The balcony brimmed with the vibrant chatter of Tristan's siblings bantering with Gabby over a game of Exploding Snap; with each cardhouse that exploded in a puff of thick smoke, their cheers rang out across the calm waters of the lake like the shadows of the manor's slate roofs, turrets and chimneys stretching out into the dusk.
Tristan's mother shared quiet laughter and conversation with Appoline by the confetti-sprinkled table in the soft warmth of the setting sun, watching his siblings squabble with a small, fond smile gracing her lips. His father and Philippe chatted by the grill, working through their second bottle of French wine as they maneuvered the sticks of meats and vegetables roasting over the coals sizzling in the Muggle barbecue grill.
"Thank you, Fleur." Tristan rested against the railing and admired the enchanted balloons shifting through all colors of the rainbow as they floated high above the balcony and out over the shores.
Fleur followed his line of sight. "For the balloons, mon Coeur?"
"No." He drew her close with one arm around the slender waist of her navy-blue skirt. "I mean for all of this."
She rested her head on his shoulder in a faint wash of sweet vanilla fragrance and threaded their fingers together over her chest. "Mes parents did not need much convincing to attend. Gabrielle was not the only one excited to meet my future husband's family."
A soft warmth filled Tristan's heart, embracing it and lifting it in gentle, cupped hands. "Husband." He tried the word on his tongue. "Husband and wife; I like the sound of that."
"Moi aussi." Fleur twisted in his embrace and pressed a long, soft kiss to his lips. "I cannot wait to finally marry you, mon Coeur; to become yours completely, and for you to become mine."
"Soon," Tristan murmured and held her close, breathing in her scent. 'But how soon?' A little chill trickled through him. 'Trelawney's prophecy says it ends today, with July dying on Father's birthday.' His gaze swept over his laughing family. 'Nothing's going to happen here; I will make sure of it.'
An Exploding Snap card folded into an aeroplane bumped against his head.
"Hey, you two lovebirds!" Valeria hollered. "Get a room if you're getting handsy."
Giggles rang from the children's table.
"Valeria," their mother chided. "Do not be crass in front of our guests, please."
"I'm trying, but some of us still plan on having dessert."
Their mother rolled her eyes. "Please excuse my daughter's manners; she must have forgotten them in the lake during today's swim."
Appoline chuckled. "I doubt she can come up with a joke Philippe and I have not heard yet. Gabrielle teases Tristan and Fleur, too; I am rather surprised she has not embarrassed us yet tonight."
Gabby grinned over the top of her cards. "Just waiting for the right moment, maman."
Tristan's mother finished her drink with a small sip. "I shall find comfort in the knowledge that they cannot keep their hands off each other in your home, too." She levelled Tristan with a pointed look. "Last year about this time, Harry and I found them fooling around by the lakeshore for anyone to wander into."
A touch of heat crept up Tristan's cheeks. "Mother, could you not?"
She rose from the table in one smooth motion. "It seems we have been caught in the act, Appoline; let us continue our gossip inside whilst preparing dessert."
"A splendid idea, Marlene," Appoline agreed with a sly smile.
Dobby bustled past the tables. "Mistress should stay outside and let Dobby prepare dessert."
"No, it is quite alright, Dobby." Tristan's mother said. "You go and check if our husbands are sober enough to operate that grill. Luckily it is not gas."
'They really want to be among themselves, huh?' Tristan watched his mother link arms with Appoline and drift across the balcony inside the manor.
"Hah!" Aurelia cheered, slapping her last card onto the table. "I win!"
The stack exploded in her face in a puff of black smoke.
"No fair!" she wailed, twisting on her seat. "Fleeuuurrr—" Aurelia turned her huge pout up "—will you come help me, pleaseee?"
"Bien sûr." Fleur took Tristan's hand with a soft peal of laughter and ushered him onto the empty chair, slipping sideways into his lap, one arm around his neck. "But I have never played this game before."
Aurelia beamed. "I can teach you." She bounced on her seat in excitement as Galahad dealt a new hand of cards, then her eyes caught on the slim band of silver on Fleur's finger. "Aww, can I see your ring, pleaaase?" She pouted. "Tristan wouldn't let me."
"For good reasons, little lady." He chuckled. "You tend to misplace things."
Fleur slid the ring off. "Just be careful with it."
Aurelia accepted the ring in her small, cupped hands and stared at it with wide blue eyes. "It's so pretty." She cocked her head and plowed her lower lip. "Wait… so you've already gotten married without me?"
