Magnolia Crescent — Evans Residence
9 August 1971 — Late Afternoon
The Evans household practically vibrated with nervous energy, as if the very air molecules had been charged with electricity and anticipation. In the sitting room, final preparations were being made with the sort of obsessive attention to detail that came from knowing this wasn't just dinner—this was their formal debut into wizarding society proper.
Natalia stood before the hallway mirror, her reflection wavering slightly in the old glass as she adjusted the emerald ribbons in her copper hair for what had to be the fourth time in ten minutes. Her dress—a deep forest green that made her sharp eyes look like cut emeralds—was perfectly pressed and fitted, chosen with the kind of strategic precision she brought to everything from chess matches to academic debates. She'd spent exactly seventeen minutes selecting it from three equally suitable options, analyzing how each color would complement her complexion and convey the right balance of confidence and approachability.
"Stop fidgeting with those ribbons," she muttered to her reflection, her voice carrying that particular brand of self-directed irritation that came from perfectionist tendencies clashing with human limitations. "They were fine the first three times."
At her feet, Laika sat with the kind of regal composure that made ordinary housecats look like amateur performers. The fox-like creature's russet fur gleamed from a thorough brushing that had taken twenty minutes and considerable negotiation—kitsune, as it turned out, had very specific opinions about grooming techniques. Her intelligent amber eyes reflected the same calculated calm as her human, though there was something distinctly amused in her expression as she watched Natalia's ritual of appearance optimization.
"You know she's laughing at you, right?" Lily called from the sitting room, her voice carrying that particular note of sisterly affection mixed with gentle mockery that only twins could truly master. "Laika's been giving you that 'humans are ridiculous but entertaining' look for the past five minutes."
"Laika has excellent judgment," Natalia replied coolly, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "She recognizes the importance of making proper first impressions. Unlike certain sisters who think showing up with bed-head constitutes acceptable social presentation."
"My hair does not look like bed-head!" Lily protested, appearing in the doorway with her wild red curls somewhat tamed into submission through what had clearly been an epic battle involving multiple hair products and sheer determination. Her dress was a warm amber that brought out the emerald in her eyes, and she'd managed to convince her unruly mane to behave in loose waves that looked deliberately tousled rather than accidentally chaotic.
"I'll give you credit," Natalia said, turning from the mirror to examine her sister with critical approval, "you've achieved what could generously be called 'artfully disheveled.' It's actually quite fetching in an 'I woke up like this but definitely didn't' sort of way."
"Gee, thanks for that ringing endorsement," Lily said dryly, though she was grinning as she said it. "Your sisterly support never fails to warm my heart."
"I contain multitudes of warmth," Natalia replied with mock solemnity. "I just express it through constructive criticism and tactical fashion advice."
"You look lovely, sweetheart," Melanie said, appearing with the kind of maternal timing that suggested she'd been hovering just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to intercede. Her own navy blue dress—the one she'd agonized over for a full twenty minutes before deciding it struck the right balance between formal and approachable—was perfectly pressed, and her dark hair was arranged in an elegant chignon that had taken three attempts and a considerable amount of hairspray to achieve. Her hands betrayed her nervousness with the way they kept smoothing invisible wrinkles and checking her appearance in every reflective surface they passed.
"Both of you look lovely," she continued, her voice carrying that particular blend of maternal pride and barely concealed anxiety that came from knowing your children were about to be judged by people whose opinions mattered in ways you didn't fully understand yet. "Though I do wish you'd stop adjusting everything. You were perfect ten minutes ago, and you're still perfect now."
"Define perfect," Natalia said, raising an eyebrow with the kind of precision that suggested she had very specific standards for the term. "Because if we're using the mathematical definition—"
"We're not," Alex interrupted firmly, emerging from the kitchen where he'd been doing his own nervous pacing disguised as 'checking that everything was properly put away.' His best suit—reserved for university functions and the kind of important business meetings that determined funding and tenure—had been pressed within an inch of its life, and his graying hair was combed with the sort of precision usually reserved for military inspections or job interviews. "We're using the dad definition, which means you both look beautiful and anyone who doesn't immediately recognize that fact is clearly suffering from some form of optical dysfunction."
