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The tense and heavy silence stretched on for a few more seconds, each person sinking into their own thoughts and concerns.
No one doubted what I had said. Almost everyone here trusted me completely — and they knew I would never joke or lie about something this serious.
Even the older Delacours, who didn't know me very well, believed my story after hearing the confirmation from their own daughter.
"So… he really came back," Ted murmured in a grave tone, breaking the silence in the room.
Harry nodded. "Yes" he said, his voice low and troubled.
"Bloody hell!" Ron let slip, his face pale and frightened.
Nobody tried to scold him for his choice of words.
In fact, words like that were currently echoing in the minds of many of those present — and some were thinking things even ruder and more descriptive.
"Everything is going to start again," Remus said, his face tense, "The chaos, the bloodshed, the persecution, the fear…"
"The war," Sirius finished for him, staring downward with a dark expression.
He was leaning forward, his arms resting on his legs and his hands clasped together in front of his face.
His hands were clenched so tightly that his fingers were already turning white.
The Animagus wizard then released a long and weary sigh, uncrossing his hands and running them over his face.
"Damn it… Why couldn't that idiot son of a bitch just stay dead?" he asked, throwing himself back against the couch.
"Well, there's a saying that the worst weeds are the hardest to pull out… And right now, I think it wouldn't be wrong to say Voldemort is the worst and ugliest weed ever grown," I said with a touch of humor, trying to lighten the mood.
Unfortunately, it didn't work very well. Everyone still looked worried and tense, sinking under a heavy and unfamiliar pressure.
Of course, the level of worry and fear differed for each person in the room.
My parents, for example, were worried and afraid, but mostly because of me. They knew that if something were to happen in the future, I'd inevitably be drawn into it.
Also, since they were Muggles, they had not lived through the rise of the Dark Lord years ago, so they had no understanding of the true weight of his return.
The same could be said about the Delacours.
Voldemort's influence had managed to reach France and other countries in the world through some purebloods who served him and had branches of their families there — the Malfoys, the Lestranges, and the Rosiers being the main ones.
However, the Noseless Lord didn't have time to expand his reign of prejudice and cruelty to those places before he was defeated, and because of that, the French did not suffer the same bloody terror that British wizards did.
Nick and Penny could also be placed in the same category as the Delacours, except they had lived for many years, and in those years, they had witnessed the rise and fall of many Dark Lords.
Because of this, they understood very well how terrifying and dangerous this type of tyrant wizard was. They knew how threatening Voldemort truly was, perhaps even more than those who had fought directly against him.
As for the others… they bore scars from that time.
They were the ones who had actually been involved in the last war — whether fighting Death Eaters or hearing stories from their parents about that dark era.
It was obvious that they would be the most affected by all of this.
'Sigh… I knew they'd react like this when they heard what happened,' I thought, shaking my head lightly.
I would have preferred that they didn't become so stressed and worried over this, but I knew that wouldn't happen.
It was only a matter of time before the weight of the situation hit them fully — and that time was now.
"Wait!" Sirius suddenly said, pulling me from my thoughts.
I saw him lift his head before turning toward me.
"Ethan, you said Voldemort used Harry's blood to resurrect himself, right?" he asked.
"Yes," I nodded.
"Okay, so what does that mean? For Harry, I mean?" he looked at me, worried.
Instead of answering him, I turned to Nick.
"What? Why are you looking at me?" the French wizard asked, confused.
"Because I'm not the expert in rituals and that kind of thing here," I replied.
Nick raised an eyebrow. "And you think I am?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, "But if there's anyone here who should at least know the basics about this, it's the six-hundred-year-old immortal alchemist who researches lost magic."
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…Okay. Fair point," he said, pressing his lips together.
Nick then turned to Harry. His eyes began to shine faintly as he stared intently at the boy.
He stood there for a few moments, as if analyzing Harry in detail.
'Hmm, I know his Magic Insight is a very weak and simple version of my Magic Vision, but can he notice the anomaly in Harry's scar?' I wondered, curious.
And judging by Nick's expression, he looked thoughtful — but his gaze never once paused on or even passed over the lightning-shaped scar.
'Right… seems like only my eyes can see something like that.'
I nodded internally, feeling a little proud of myself and my special ability.
Setting aside my brief sense of superiority, I looked back at Nick. He continued staring at the poor boy who had started to fidget nervously in his seat.
This delay began to make the head of the Black family anxious, and just when he was about to ask whether something was wrong, the alchemist finally spoke.
"Well, from what I can see, aside from the expected fatigue and stress, Harry is fine."
"And as for the ritual itself, based only on Ethan's explanation, I can't determine much. However, there is something I can say: this ritual will not cause any long-term negative effects on him."
"Are you sure?" Sirius asked, relieved but still cautious.
"I'm sure," Nick nodded firmly. "Rituals that use such specific ingredients — especially from human beings — usually produce effects that target only one subject."
"Of course, the subject could be someone other than the creator, like a victim or enemy — but in this case, the target was Voldemort."
"So, Sirius, don't worry. Your godson will be completely fine after a good night's rest," the immortal finished, smiling calmly at the anxious man.
Upon hearing Nick's confident assurance, Sirius truly relaxed this time. He then turned to Harry, smiling softly as he pulled him into a one-armed hug.
"See, Pup? You're okay. Tomorrow you'll be back in the castle pulling pranks on a few snakes," he said, giving a playful wink.
Seeing this, Harry let out a small laugh, nodding at his father figure.
"Oh, my dear cousin… Do you have a problem with snakes by any chance?" a calm voice — tinged with danger — said.
The cheerful atmosphere between godfather and godson instantly shattered.
Sirius froze as if struck by a curse.
Turning mechanically, he found himself face-to-face with Andy's cold stare, fixed on him with frightening intensity.
'Damn it, I forgot she was a Slytherin!' he cursed internally.
But outwardly, all he could do was force a smile.
"Hehe, me? Problem with snakes? Of course not! Never!" he said, sweating.
"Really?" Andy asked.
"Yes! Absolutely!" Sirius nodded rapidly, like a pecking chicken.
"Good. I would hate to have to teach my most beloved relative how… friendly a snake can be," she said with a small smile that, to Sirius, looked extremely threatening.
"Cough! Coward… Cough! Chickendor…"
Hearing the totally-not-subtle coughing, Sirius' right eye twitched.
"You want a throat lozenge, Ethan?" he asked, turning toward me with a smile that looked more like a grimace.
"Oh no, it's just my allergy to cowardly-dogs acting up," I said, waving my hand with disdain.
"Uh…" a vein bulged on Sirius's forehead.
"Cough! No guts… Cough!"
Hearing yet another cough, Sirius turned immediately — only to see Dora.
"Huh, weird… I guess it's contagious," she said, not even trying to hide her malicious grin.
"You two…" he growled through his teeth.
"Cough!"
"Even you!?" Sirius stared at Remus, who blinked in confusion, genuinely unaware.
"What? What did I—" the werewolf began, before bringing a hand to his mouth and coughing again.
Unfortunately for him, he didn't get the chance to finish that sentence, because a grown man suddenly launched himself at him like a wild dog.
"Hey! What the hel— urgh!"
"Shut up, you two-legged chihuahua!" Sirius snarled, both hands wrapping around Remus's neck, "Let's see if this reminds you to keep your bloody coughs to yourself!"
'Why the hell did my cough set you off!?' Remus screamed internally, struggling to get his friend's hands off his neck.
Meanwhile, the poor innocent victim didn't notice Dora and me laughing wickedly in the background.
End.
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