Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of A Nundu for A Pet.
If you want to Read 17 More Chapters Right Now. Click the Link in my Profile Bio
Chapter 66, Chapter 67, Chapter 68, Chapter 69, Chapter 70, Chapter 71, Chapter 72, Chapter 73, Chapter 74, Chapter 75, Chapter 76, Chapter 77, Chapter 78, Chapter 79, Chapter 80, Chapter 81, and Chapter 82 are already available for Patrons.
Harry Potter stepped off the Hogwarts Express with the sort of casual confidence that came from having survived a basilisk, liberated a house-elf, created a Talisman that was on the front page of every magical newspaper in Europe, and publicly humiliated Lucius Malfoy all in the span of a single school year. The familiar chaos of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters surrounded him like a warm embrace—parents calling for children, owls hooting indignantly in their cages, and the general mayhem that occurred when several hundred magical teenagers were released into the wild for summer holidays.
Hedwig ruffled her feathers in her cage, clearly annoyed by the noise, while Itisa poked her black-furred head out of Harry's traveling bag to survey the scene with those impossibly golden eyes. To everyone else, she looked like an ordinary cat expressing typical feline disdain for human foolishness. If only they knew they were being judged by the world's most dangerous magical creature.
"Harry!"
The familiar voice cut through the platform noise like a particularly enthusiastic Howler. Harry turned to see Nymphadora Tonks bouncing through the students with her characteristic grace—which is to say, she nearly knocked over three first-years and a trolley full of luggage before reaching him. Her hair was currently a vibrant shade of purple that matched her Hogwarts robes, though Harry noticed she'd styled it slightly differently. More... sophisticated, somehow. When had Nymphadora started looking less like his surrogate older sister and more like—
Don't finish that thought, Harry told himself firmly. That way lies madness and family dinners that will never be the same.
"Look who survived another year of Hogwarts without getting permanently expelled," Nymphadora grinned, reaching for his trunk. "Though from what I heard through the Hufflepuff gossip network, it was a near thing."
"I prefer to think of it as 'living life to its fullest potential,'" Harry replied with mock dignity. "Besides, technically speaking, I never did anything that explicitly violated school rules. Helping students with monster problems is practically a public service."
"Right," Nymphadora drawled, hefting his trunk. "Because befriending thousand-year-old basilisks is definitely covered under 'standard student activities.'" She said the last part very quietly.
"Hey, I didn't befriend it initially," Harry protested, following her through the crowd. "It tried to eat me first. I was just being diplomatically minded about the whole affair."
Before Nymphadora could respond with what was undoubtedly going to be a devastating comeback about his definition of diplomacy, two familiar figures appeared through the crowd like islands of calm in the platform's chaos.
Ted Tonks and Andromeda stood beside him with that particular brand of elegance that seemed to run in the Black family, though, unlike her estranged sisters, she wore it like comfortable clothes rather than armor.
"There's our international business mogul," Ted said warmly, pulling Harry into the sort of hug that fathers gave sons after long separations. "Though I have to say, when we sent you off to school, we weren't expecting you to return with a resume that would make most adult wizards weep with envy."
"I've always been an overachiever," Harry replied, breathing in the familiar scent of Ted's cologne—something woody and warm that meant home in a way the Dursleys' house never had. "Though I promise I wasn't trying to revolutionize international magical commerce. It just sort of... happened."
"Things have a way of 'just happening' around you, don't they?" Andromeda observed with the sort of fond exasperation that only came from years of dealing with magically gifted teenagers. Her hug was gentler than Ted's but no less meaningful, and Harry found himself relaxing in a way he hadn't realized he'd needed.
"Harry Potter!"
The enthusiastic shout came from Sebastian Sallow, who was approaching with his characteristic swagger and Anna trailing behind him looking simultaneously amused and resigned to her brother's antics.
"Sebastian," Harry acknowledged with a grin. "I trust you're planning something appropriately dramatic for your summer holidays? Perhaps conquering a small country or discovering a new species of dragon?"
"Actually," Sebastian replied with a smile, "I was thinking of something more along the lines of 'not nearly dying in ancient magical chambers.' Call it a personal growth goal."
"How boring," Anna said dryly, though her sick eyes sparkled with amusement. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"It got temporarily misplaced somewhere between 'giant snake trying to kill us' and 'thousand-year-old memory trying to possess our friend,'" Sebastian shot back. "Funny how that works."
"Speaking of adventures," Hermione Granger appeared as if summoned by the mention of academic pursuits, her arms full of books that were undoubtedly her summer reading list. "Harry, I heard about your travel plans. Surely you're not actually visiting three different countries this summer?"