"That's very scientific, Dad," Lily said with obvious affection, though her voice carried a note of gentle teasing. "Optical dysfunction. I'm sure the Potter family will be impressed by your medical terminology."
"Hey, I teach medieval literature, not medicine," Alex replied with a grin that made him look years younger despite the obvious tension in his shoulders. "But I figure if I throw around enough academic-sounding terms, maybe they'll think I'm smart enough to keep up with all this magical theory you kids keep discussing."
"You keep up fine," Natalia said with the kind of fond exasperation that came from having to reassure a parent who was clearly more intelligent than he gave himself credit for. "You just pretend not to understand so we'll explain things to you in detail. I've seen you reading our textbooks when you think no one's looking."
"Guilty as charged," Alex admitted cheerfully, raising his hands in mock surrender while trying not to look too pleased at being caught in his intellectual curiosity. "Medieval literature doesn't exactly prepare you for discussions of magical theory, but it does teach you how to analyze complex texts and identify underlying themes. Some of these concepts are actually quite fascinating once you get past the 'this is impossible according to everything I thought I knew about physics' part."
"Everything's impossible until it isn't," Severus said quietly, appearing in the doorway like a shadow given form. The transformation was remarkable—his usually limp black hair had been washed and combed until it gleamed, though it still hung in those characteristic curtains that framed his pale, angular face. His secondhand dress robes were clearly from several years past, and the fabric had that particular quality that came from being well-cared-for rather than expensive, but they'd been cleaned and pressed with such meticulous attention that they hung on his thin frame with dignity rather than poverty. There was something different about his posture too—straighter, more confident, as if the formal clothes had reminded him that knowledge and intelligence were worth more than money or social standing.
"Very philosophical, Severus," Lily said warmly, her smile carrying the kind of genuine affection that had characterized their friendship from the beginning. "Though I think Dad was referring more to the 'suddenly my daughters can do magic' impossible rather than the general philosophical concept of impossibility."
"The principle remains the same," Severus replied with a slight smile that transformed his usually serious features into something almost boyish. "Besides, if we can accept that people can transform into animals and brew potions that alter fundamental aspects of reality, accepting that Mr. Evans is intellectually curious enough to research magical theory seems relatively straightforward."
"You look very handsome, Severus," Melanie said with the kind of maternal warmth that had characterized every interaction she'd had with the boy since Lily had first brought him home. "I'm so glad you're joining us tonight. It wouldn't be the same without you."
Severus's pale cheeks flushed pink with pleased embarrassment, his dark eyes reflecting a gratitude that went deeper than simple politeness. "Thank you, Mrs. Evans. I... I appreciate you including me in this invitation. I know it must be unusual, having a friend rather than a family member join such an occasion."
"You are family," Lily said with the kind of absolute certainty that brooked no argument, her voice carrying the fierce loyalty that had always been one of her defining characteristics. "You've been part of this magical journey with us from the beginning. Of course you belong here."
"Besides," Alex added with obvious sincerity, his expression growing more serious as he looked at the boy who'd become like a son to them over the past few months, "someone needs to help me understand all the theoretical discussions everyone keeps having. My daughters have gotten entirely too brilliant for their old dad to keep up with."
"That's because you raised us to be critical thinkers," Natalia pointed out with characteristic precision, though her voice carried genuine affection. "You can hardly complain about the results of your own excellent parenting."
"I'm not complaining," Alex said, his voice warm with paternal pride. "I'm bragging disguised as complaining. There's a difference."
Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp, authoritative knock at the front door—the kind of knock that spoke of confidence, good breeding, and the expectation of welcome. It was followed immediately by a second, lighter knock that suggested there were multiple visitors with different approaches to door-knocking etiquette.
