal—I won't allow it! This power wasn't meant for you!"
Harry snarled, pushing more force into the blast, ignoring the agonising drain on his magic. "I will never let you control me again!" he spat.
Harry's eyes met hers as Luna's fingers brushed against his—so close—as the light from the circle grew blinding, the runes flaring with unimaginable brilliance.
A final pulse of magic erupted as a hand gripped his.
The world exploded into white light—blinding and infinite.
The noise stopped, a vacuum of silence as time itself seemed to hold its breath.
And then—
They were falling.
Stars. Galaxies. Endless swirls of cosmic light rushed past them as Harry felt the universe pull them into its embrace. Time and space fractured, collapsing and expanding in a dance of pure energy.
A heartbeat later it erupted in fire.
A burning, celestial flame ignited around them as they pierced through the skies of an unknown world, blazing across the heavens.
In the lands below, as the Great Comet burned its path, whispers spread through the nations.
A sign of new beginnings… great prosperity was upon them.
~
The Nara Forest was unnervingly silent.
Only the sound of hurried footsteps and the faint rustle of leaves pierced the quiet as a group of shinobi raced through the dense woodland, moving with the singular purpose of finding the lost heir.
The forest, usually a comforting shroud for the Nara clan, now felt suffocating—too quiet, too still—as if the trees themselves were holding their breath, waiting.
At the head of the group, Shikaku Nara moved with barely restrained panic. His normally calm and calculating demeanour was gone, replaced by something primal—desperation. His sharp eyes scanned every shadow, every flicker of movement, as though willing his son to appear.
"Anything?" His voice was rough, tight with fear, as he turned toward Kakashi, who crouched beside one of his summoned hounds.
Kakashi shook his head slowly, one hand resting on Pakkun's back. "The scent ends here," he said grimly. "No trace beyond this point. Whoever took him knew how to cover their tracks."
Shikaku's heart clenched painfully in his chest. His mind raced through the possibilities—a rival clan? Missing-nin? Someone wanting leverage against Konoha? None of it made sense. Who would target his barely six-year-old son. There were more powerful kekkei genkais out there. Or was it because of his own position?
A low, frustrated growl escaped his throat. "Damn it," he muttered, stalking toward a tree and clenching his fists so tightly his nails bit into his palms. His shoulders trembled slightly beneath the weight of helplessness—something he hadn't felt in years.
A soft breeze shifted through the clearing, carrying with it the faint scent of rain.
"Shikaku," a voice rumbled from behind him.
Chouza stepped forward, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on Shikaku's shoulder. His face, usually warm and kind, was grave.
"We won't stop searching," Chouza promised quietly. "One way or another, we'll find Shikamaru."
A shaky breath escaped Shikaku's lips as he shut his eyes tightly against the burning sensation building behind them. He had spent his whole life planning, calculating, outmanoeuvring—but none of that mattered when his son was out there alone.
"I should've been there," he whispered bitterly, his voice cracking under the weight of guilt. "I should've—"
CRACK.
His fist slammed into the trunk of a nearby tree, shattering it into splinters. The sound echoed sharply through the clearing, followed by the soft thud of wood falling against the mossy ground.
"We'll find him," Kakashi said softly.
The clearing fell silent again, save for the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the wind.
Shikaku breathed heavily, his muscles trembling with adrenaline and helpless fury. His brilliant mind, so used to working through even the most complex strategies, was clouded with only one thought—Where is my son?
He swallowed back the rising panic and forced himself to think clearly. Shikamaru was smart, smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He wouldn't panic. He would leave a sign, something for them to follow.
Yet… there was nothing.
As the minutes stretched on, the weight in his chest grew heavier. His hands curled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms as the feeling of helplessness threatened to consume him whole.
And then the air changed.
A pulse of energy rippled through the forest and Shikaku's sharp senses immediately locked onto it.
"Do you feel that?" Kakashi murmured, his body going rigid as his Sharingan eye spun to life.
Chouza nodded slowly, his brows furrowing in confusion. "It's... chakra, but not like anything I've felt before."
The wind stilled as the sky above them darkened unnaturally, the stars growing faint beneath the rolling clouds.
And then, from the heavens, it appeared.
A blazing red light streaked across the night sky, tearing through the atmosphere like a wound of fire.
It burned brighter and closer than any star Shikaku had ever seen, its glow casting eerie shadows across the clearing as it descended, trailing golden embers in its wake.
For a single breathless moment, the world seemed to still as Shikaku lifted his head to the heavens.
Please, he thought desperately, his heart pounding in his chest. Please… help me find my son.
As the comet blazed overhead, something deep inside him—some instinct older than logic—told him that his prayer had been heard.
And somewhere, beneath that brilliant flame, his future was about to change forever.