"That's true," Harry said with a smile, enjoying the way Hermione's eyes widened. "France, Italy, and Russia."
"Three countries," Nymphadora repeated with exaggerated awe. "My little brother, the international wizard of mystery. Should I start asking for your autograph now, or wait until you're running the International Confederation of Wizards?"
"I think 'little brother' might be stretching it a bit," Harry replied with a slight grin. "Considering I'm taller than you now."
Nymphadora's hair immediately shifted to an indignant shade of red that clashed spectacularly with her purple robes. "You are not taller than me!"
"Want to bet?" Harry asked, stepping closer with the sort of confidence that came from knowing he was absolutely right. "Because I distinctly remember having to look down to meet your eyes during our last Quidditch practice."
"That's—" Nymphadora paused, clearly realizing that Harry was, in fact, correct. "Well. Growth spurts are terribly inconvenient things."
"I find them quite convenient, actually," Harry said with mock seriousness. "Very useful for reaching high shelves and establishing dominance in sibling relationships."
"Dominance?" Nymphadora's eyebrows rose in a way that suggested Harry might have just stepped into dangerous territory. "Harry James Potter, if you think a few inches of height gives you any sort of dominance in this family, you are sadly mistaken."
"Is that a challenge?" Harry asked, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Children," Andromeda interrupted with the sort of patient tone that suggested this wasn't the first time she'd had to mediate between Harry and Nymphadora. "Perhaps we could continue this fascinating discussion of family hierarchy at home? The platform is rather crowded."
"Right," Ted agreed, though Harry noticed he was trying not to smile. "We've got a Ministry car waiting. Kingsley pulled some strings after that business with Fudge's... shall we call them 'creative budget decisions'?"
"Kingsley Shacklebolt arranged transportation?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised. "That was thoughtful of him."
"Thoughtful and practical," Ted replied as they began making their way toward the platform's exit. "Apparently, having internationally recognized talisman creators traveling by public transportation is considered a 'security concern' by certain departments."
"How wonderfully paranoid of them," Harry observed. "Though I suppose after the diary incident, a little paranoia isn't entirely unreasonable."
"The diary incident," Sebastian repeated with a low whistle. "Is that what we're calling 'Harry Potter single-handedly prevents the return of You-Know-Who while simultaneously freeing an enslaved house-elf and making Lucius Malfoy look like a complete fool'?"
"I prefer brevity in my descriptions," Harry replied modestly. "Besides, 'diary incident' has a nice, bureaucratic ring to it. Very Ministry-approved."
"Very Harry-approved, more like," Nymphadora muttered, though there was unmistakable pride in her voice. "Leave it to you to turn a deadly magical artifact into a teaching moment about the importance of treating house-elves with respect."
"Well," Harry said as they reached the barrier between platforms, "someone had to show Dobby what freedom looked like. And if that someone happened to be me, and if that freedom happened to come at the expense of Lucius Malfoy's dignity... well, I call that a win-win situation."
As they passed through the barrier and into the Muggle world, Harry caught Nymphadora looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite identify. It was proud, certainly, but there was something else there—something that made his chest feel warm and his thoughts temporarily scattered.
"What?" he asked, adjusting Hedwig's cage to hide his sudden self-consciousness.
"Nothing," Nymphadora replied, her hair shifting to a softer shade of purple. "Just... when did you get so bloody brilliant at everything?"
"Natural talent," Harry said with a grin that was only half-joking. "Plus, I had excellent teachers."
"Flatterer," Nymphadora accused, but she was smiling as she said it.
"Only when it's true," Harry replied, and found himself meaning it more than he'd expected to.
As they approached the sleek black Ministry car waiting at the curb, Harry reflected that some homecomings were definitely better than others. And this one, surrounded by the family he'd chosen and who had chosen him in return, felt like the very best kind of beginning to what promised to be an extraordinary summer.
⚯ ͛
⚯ ͛
The Tonks family home welcomed Harry back like an old friend's embrace—familiar, warm, and utterly unpretentious. Unlike the Dursleys' sterile suburban prison or even Hogwarts' ancient grandeur, this place simply felt like home in the most fundamental sense of the word.
Harry's bedroom remained exactly as he'd left it, which was both comforting and slightly embarrassing considering he'd grown several inches since September. The Quidditch posters still covered one wall, his desk was still organized with the sort of military precision that would have made Professor McGonagall proud, and his bed still featured the handmade quilt that Andromeda had given him for his first Christmas with the family.