"That'll be them," Melanie said, her voice climbing slightly with nervousness as she smoothed her skirt one final time and checked her reflection in the hall mirror for what had to be the dozenth time in the past hour.
"Right then," Alex said, straightening his tie with the kind of determined motion that suggested he was preparing for battle, though the pleasant kind of battle that involved making good impressions and not embarrassing his family. "Time to meet the wizarding aristocracy. How hard can it be?"
"Famous last words," Natalia murmured under her breath, though she was smiling as she said it.
Alex shot her a mock glare before moving to answer the door with the kind of determined hospitality that had served him well in academic social functions, though admittedly those rarely involved magical creatures or discussions of impossible familiar bonds.
When he opened the door, they were greeted by two men who were clearly cut from the same distinguished cloth but represented different generations of the same impeccable lineage. The family resemblance was unmistakable—the strong jawlines, the intelligent eyes, the way they both carried themselves with the kind of unconscious authority that came from generations of wizarding nobility.
The older of the two stepped forward first, and Alex found himself face-to-face with a man who managed to embody everything he'd expected from wizarding aristocracy while simultaneously being far more approachable than anticipated. Fleamont Potter was in his early sixties, with silver-streaked dark hair that caught the evening light and kind blue eyes that crinkled at the corners with the sort of laugh lines that spoke of a man who found genuine joy in life. His robes were clearly expensive—deep burgundy wool with subtle silver thread embroidery that probably cost more than Alex made in a month—but they were worn with the kind of understated elegance that spoke of quality rather than ostentation.
"Mr. Evans?" Fleamont said, his voice carrying a cultured accent that managed to suggest excellent education and old money without a trace of the condescension that sometimes accompanied such advantages. There was something immediately warm about him, a natural charisma that made Alex feel like they'd been friends for years rather than strangers meeting for the first time. "I'm Fleamont Potter—James's father. Thank you so much for agreeing to join us this evening. I do hope we haven't put you to too much trouble."
"Fleamont, please, come in," Alex replied, stepping back to welcome them into the hallway with genuine warmth, his earlier nervousness already beginning to ease in the face of such obvious friendliness. "We're absolutely delighted to meet you. Though I have to admit, we're all a bit nervous about making proper impressions."
"Nonsense," Fleamont said with a dismissive wave that suggested the very idea was ridiculous. "If anyone should be nervous, it's us. We're the ones imposing on your hospitality and dragging you into our rather chaotic family dynamics."
The younger man stepped forward next, and if Fleamont embodied distinguished elegance, this man represented something more dynamic and immediately engaging. Charlus Potter was clearly in his early fifties, with dark hair that was still rich and vibrant despite distinguished threads of gray at the temples. His eyes were a warmer brown than his older brother's blue, and his smile carried the kind of easy charm that suggested he could make friends with anyone within five minutes of meeting them. Where Fleamont's presence was calming and paternal, Charlus radiated the sort of energy that made you want to go on adventures or at least hear about the ones he'd been on.
"And I'm Charlus Potter—Hadrian's father," he said, extending his hand with the kind of firm grip that spoke of someone comfortable in any social situation, from formal diplomatic functions to village pub conversations. "We've been looking forward to this meeting ever since Minerva told us about your remarkable daughters and their equally remarkable friend."
"The pleasure is entirely ours," Melanie said, appearing at Alex's shoulder with her warmest hostess smile firmly in place despite the butterflies that were currently performing aerial acrobatics in her stomach. "Please, let me introduce our family properly."
She gestured toward the children, who had arranged themselves in the sitting room doorway with the kind of unconscious coordination that came from years of shared experiences and mutual support. They looked like they were posing for a formal portrait, except for the way Lily kept fidgeting with her hair and Severus seemed to be trying to make himself invisible through sheer force of will.
"Our twins, Lily and Natalia Evans," Melanie said, her voice carrying the unmistakable warmth of maternal pride mixed with the slight edge that came from hoping desperately that her children would make good impressions, "and their dear friend Severus Snape."