"Non," Fleur murmured, retrieving the ring and sliding it back on. "The rings just mean we promised ourselves to each other; we will marry each other soon."
"And I'll be your flower girl!" Aurelia declared. "All the flowers will be white and blue, and maybe some red ones."
She clapped her hands, beaming from ear to ear, and Tristan saw her in his mind's eye, dancing through woven arches of yew with that same huge grin, but the rose petals she tossed from her little basket were as bright a crimson as the blood pouring from her split lips.
The green hedges around her withered to dust as North Dawn Manor burst into flames, crumbling into a heap of blackened rubble and smoking ashes.
"And then, after you're married—" Aurelia's voice yanked him back onto the balcony "—are you going to make a baby so I can be an aunt?"
Galahad stopped dealing cards as the children's table fell silent.
The barest tinge of pink rose on Fleur's fair cheeks.
"You probably won't be an aunt for a few more years, Auri," Valeria managed between a fit of giggles. "You're still a little young, no?"
Aurelia crossed her arms with a huge scowl. "I'll be seven soon! That's old enough to watch after a baby." She tugged the sleeve of Fleur's blouse. "Can you make a baby girl, please?" She wrinkled her small, cute nose. "I'd rather have a niece than a nephew."
"Don't worry about that." Gabby giggled. "Fleur and I are Veela; we only make cute, blonde girls like yourself but with silver hair."
"Good." Aurelia bobbed her head with a serious face. "Boys are silly."
Fleur's warm fingers tightened about Tristan's hand. "Do not listen to my sister; Veela give birth to boys, too." She rose from his lap, smoothed down her dark skirt, and flicked her braided hair over her shoulder. "Play a round without us; we will get some more drinks."
She led him inside.
"Hey—" Tristan squeezed her hand as they reached the main staircase "—you alright?"
Fleur lingered on the step and chewed the soft rose-pink of her lower lip. "Gabrielle was only making stupid jokes about Veela not having boys—" something hesitant coloured her voice "—you know that, non?"
"Was she, though?" He quirked an eyebrow. "That book on Veela you recommended said you're more likely to give birth to girls, but occasionally to boys too; the boys just won't have any of the Veela traits."
Fleur's lips curved, but that tension remained in her slim shoulders. "I am surprised you continued reading anything that came after the ridiculous nude drawings."
Tristan chuckled as he drew into his arms. "Oh, believe me, none of those drawings even come close to the real deal." The knut dropped in that wary gleam shining in her soft blue eyes. "Wait, is Gabby's joke why you're upset?" He sighed. "Fleur, I don't care if—"
"Do not say you do not care, mon Coeur." Fleur's piercing gaze bored into him. "Would you not like to raise a son one day?"
He hunted for the right words. "Well, yeah, having a son would be great and all, but I wouldn't mind having a girl." Tristan cupped her jaw in both hands and pressed his mouth to the small pout hovering on her lips. "Look, any baby of ours — boy or girl — will be nothing short of perfect."
Fleur melted into his touch, clinging to him with a small, shy noise. "Merci, mon Coeur. I cannot promise it, but... I would not mind having more than one child, so eventually… chances are we will have a baby boy, too."
Beyond closed eyelids, Tristan saw her on those wide green fields before their little cabin, smiling and laughing in her blue dress amidst all those blossoming flowers. Small children stomped through the grass and chased about Fleur's legs; among them were beaming girls trailing crowns of silver-blonde braids and cheeky raven-haired boys giggling in the summer sun.
A flare of longing rose in Tristan's heart. "I wouldn't mind having a few, either." He caught her lips in a long, slow touch of tongues and let his hands drift down, over the side of her breasts to linger on the curve of her hips. "Not at all actually," Tristan whispered, giving her butt a gentle squeeze over skirt.
"Later, mon Coeur." Fleur broke the kiss and patted his chest with a small smirk. "Let us get the drinks and spend some time with our families first."
Faint laughter sounded from the kitchen as they approached.
"Thank you again for the invitation, Marlene," Appoline said. "I have been looking forward to finally getting to know Tristan's family, and to be honest with you — after tonight, I wish we had met much sooner."
"I wholeheartedly agree." His mother replied, letting a beat of silence stretch. "Although, given our children's impending union, it would be rather dishonest if I did not admit that I initially had my reservations about Fleur."
Tristan caught Fleur's eyes and tiptoed closer to the door. 'Let's hear why Mother insisted on talking downstairs.'
Appoline hummed. "I doubt it was because she is from France, was it?"
"You would be right. However, I have come to know Fleur since then, and I sincerely regret any prejudices I had against your kind."