"Right," Harry announced to his empty room, "let's see how much damage a year at Hogwarts has done to my organizational systems."
He opened his trunk and immediately regretted it. The carefully packed clothes from this morning had somehow transformed into what appeared to be a textile explosion. Robes mixed with Muggle clothing, books had somehow migrated to the bottom despite being packed on top, and his collection of quills looked like they'd been involved in some sort of territorial dispute.
"This is why I prefer alchemy," Harry muttered, beginning the archaeological expedition that was unpacking. "At least potions ingredients stay where you put them."
Hedwig hooted in what sounded suspiciously like agreement from her perch by the window, while Itisa emerged from Harry's traveling bag with the sort of regal dignity that suggested she had definitely not just spent several hours being jostled around like common luggage.
The moment Itisa's paws touched the familiar carpet, her entire demeanor shifted. She began what could only be described as a territorial inspection, padding around the room with the focus of a general surveying a battlefield. Every corner received careful scrutiny, every piece of furniture was thoroughly sniffed, and Harry's bed was subjected to the sort of detailed examination usually reserved for crime scenes.
"Everything meet with your approval, Your Majesty?" Harry asked with amusement.
Itisa's response was to leap onto his bed and begin kneading the quilt with the sort of aggressive affection that only cats could manage. Within moments, she had claimed approximately sixty percent of the sleeping space and was purring with the volume of a small dragon.
Hedwig, who had been watching this display with the sort of resigned patience that came from years of cohabitation, suddenly ruffled her feathers and hooted pointedly.
"Oh, are we doing this now?" Harry asked, recognizing the signs of an impending territorial dispute. "Because I just got home, and I really don't need you two having another one of your arguments."
Hedwig's response was to spread her wings in what was clearly meant to be an impressive display of owl superiority. Itisa, not to be outdone, opened one golden eye and fixed the Storm Bird with the sort of look that had probably made ancient Egyptian pharaohs reconsider their life choices.
The staring contest that followed was interrupted by Nymphadora's voice drifting up from the kitchen: "Harry! Mum says dinner's ready, and if you don't come down soon, she's sending me up to drag you down by your ears!"
"Saved by the dinner bell," Harry told his feuding companions. "Try not to destroy anything important while I'm gone. And remember—you're both equally loved, equally spoiled, and equally capable of making my life difficult if you put your minds to it."
Itisa's purr increased in volume, while Hedwig preened with obvious satisfaction. Harry decided to interpret this as a temporary cease-fire and headed downstairs.
The kitchen was perfection. Andromeda moved around the space, managing what appeared to be seven different dishes simultaneously. Ted sat at the kitchen table with the evening paper, though Harry noticed he kept glancing toward the cooking with the sort of anticipation that suggested something particularly special was in the works.
Nymphadora was perched on the counter, her legs swinging like a child's, though Harry found himself noticing that her legs were definitely not childlike anymore. Her hair had shifted to a warm honey blonde, and she was wearing Muggle clothes that seemed designed to remind everyone of her...well...that she was...shit!
Stop looking at Nymphadora's legs, Harry told himself firmly.
"There he is," Ted said warmly, folding his paper. "The conquering hero returns. How does it feel to be home?"
"Like I never want to leave again," Harry replied honestly, sliding into his usual chair. "Though I suppose that would make the whole 'international wizard of mystery' thing rather difficult to maintain."
"International wizard of mystery?" Andromeda repeated with amusement, sliding a plate in front of him that contained what appeared to be every comfort food known to wizardkind. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"I prefer 'diplomatically gifted entrepreneur,'" Harry said, breathing in the heavenly scent of Andromeda's cooking. "It sounds more mature."
"More boring, you mean," Nymphadora interjected. "International wizard of mystery has much better marketing potential."
"Marketing potential for what, exactly?" Ted asked.
"World domination, obviously," Harry replied with perfect seriousness. "I figure I'll start with magical artifact innovation, move into international diplomacy, and then gradually work my way up to benevolent dictator of the known universe."
"Benevolent dictator?" Andromeda asked, settling into her own chair.
"Well, I'm not unreasonable," Harry explained. "I'd probably let people vote on things like taxation and infrastructure development. But the really important decisions—like whether pineapple belongs on pizza or which Quidditch teams deserve to win the World Cup—those would be entirely up to me."
"Very reasonable," Ted agreed solemnly. "Though I have to ask—what about the slightly less benevolent aspects of your recent adventures? Because from what we heard, you took some rather significant risks in that Chamber."