"The famous Severus Snape," Fleamont said, his blue eyes lighting up with genuine interest as he took in the boy's appearance with the kind of attention that suggested he was seeing someone he'd heard good things about. "Minerva spoke very highly of your theoretical knowledge and your natural aptitude for potions. She seemed quite impressed, which is not an easy feat to accomplish. Minerva's praise is harder to earn than a Goblin's trust."
Severus straightened slightly at the recognition, his dark eyes reflecting surprised pleasure at being acknowledged for his abilities rather than dismissed for his circumstances. It was clear that this sort of intellectual recognition was rare in his experience, and he seemed to grow a few inches taller under the weight of such specific praise.
"Thank you, sir," he replied with careful politeness, though there was something more confident in his voice than usual, as if being recognized for his knowledge had reminded him that he belonged in academic discussions regardless of his social background. "Professor McGonagall was very encouraging about my interests in advanced magical theory. She seemed to think that theoretical understanding could complement practical application in ways that might prove... useful."
"Absolutely correct," Fleamont said approvingly, his expression taking on the kind of enthusiasm that suggested they'd stumbled onto one of his favorite topics. "Far too many young people treat potions as though it's simply a matter of following recipes without understanding the underlying principles. True mastery requires grasping the theoretical framework that makes the practical applications possible."
"And the brilliant Evans twins," Charlus added, his warm brown eyes taking in both girls with equal measure and obvious appreciation. "Minerva tells us you've both shown remarkable magical control for untrained witches, and that your grasp of theoretical concepts is quite exceptional. She mentioned something about intuitive transfiguration theory that had her quite excited."
"She's very kind," Lily said with genuine modesty, her cheeks flushing slightly pink at the praise in a way that made her freckles stand out more prominently.
"She's very accurate," Natalia corrected with characteristic precision, though her voice carried warmth rather than arrogance. "We've been fortunate to have access to excellent magical texts and the opportunity to study together. Though I suspect our theoretical understanding is going to prove rather different from practical application once we get to Hogwarts."
"The theory provides the foundation," Charlus said with obvious approval, clearly pleased by her analytical approach. "But you're absolutely right that practical application often reveals gaps in understanding that pure theory can't address. That's half the fun of magical education—discovering how much you don't know yet."
It was then that his attention was caught by the small creature sitting with perfect poise at Natalia's feet. Charlus's brown eyes widened with genuine surprise and what looked suspiciously like delighted recognition as he took in Laika's unusual appearance with the kind of focused attention that suggested he knew exactly what he was looking at.
"My word," he said, his voice carrying the sort of excitement that came from encountering something genuinely remarkable and unexpected. "Is that...? It can't be... but she certainly has all the characteristics..."
He paused, studying Laika with the intensity of someone who was trying to reconcile what he was seeing with what he knew to be possible. The fox-like creature gazed back at him with calm intelligence, her amber eyes reflecting a kind of ancient wisdom that seemed incongruous with her small size.
"She looks like a Shiba Inu at first glance," Charlus continued slowly, his voice taking on the careful tone of someone working through a complex problem, "but those eyes... that intelligence... the way she positions herself... and there's something about her magical signature..." He paused, his expression growing more certain. "She's a familiar, isn't she? And not just any familiar—she's something quite extraordinary."
"She is," Natalia confirmed, reaching down to scratch behind Laika's ears with obvious affection. The kitsune leaned into the touch with dignified pleasure, though her eyes never left Charlus's face. "This is Laika. She bonded with me shortly after I received my Hogwarts letter."
"Extraordinary," Fleamont breathed, moving closer to examine the creature with the kind of scientific fascination that spoke of extensive knowledge about magical creatures and their bonding patterns. "If I'm not mistaken—and please correct me if I'm wrong—but she appears to be a very young kitsune."
The word seemed to hang in the air like a perfectly struck bell, creating ripples of recognition and amazement that spread through the assembled group.