Harry's fork paused halfway to his mouth as he realized Ted's question.
"I understand your desire to save Miss Weasley," Ted continued carefully. "She's a fellow student, and helping people in danger is exactly the sort of thing we've tried to teach you. But going down there alone, facing a basilisk and You-Know-Who's memory... Harry, you could have been killed."
"I wasn't alone," Harry replied quietly, setting down his fork. "Itisa was with me."
"Harry," Andromeda said with a mixture of exasperation and motherly concern, "Nundu or not, she's still one creature against a thousand-year-old basilisk and a Memory of You-Know-Who. Those aren't exactly favorable odds."
"Actually, they were pretty favorable," Harry replied with a slight grin. "Itisa is faster than the Basilisk, she is stronger and is more dangerous, her purple breath was able to kill Voldemort's memory in the diary."
"The point remains," Andromeda said firmly, "that regardless of Itisa's... abilities... you could have been seriously hurt. We've taught you to help others, yes, but we've also tried to teach you to use good judgment about when and how to help."
"I did use good judgment," Harry protested. "I sent Luna to get Professor Dumbledore, I had Itisa with me, and I made sure Ginny was safe before engaging with Tom Riddle's memory. I even managed to befriend the basilisk instead of just killing it, which I think shows remarkable diplomatic restraint."
"You befriended a basilisk," Ted repeated flatly.
"Her name is Sylas, at least that's what I call her in my head, and she's actually quite lovely once you get past the whole 'deadly gaze' thing," Harry explained. "She's been lonely for a thousand years, and Tom Riddle was a terrible master. I promised to visit her regularly so she doesn't go back to eating students."
"Of course you did," Andromeda said with fond exasperation. "Because why would you just defeat a monster when you could adopt it instead?"
"I have a type," Harry said with mock dignity. "I like misunderstood creatures with lethal capabilities and abandonment issues."
"That explains Itisa," Ted muttered, which earned him a reproachful look from Andromeda.
"The point is," Harry continued, "I was as careful as I could be under the circumstances. And everything worked out. Ginny's safe, the diary is destroyed, Dobby is free, and I have a new friend who happens to be a thousand-year-old snake. I call that a successful rescue mission."
"Next time," Andromeda said firmly, "perhaps consider involving more adults in your 'successful rescue missions.' We worry about you, Harry."
"I know," Harry said softly, his playful tone becoming more serious. "And I promise I'll be more careful. But I couldn't let Ginny die, especially not when I had the ability to save her."
"We know," Ted said with a sigh that spoke to four years of parenting a boy who collected dangerous magical creatures like other children collected chocolate frog cards. "Just... try to remember that being brave doesn't mean being reckless."
"Noted," Harry agreed. "Though in my defense, the reckless parts usually work out pretty well."
The conversation moved on to safer topics—Harry's upcoming travels, the international implications of his talisman work, and Ted's warnings about other countries wanting their own "piece of the Potter Pie," as Nymphadora put it with obvious amusement.
"Potter Pie," Harry repeated with mock offense. "I am not a dessert item, thank you very much."
"No," Nymphadora agreed, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "you're more like a main course. Something everyone wants a bite of."
The way she said it made Harry's cheeks flush, though he managed to keep his voice steady. "I prefer to think of myself as an acquired taste. Sophisticated. Complex. Not for everyone."
"Definitely complex," Nymphadora murmured, and something in her tone made Harry look at her more closely.
After dinner, they moved to the living room, where Nymphadora proceeded to show off the new metamorphmagus techniques she'd learned during her advanced training. Harry watched as she demonstrated partial transformations—changing just her eyes to match a cat's, or giving herself temporary gills, or shifting her hands into something resembling dragon claws.
"That's incredible," Harry said honestly.
"It's all about focus and intention," Nymphadora explained, shifting her hair through a spectrum of colors like a living rainbow. "The advanced instructors say it's similar to wandless magic—you have to believe completely in what you're trying to achieve."
"Show him the one you've been practicing," Ted encouraged from his armchair, where he was pretending to read while actually watching his daughter with obvious pride.
Nymphadora's cheeks turned pink—her natural pink, not a metamorphmagus effect. "It's still a work in progress."
"Come on," Harry urged. "I showed you my world-ending pet. Fair's fair."
With a deep breath, Nymphadora closed her eyes and concentrated. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, gradually, her features began to shift—her hair became longer and more lustrous, taking on an almost ethereal silver-blonde shade that seemed to shimmer in the lamplight. Her eyes shifted to a striking violet that matched perfectly with her enhanced features, which had become more angular and aristocratic. Her skin took on a flawless porcelain quality, and even her posture seemed to become more graceful, more elegant.