"Yes, she is!" Lily exclaimed, her voice climbing with excitement as she looked at her sister's familiar with new understanding. "We've been reading about them since the bonding happened. Kitsune familiars are incredibly rare, aren't they? I read that they only bond with witches and wizards who have very specific types of magical signatures."
"They are indeed extremely rare," Charlus confirmed, his voice carrying the kind of academic excitement that suggested he was genuinely thrilled by the discovery. "And they're extraordinarily selective about their human partners. A kitsune familiar bond indicates not just raw magical power, but a particular combination of magical wisdom, emotional maturity, and intellectual precision that's quite uncommon in someone so young."
He paused, exchanging a meaningful look with his brother that seemed to communicate something significant about the implications of what they were witnessing.
"This year's batch of first-years is going to be absolutely fascinating," Fleamont said with the kind of delighted anticipation that suggested he was looking forward to the educational chaos that would inevitably follow. "Natalia, you won't be the only student with an unusual familiar this year."
"I won't?" Natalia asked, her green eyes sharpening with curiosity and what might have been competitive interest. "What do you mean?"
"Indeed not," Charlus said with a grin that was equal parts paternal pride and rueful acknowledgment of the complications that lay ahead. "My son Hadrian celebrated his eleventh birthday on July thirty-first, and on that very day, he bonded with what might be the most remarkable—and potentially problematic—familiar anyone at Hogwarts has seen in living memory."
"More remarkable than a kitsune?" Severus asked, his dark eyes reflecting genuine curiosity mixed with what looked suspiciously like academic competitiveness. "That would have to be quite extraordinary."
"Well," Fleamont said with the kind of diplomatic tone that suggested he was choosing his words very carefully, "remarkable in a rather different way. Hadrian's familiar is a Nundu cub."
The silence that followed was so complete that they could hear the evening birds chirping in the garden and the distant sound of Mrs. Peterson's dog barking three houses down. Even Laika's ears perked up with what looked distinctly like surprise.
"A Nundu," Lily repeated faintly, her voice climbing toward something that might have been hysteria if she weren't working so hard to maintain composure. "As in, one of the most dangerous magical creatures in existence? As in, the kind of creature that according to 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' requires a minimum of a hundred trained wizards working in perfect coordination to subdue when fully grown?"
"The very same," Charlus confirmed with the kind of cheerful equanimity that suggested he was either completely unconcerned by his son's choice of familiar or had already worked through the terror stage and reached acceptance. "Though I should clarify—Aslan is still quite young. Only about the size of a house cat at present, though he's growing at what could generously be described as an alarming rate. Adorable, really, in a potentially catastrophic sort of way."
"Aslan?" Natalia asked, her voice carrying the kind of carefully controlled tone that suggested she was processing information that was both fascinating and terrifying while trying not to let either emotion show too prominently.
"Hadrian named him after the lion from those Muggle children's books," Fleamont explained with obvious fondness, his paternal pride evident despite the circumstances. "Chronicles of Narnia, I believe? Hadrian has always been fond of Muggle literature, much to his mother's bewilderment. She keeps trying to interest him in wizarding classics, but he seems to prefer stories about wardrobes and talking animals."
"But how is that even possible?" Severus asked, his scholarly mind clearly struggling to process the implications of what he was hearing. "Nundu are apex predators. They're solitary creatures that don't form social bonds with anything, let alone humans. Their magical signature should be fundamentally incompatible with human magic—the resonance frequencies alone should make bonding impossible."
"Normally, yes," Charlus agreed with the kind of academic enthusiasm that suggested this had become his favorite topic of conversation over the past few weeks. "Which is precisely why we have Newton Scamander documenting the entire process. He's been absolutely fascinated by the bond from a purely research perspective, and he'll be joining us for dinner tonight specifically to observe the interaction between Hadrian and Aslan."
He paused, his brown eyes lighting up with anticipation as he looked between Natalia and her kitsune familiar.