She looked like something out of a fairy tale—ethereally beautiful in the way that made people stop and stare.
"This is what I've been working on," she said, her voice carrying a slightly different cadence, more refined. "Advanced aesthetic enhancement. The instructors say most metamorphmagi get caught up trying to look like other people, but the real challenge is creating an idealized version of yourself."
Harry studied her for a long moment, taking in the undeniably stunning transformation. Then he shook his head slightly.
"It's impressive," he said honestly, "but I prefer you as yourself. The way you looked at Christmas, when you were just... you. That was perfect."
Nymphadora's enhanced features were undeniably beautiful, but something in Harry's expression made her hair shift back toward its more natural brown with golden highlights—the way she'd looked during Christmas when they'd shared that moment while he worked on his talisman.
"You remember Christmas," she said softly, it wasn't really a question.
"Of course I remember," Harry replied, his voice quieter now. "You showed me who you really were, and I told you that you were beautiful. I meant it then, and I mean it now. All this"—he gestured at her enhanced appearance—"is impressive, but it's not you."
Slowly, Nymphadora let her features settle back into their natural state: the warm brown hair with gold threads, the hazel eyes that held flecks of every color, the face that was pretty rather than stunning but infinitely more real.
"Better?" she asked with a slight smile.
"Perfect," Harry said, and this time when he said it, there was something deeper in his voice that made her heart skip.
"Right," Ted said suddenly, his voice a bit too loud in the quiet room. "I think I'll just... check on the garden. Make sure the gnomes haven't organized another revolution."
"I'll help," Andromeda added quickly, following her husband toward the back door with the sort of haste that suggested parental radar had detected dangerous territory ahead.
Alone in the living room, Harry and Nymphadora looked at each other with the sort of careful awareness that came from realizing that everything had suddenly become more complicated.
"So," Harry said eventually. "That happened."
"That happened," Nymphadora agreed, her hair beginning to shift back to its usual pink, though more slowly than usual.
"For the record," Harry added, "I've always thought your natural form was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I told you that at Christmas, and seeing you try to improve on perfection just reminds me how right I was the first time."
Nymphadora's hair promptly turned bright red. "Harry..."
"I know," he said quickly. "I know it's complicated. I know you're supposed to be my older sister, and I know I'm supposed to be the little brother who's too young and too immature to understand anything important. But I'm not eight anymore, Nymphadora. And I don't think I can keep pretending that I see you the same way I did when I first came here."
"You're almost thirteen," Nymphadora said softly.
"I'm almost thirteen and I've killed a basilisk, liberated a house-elf, and signed international contracts worth forty thousand Galleons," Harry replied. "Age is more complicated than numbers, don't you think?"
Nymphadora was quiet for a long moment, her hair cycling slowly through colors like a kaleidoscope of indecision. Finally, she looked at him with an expression that was part affection, part concern, and part something else entirely.
"You really have grown up, haven't you?" she said quietly.
"Still growing," Harry replied with a slight smile. "But yeah. I think I have."
"This is going to make family dinners interesting," Nymphadora observed.
"Everything's more interesting when you're involved," Harry said, which made her laugh despite the seriousness of the moment.
Before either of them could say anything else that might complicate matters further, Ted and Andromeda returned from their strategic retreat to the garden, both wearing the sort of carefully neutral expressions that suggested they'd spent their time discussing exactly how to handle their surrogate son developing feelings for their actual daughter.
"Right," Ted announced with forced cheerfulness. "Who wants tea? I'll put the kettle on."
The Tonks family living room had always been Harry's favorite place for serious conversations. There was something about the worn leather armchairs, the bookshelves that held everything from magical theory to Muggle mystery novels, and the fireplace that crackled with perpetual warmth that made even the most complex political discussions feel manageable. Tonight, with the evening light filtering through curtains that Andromeda had charmed to shift colors with the sunset, it felt like the perfect setting for planning what might be the most important summer of Harry's life.
Ted had settled into his favorite armchair with a cup of tea and what Harry had come to recognize as his "serious political discussion" expression—the one that meant he was about to dispense wisdom that Harry would probably need to remember for the rest of his life.
Nymphadora had claimed the other end of the sofa, her legs tucked under her in a way that was somehow both casual and distracting. Her hair had settled into its natural brown with gold highlights, and Harry found himself having to make a conscious effort not to stare. Andromeda was sitting near her husband.