"I suspect he'll be equally fascinated by you and Laika," he continued with obvious enthusiasm. "Two unprecedented familiar bonds in the same year? At the same school? Newt is convinced there's some deeper magical significance at work. He's been practically vibrating with excitement since we told him about tonight's gathering. I've never seen him take so many notes outside of his natural habitat research."
"Newton Scamander," Melanie repeated, her voice carrying the kind of awed recognition that came from someone who'd been doing extensive research into famous figures in the magical world. "The author of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'? The magizoologist who's discovered more magical species than anyone in the past century? He's going to be there tonight?"
"Indeed," Fleamont confirmed with obvious pleasure at her recognition. "Newt is an old family friend—we went to school together, actually, though he was a year ahead of me. He's been invaluable in helping us understand Hadrian's bond with Aslan, though I suspect tonight he'll be more interested in comparative familiar bond analysis than dinner conversation."
"This is incredible," Lily breathed, her earlier nervousness completely replaced by genuine excitement that made her bounce slightly on her toes. "A kitsune and a Nundu, both bonding with first-year students in the same summer? What are the odds of that happening by pure coincidence?"
"Astronomically small," Severus replied with characteristic precision, his dark eyes reflecting the kind of analytical thinking that had impressed McGonagall during their first meeting. "Which strongly suggests it's not a coincidence at all. There must be some underlying magical factor that's drawing these powerful creatures to bond with witches and wizards our age."
"Exactly what Newt suspects," Charlus said approvingly, clearly pleased by the boy's reasoning and analytical approach. "He has several theories about convergent magical events and the way powerful magical signatures can create what he calls 'bonding cascades' that attract unusual familiars to particularly gifted young witches and wizards."
"Bonding cascades?" Natalia asked, her eyebrows rising with interest. "That sounds like it involves some fairly complex magical theory."
"It does indeed," Fleamont said with obvious enthusiasm. "The basic principle is that certain types of magical signatures can create resonance patterns that attract compatible magical creatures from considerable distances. But the mechanics of how it works—the way the magical frequencies align and amplify each other—that's still largely theoretical."
"Speaking of theory," Charlus interjected, his attention focusing on Severus with the kind of professional interest that suggested he'd been waiting for this opportunity, "Minerva mentioned that you have a natural aptitude for potionwork?"
"I do, sir," Severus replied, straightening slightly with the kind of pride that he couldn't quite hide despite his usual reticence. "I've been studying advanced theory whenever possible and practicing basic techniques with whatever ingredients I can acquire safely."
"Excellent!" Fleamont's face lit up with the sort of enthusiasm that made him look decades younger and suggested they'd just stumbled onto his absolute favorite topic of conversation. "It's always wonderful to meet young minds with a genuine interest in the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. Far too many students these days approach it as nothing more than cookbook following rather than understanding it as the complex magical discipline it truly is."
"That's exactly what I don't understand about it," Lily said, leaning forward with genuine curiosity and the kind of engaged attention that had always characterized her approach to learning. "How is it different from following a recipe? I mean, you add specific ingredients in specific quantities at specific times under specific conditions, just like cooking. What makes it magical rather than just... advanced chemistry?"
Fleamont's eyes absolutely sparkled with delight at the question, and it was immediately clear that this was a man who could discuss his favorite subject for hours without even beginning to get bored.
"Ah, Miss Evans, that's precisely the question that separates true potioneers from mere ingredient-mixers," he said with obvious pleasure, his cultured voice taking on the slightly lecturing tone of someone who genuinely loved to teach. "You see, potions work because of the complex interaction between the inherent magical properties of the ingredients and the magical signature of the person brewing them. It's not just chemistry—it's magical chemistry, which means the brewer's intent, emotional state, magical control, and theoretical understanding all affect the final result in ways that purely physical science cannot account for."
"So the same recipe could produce different results depending on who's making it?" Severus asked, his voice carrying the kind of intellectual excitement that came from encountering a concept that made perfect sense while simultaneously opening up entirely new areas of understanding.
"Precisely!" Fleamont said, clearly delighted to have such an engaged and intellectually curious audience. "A calming draught brewed by someone who genuinely understands the principles of emotional equilibrium and approaches the process with genuine serenity will be significantly more effective than one brewed by someone who's agitated or impatient, even if they follow the exact same steps with identical ingredients."
"That's fascinating," Lily said, her brown eyes bright with newfound understanding and the kind of intellectual excitement that came from having a confusing concept suddenly click into place. "So it's like... like the difference between playing music technically correctly and playing it with real feeling and understanding of what the composer was trying to express?"
"A perfect analogy," Fleamont said with obvious approval, his expression taking on the satisfied look of a teacher whose student had just demonstrated genuine comprehension. "Technical skill will get you a functional result, but true mastery requires understanding the deeper principles at work and being able to channel your magical intent through the brewing process."
"Which is why I'm always delighted to meet young people who approach potions with genuine intellectual curiosity rather than just trying to memorize steps and hope for the best," he continued, his gaze moving between Severus and the twins with obvious satisfaction.
He paused, his expression taking on a slightly rueful note that suggested he was about to share a common parental frustration.
"I do wish my son James showed half as much interest in the family craft," he continued with the kind of fond exasperation that came from loving someone whose interests lay elsewhere. "He's certainly got the magical ability for it, and his theoretical understanding is quite solid when he bothers to apply himself, but he finds the precision and patience required to be rather... tedious. He much prefers Transfiguration and Charms—subjects that allow for more immediate and dramatic results."
"Different people have different magical strengths and interests," Severus said diplomatically, though there was something in his voice that suggested he couldn't quite understand anyone finding potions tedious when they represented such an elegant fusion of art and science.
"Very true," Fleamont agreed warmly, his tone carrying the kind of paternal acceptance that came from years of acknowledging that children don't always share their parents' passions. "And I'm pleased to say that at least the Potter family tradition of excellence in potionwork will continue through the next generation. My nephew Hadrian has shown quite remarkable instincts for both potion theory and practical application."
His expression grew more serious, though his enthusiasm remained undiminished as he continued.
"Just last week, he came to me with a theoretical framework that could potentially revolutionize how we approach one of the most challenging problems in magical medicine," he said, his voice carrying the kind of reverence that came from recognizing truly groundbreaking work.
"What kind of framework?" Natalia asked, her green eyes sharpening with curiosity and the kind of analytical interest that suggested she was filing away information for future reference and detailed consideration.
Fleamont's expression grew even more serious, though his pride in his nephew remained evident in every word.
"He's been developing theoretical approaches to creating a potion that could help werewolves maintain their human consciousness during the full moon transformation," he said, his voice carrying the weight of someone discussing work that could change lives. "The theoretical framework he's outlined combines lunar cycle timing with consciousness-preservation techniques and transformation-stabilizing compounds in ways that no one has attempted before."
"That's incredible," Lily breathed, her voice reflecting genuine awe and the kind of admiration that came from recognizing the humanitarian implications of such work. "A potion like that could completely change the quality of life for people suffering from lycanthropy."
"Indeed it could," Fleamont agreed, his paternal pride evident in every syllable. "Of course, it's still purely theoretical at this stage—the practical applications will require years of careful research, testing, and refinement. But the fundamental concepts he's outlined are theoretically sound, and the potential applications are absolutely extraordinary."
"An eleven-year-old developed a theoretical framework for helping werewolves?" Severus asked, his voice carrying a mixture of genuinely impressed admiration and what might have been competitive curiosity about what other remarkable minds he'd be studying alongside.
"Hadrian has always been an exceptional child," Charlus said with obvious paternal pride, though his voice carried an undertone that suggested his son's exceptional nature came with its own unique complications and responsibilities. "Sometimes I think he approaches magical theory the way other children approach adventure stories—as something endlessly fascinating to explore rather than something difficult to master."
"That's actually quite a healthy approach to learning," Alex observed with the kind of professional interest that came from years of teaching literature to undergraduates. "The best students are usually the ones who maintain that sense of wonder and curiosity rather than treating education as a series of obstacles to overcome."