"Right," Ted said, pulling out a leather-bound notebook that Harry recognized as his "international relations" journal. "Let's talk strategy. Because whether we like it or not, Harry, your summer travel plans have the potential to reshape European magical politics."
"No pressure," Harry replied with a slight grin. "I was just planning to have a nice holiday and maybe learn a few new spells. World-changing political implications were completely unintentional."
"They always are with you," Nymphadora observed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Remember when you just wanted to make a simple protective talisman and accidentally revolutionized international magical security?"
"That was different," Harry protested. "That was just good craftsmanship. This is... well, this is me accidentally becoming a diplomatic asset."
"Accidentally?" Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "Harry, darling, signing forty-thousand Galleon contracts with foreign governments isn't something that happens by accident."
"The contract was accidental," Harry clarified. "The talismans were intentional. There's a difference."
"The difference being that one makes you sound like a naive child and the other makes you sound like a political mastermind," Ted said with fond amusement. "Given your recent track record, I'm inclined to believe the latter."
Harry considered this for a moment. "Can I be a naive political mastermind? Because I think that might be the most accurate description of my current situation."
"It certainly explains a lot," Nymphadora agreed. "Only you could stumble into international fame by being genuinely helpful and then act surprised when governments start competing for your attention."
"Speaking of which," Ted said, consulting his notes, "let's review your summer itinerary. France first, late June to early July. Princess Crystal-Harmony's first steps on land, accompanied by Newt Scamander, plus whatever the Delacour family has planned for you."
"The princess thing still seems surreal," Harry admitted. "I mean, she's lovely, and I'm genuinely excited to see her achieve something she's dreamed about for so long. But the fact that I'm now apparently friends with underwater royalty feels like something that should come with a manual."
"The Delacour connection is strategically significant," Ted continued, steering the conversation back to business. "France has been neutral in most recent European magical conflicts, but they're also incredibly influential. Building personal relationships there, especially with a family as well-connected as the Delacours..."
"Plus Fleur is brilliant," Harry added. "Her understanding of curse-breaking theory is extraordinary. I'm actually looking forward to the professional collaboration as much as the personal friendship."
"Professional collaboration," Nymphadora repeated with a slight smirk. "Right...."
Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly. "It is professional collaboration. Mostly. With some... personal appreciation for her intellectual achievements."
"Her intellectual achievements," Nymphadora said with exaggerated solemnity. "Of course. Nothing to do with the fact that she's part Veela and absolutely gorgeous."
"Beauty and intelligence aren't mutually exclusive," Harry replied with what he hoped was dignity. "I'm perfectly capable of appreciating both her mind and her... other qualities."
"Smooth," Nymphadora said with obvious amusement. "Really, Harry. That was almost convincing."
"Moving on," Ted interjected. "Italy, mid to late July. Family trip, visit to Seravella, strengthening ties with the Italian Ministry."
"Now that should be interesting," Andromeda said thoughtfully. "Italian magical education is quite different from Hogwarts. More emphasis on practical applications, less on traditional subjects. You might learn some techniques they don't teach in Britain."
"Plus I'll finally get to see their talisman production facilities," Harry added with genuine excitement.
"And between Italy and Russia, we'll have your birthday celebration," Ted continued. "Which brings up an interesting question—how public do we want to make this party?"
Harry frowned thoughtfully. "What do you mean?"
"You're turning thirteen, you've just completed what's being called the most successful international magical business venture in recent history, and you're about to visit Russia at their personal invitation," Ted explained. "This isn't going to be a quiet family affair. The question is whether we control the narrative or let others control it for us."
"I vote for controlling it ourselves," Harry said immediately. "I've learned enough about politics this year to know that letting other people tell your story is usually a mistake."
"Smart boy," Andromeda agreed. "So we invite your close friends, make it clear that this is a celebration of Harry's achievements, and ensure that any press coverage focuses on positive aspects of your international relationships."
"Plus," Nymphadora added with a grin, "it'll be fun. When's the last time we had a proper party here?"
"Define 'proper party,'" Harry said suspiciously. "Because if you're planning anything that involves metamorphmagus party tricks or Auror-level pranks, I reserve the right to flee the country."
"Too late," Nymphadora replied cheerfully. "You're already scheduled to flee the country. To Russia, which brings us to the most politically significant part of your summer."
Ted's expression grew more serious. "Russia is... complicated, Harry. They're offering you access to magical research that most wizards never see, materials that other countries would pay fortunes for, and connections that could influence magical politics for decades. But they're not doing it out of generosity."
"They want something in return," Harry said. "The question is what, and whether I'm willing to give it to them."
"Exactly," Ted agreed. "And the answer to that question will depend on what they offer and how it aligns with your own goals and values."
"Plus there's the safety consideration," Andromeda added with obvious maternal concern. "Russia's magical research facilities are... intense. The safety protocols are different, the magical experiments are more advanced, and the political implications of any accident would be significant."
"I'll have Itisa with me," Harry pointed out. "Plus the rest of the family. I'll be as safe as I can reasonably be."
"Reasonably safe and Harry Potter don't usually go together," Nymphadora observed. "Your idea of reasonable safety usually involves befriending dangerous magical creatures and having philosophical discussions with ancient predators."
"Those discussions are educational," Harry protested. "And the creatures aren't dangerous to me."
"Only because you have a talent for making friends with things that could eat you," Ted said dryly. "Though I suppose that's its own form of diplomatic skill."
"The point," Andromeda said, bringing the conversation back to focus, "is that this summer will establish your position in European magical politics for years to come. The relationships you build, the agreements you make, the reputation you develop—all of it will matter long after you've graduated from Hogwarts."
Harry was quiet for a moment, absorbing the weight of what his family was telling him. At thirteen, he was already operating at a level that most adult wizards never reached. The decisions he made this summer wouldn't just affect his own future—they'd influence international magical relations across Europe.
"No pressure," he said finally, echoing his earlier comment.
"None at all," Nymphadora agreed with a sympathetic smile. "Just the future of European magical cooperation resting on your ability to be charming, diplomatic, and politically astute while visiting three foreign countries and maintaining friendships with underwater royalty, French magical nobility, Italian Ministry officials, and Russian research scientists."
"When you put it like that," Harry said with a slight laugh, "it sounds almost manageable."
"That's the spirit," Ted said warmly. "And remember—you don't have to do any of this alone. We'll be with you for the family trips, Newt will be there for France, and you'll have the benefit of everything we've taught you about magical politics and international relations."
"Plus," Andromeda added with motherly pride, "you've already proven that you can handle far more than most people twice your age. This summer might be challenging, but I have complete confidence in your abilities."
"Right then," he said with growing confidence. "Let's go change the world. Again."
"Again?" Nymphadora asked with amusement.
"Well," Harry replied with a grin that was pure mischief, "I seem to have developed a habit of it. Might as well be intentional this time."
He was interrupted by a sudden burst of brilliant golden light that filled the room like a second mini sun. Harry's book tumbled from his hands as he sat up, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, while Nymphadora performed what could only be described as an inverted somersault to get herself right-side-up again.
The light coalesced into the unmistakable form of a Patronus, but unlike any Harry had ever imagined. Instead of the silvery-white glow he'd read about in his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks, this creature blazed with warm golden radiance that seemed to pulse with its own inner fire. The animal itself was a vulture—not the most conventional choice for a protective spirit, but undeniably majestic as it spread wings that seemed to be made of liquid sunlight.
When the Patronus spoke, its voice carried the authoritative tones that Harry recognized as belonging to Amelia Bones.
"Mister Potter, Ted, Andromeda," the golden vulture announced with official precision, "I hope this message finds you well. Mad-Eye Moody and I will be visiting within the next few days to discuss certain... business matters with Mister Potter. I trust you'll be available for a conversation that may prove mutually beneficial."
The Patronus paused, and when it continued, there was a note of what might have been amusement in its voice.
"Additionally, I thought you should know that Minister Fudge has graciously agreed to authorize the purchase of one hundred Enhanced Talismans for Auror use. The paperwork is already referring to them by various creative names—'Potter Talisman Enhanced,' 'Potter Protection Plus,' and my personal favorite, 'Advanced Potter Protective Apparatus.' The Ministry's marketing department appears to have completely lost its collective mind."
With that delightfully bureaucratic bombshell, the golden vulture dissolved back into sparkling motes of light that faded like dying embers.
The silence that followed was broken by simultaneous snorts of derision from both Ted and Andromeda, who looked like they'd just been told that Minister Fudge had declared himself the reincarnation of Merlin.
"What's so funny about the Ministry buying Harry's talismans?" Nymphadora asked, looking between her parents with obvious confusion. "Isn't that good news?"
"Oh, it's wonderful news," Ted replied, shaking his head. "Absolutely wonderful that they're purchasing one hundred talismans for their Auror force."