"Well," he continued, clapping his hands together with the kind of decisive energy that suggested he was ready to move the evening forward into its next phase, "it sounds like we're going to have an absolutely fascinating dinner conversation ahead of us. Should we be heading off to meet these remarkable children and their equally remarkable familiars?"
"Absolutely," Fleamont said, checking an elegant pocket watch that looked like it had been in the Potter family for several generations. "The others will be arriving at Potter Manor shortly, and I suspect punctuality will be appreciated by all involved—Newt gets rather focused when he's in research mode, and it's best not to keep him waiting when he's expecting to meet new subjects of study."
As the group prepared to leave, making final adjustments to clothing and gathering necessary items, Melanie paused to cast one last look toward the stairs. Her maternal instincts were clearly struggling with leaving Petunia behind, even though they all understood it was the only reasonable decision under the circumstances.
"She'll be fine," Alex said quietly, placing a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder with the kind of gentle understanding that came from fifteen years of marriage and countless parenting decisions. "Helen's parents are lovely people, and a sleepover with her friends is probably exactly what she needs tonight."
"I know," Melanie replied softly, though her voice carried the weight of maternal guilt that came from feeling like she was constantly having to choose between her children's different needs. "It's just... it feels wrong, leaving her out of something this important."
"It would feel worse bringing her into something that would make her uncomfortable and resentful," Natalia said gently, displaying the kind of emotional wisdom that seemed too old for her eleven years. "There are no good choices here, Mum. Only necessary ones that we have to hope will work out for the best."
With that sobering reminder of the complexities they were navigating, the group made their way outside into the warm August evening. The suburban street looked peaceful and utterly ordinary, with the kind of domestic tranquility that belonged to lawn mowers and garden parties rather than magical creatures and impossible familiar bonds.
"Now then," Charlus said once they'd reached a sufficiently isolated area between streetlights, his voice taking on the kind of practical tone that suggested they were about to transition from the ordinary world into something far more extraordinary, "I should warn you that Apparition can be somewhat... unsettling for those who haven't experienced magical transportation before."
"Unsettling in what way, exactly?" Alex asked, his voice carrying the kind of curiosity mixed with apprehension that came from knowing he was about to experience something completely outside his normal range of experiences, regardless of how much reading he'd done.
"Think of it as magical teleportation," Fleamont explained kindly, clearly recognizing the need for gentle preparation. "There's a sensation of compression, followed by rapid movement, followed by rather sudden arrival. Some people find it disorienting, but it's perfectly safe."
"The key is to hold on tightly and try not to think too hard about the impossibility of what's happening," Charlus added with a grin that suggested he remembered his own first Apparition experience with a mixture of fondness and horror.
"Wonderful," Melanie muttered, though she was smiling despite her obvious nervousness. "Magical teleportation. Of course. Why would we travel anywhere normally when we could experience impossible physics instead?"
"Think of it as the ultimate adventure," Lily said encouragingly, though her own voice carried a note of excitement mixed with apprehension.
"Ready?" Fleamont asked, extending his arm toward Melanie and Alex with the kind of courtesy that suggested this was a practiced routine.
"As ready as one can be for defying the fundamental laws of physics," Alex replied with the kind of determined humor that had served him well through fifteen years of marriage and three daughters.
With a sound like the world's largest rubber band snapping combined with a vacuum cleaner imploding, they Disapparated from Magnolia Crescent, leaving behind the ordinary suburban evening for whatever extraordinary adventures awaited them at Potter Manor.
The last thing any of their neighbors might have noticed—if they'd been looking, which the Muggle-repelling charms ensured they weren't—was the faint scent of magic lingering in the air, sweet and ozone-sharp, like the smell of possibility made manifest.
Potter Manor awaited, with all its promises of new friendships, unprecedented familiar bonds, and the kind of magical education that would shape the rest of their lives.
Some evenings, after all, were destined to change everything.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!