"One hundred," Andromeda repeated with emphasis, her knitting needles clicking with increased vigor that suggested barely contained irritation. "Out of over one thousand active Aurors, plus approximately three hundred trainees."
"That's..." Nymphadora paused as the mathematics of political theater became clear. "That's barely ten percent coverage."
"Exactly," Ted confirmed. "Just enough to claim they're supporting Harry's innovations without actually, you know, supporting them. It's purely to save face."
Harry, who had been processing this information with growing understanding of just how cynical ministry politics could be, found himself torn between amusement and genuine irritation. "So they're buying just enough to generate positive headlines while ensuring they don't actually have to commit any real resources to keeping their Aurors alive. How wonderfully... political of them."
"Welcome to magical government," Andromeda said. "Where the appearance of doing something is often more important than actually doing it."
"But wait," Harry said, his attention returning to something far more fascinating than ministry politics, "can we talk about that Patronus for a moment? Because I've never seen anything like that before."
"You've never seen a Patronus before," Nymphadora pointed out with amusement. "What did you expect them to look like?"
"Well, according to every book I've read, they're supposed to be silver," Harry replied. "Silvery-white, translucent, that sort of thing. Not... golden fire-birds that look like they could probably fight actual Dementors in hand-to-hand combat."
"Ah," Andromeda said, setting down her knitting with the air of someone about to deliver an important magical education lesson. "You've just witnessed what's called an Advanced Patronus. Very rare, very powerful, and we don't entirely understand how they work."
"How rare are we talking?" Harry asked with the sort of curiosity that had gotten him into trouble on numerous occasions.
"Rare enough that most people go their entire lives without seeing one," Ted replied. "The magic required is... significant. Much more complex than a standard Patronus charm."
"Amelia's younger brother Edgar could produce one as well," Andromeda added quietly. "Before he was killed during the war. Same golden coloration, though his was a badger rather than a vulture."
Harry felt a pang of sympathy for Susan, remembering conversations about her lost family members. "Does Susan know about this? She mentioned last summer that Amelia was teaching her the Patronus charm."
"Susan's been making excellent progress, from what Amelia tells us," Ted said diplomatically, which Harry suspected was adult-speak for 'the girl's probably extraordinarily talented but we don't want to make assumptions.'
"I wonder if she can do the golden version too," Harry mused. "Magical ability seems to run in families, and if both Edgar and Amelia Bones could manage it..."
"Only one way to find out," Nymphadora said cheerfully. "Though speaking of Patronus magic, I have to admit I'm rather curious about what animals you and I would get if we ever learn the charm properly."
"You can't do a Patronus?" Harry asked with surprise.
"Not even close," Nymphadora admitted without embarrassment. "I'm hopeless at the spell. Something about maintaining the right emotional state while performing complex magic. I get distracted."
"I'm shocked," Harry said with mock amazement. "Nymphadora Tonks, distracted during magical instruction? Who could have predicted such a thing?"
"Shut up," Nymphadora replied, though she was grinning. "At least I have an excuse. What's yours for not learning it yet?"
"They don't teach it until sixth year at Hogwarts," Harry pointed out reasonably. "And I've been slightly busy with basilisks and international contracts to pursue independent study in advanced defensive magic."
"Fair point," Nymphadora conceded. "Though now I'm curious. What do you think your Patronus would be?"
Harry considered this seriously. "Probably something appropriately dramatic and slightly concerning. Maybe a dragon. Or a hippogriff. Or knowing my luck, something completely ridiculous like a platypus."
"A platypus?" Nymphadora repeated with delight. "Harry Potter, international wizard of mystery, protected by the mighty spirit of a platypus?"
"They're more dangerous than they look," Harry protested. "Venomous spurs, you know."
"Of course they are," Nymphadora agreed solemnly. "What about me? What do you think my Patronus would be?"
Harry studied her thoughtfully, taking in her pink hair, her upside-down position on the sofa, and the way her eyes sparkled with mischief even during serious conversations.
"Something that changes," he said finally. "Maybe a creature that looks different depending on who's looking at it. Or possibly something that everyone expects to be one thing but turns out to be something completely different."
"That's either very insightful or complete nonsense," Nymphadora observed. "I'm not sure which."
"With Harry, it's usually both," Ted said with fond amusement, gathering his ministry correspondence into neat piles. "Speaking of which, we should probably prepare for Amelia and Mad-Eye's visit. If they're coming to discuss 'business matters' with our resident international entrepreneur, it's likely to be interesting."
If you want to Read 17 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Patreon.com/Drinor' on Websearch