"What changed your mind?"
"She saved Valeria's life in that ridiculous tournament two years ago. She also saved Tristan's life. In more ways than one..."
"How so?"
Several long beats of silence passed in the kitchen.
"Harry and I knew that Tristan's time at Hogwarts would be challenging given how deeply the hostility against our family still runs in Britain," Tristan's mother said. "What we did not expect was for him to be sorted into Slytherin, the very House that harbors many members of those families who supported Voldemort in his rise to power. I hardly recognized the boy I picked back up at King's Cross station after his first year, and each year it only got worse still."
Appoline hummed. "Children can be very cruel. My daughter, too, changed a lot at Beauxbatons, especially after her third year when she went through puberty." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Fleur's magic grew stronger than even the oldest of my kind have ever seen in a Veela; she left trails of drooling boys and jealous girls wherever she went. Philippe and I tried everything we could, we even offered to ward off her allure, but Fleur would not have it."
"She seems very adamant about anything that interferes with her magic, even the use of certain very handy potions." A touch of frustration lingered in his mother's reply. "But Fleur promised me to be careful, and I trust her. I am just glad they found each other; I suspect Tristan never has made a true friend at school, and for a long time, I doubted he would ever find the kind of connection I have found with Harry. No mother should badmouth her son, but I know mine never felt genuine affection for the girls he dated before he met Fleur."
"Bien," Fleur's warm breath ghosted across Tristan's skin. "You were always meant to be mine."
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and pressed a finger to his lips.
"They are very much in love, non?" Appoline let out a low chuckle. "The way Tristan looks at Fleur... like he would take on the whole world for her."
"Yes," his mother murmured. "Although he would probably burn it, too."
Appoline's laughter drifted closer. "I'm afraid fire is a Veela's forte already; perhaps we should go back upstairs and make sure my daughters have not abused their gifts."
Tristan snatched Fleur by the arm, slipping back into the entrance hall and out through the main door as their mothers' footsteps padded back up the staircase.
He sat down on the steps with a snort. "Well, they really continued their gossip about us, but at least they get on well."
Fleur flattened her skirt down and crossed her legs as she sat next to him. "Oui. Maybe they will even become friends; I know maman would like that."
"Your parents didn't seem to have a shortage of friends from what I remember from the Beltane Ball."
She wrinkled her nose. "Those were not friends but acquaintances or Papa's political allies. It is très difficult for mes parents to make friends with other couples; a few drinks in, and even married men start lusting after Maman."
"And their wives get all jealous about it." Tristan chuckled, pressing a kiss to Fleur's cheek. "I don't think Father'll be tempted by a Veela anytime soon. I'm the only one susceptible to your vicious seduction. Well, maybe Galahad, too, once he starts noticing girls."
Fleur rolled her eyes at him. "If I had actually tried to seduce you, I would have had you wrapped around my little finger the day our carriage arrived at Hogwarts. As for your little brother—"
Silver flashed in the distance where the sun kissed the horizon.
Tristan squinted, catching it glimmer still by the tall iron gate leading onto the estate. "Did one of your balloons get lost by any chance?"
Fleur shielded her brow with one fair arm. "Non, mine are charmed to stay close to the manor and lake."
Suspicion gnawed at him. "Let's check what it is then." Tristan took her hand and wrenched the world back past to the edge of the estate.
An ethereal wolf prowled along the edge of the ward-line, scattering little scraps of silver magic into the dusk with each flick of his tail.
"Do you know anyone with that patronus?" Fleur asked.
"No." Tristan scanned the empty plains beyond the wolf and drew his wand. "But I think I know who sent it."
They stepped through the wards.
"Happy Birthday, Harry." Teddy's voice rose from the patronus, soft and dark as water beneath ice. "I'm afraid James and Lily won't join your party tonight, but you know where to find them."
The wolf wilted into thin smoke like morning mist before the sun.
Iron-clad certainty seized hold of Tristan. "This is it. Tonight, it will end."
"It smells like a trap, mon Coeur," Fleur said. "We should floo to the Potters' manor and check if they have truly been abducted."
"I don't care if it's a trap; Teddy and anyone working with him will be there." He clenched his fingers about his wand; a faint whisper of cold, ink black magic seeped off his wrist and spread along the pale length of elder, swirling faster and faster to the quickening drum of his heart. 'I can finally wipe them all away.'
"Should we alert our parents?"
Tristan glanced up over his shoulder at the color-shifting balloons floating into the dusk and the flickering shadows on the illuminated balcony beneath, listening to the faint, distant, carefree laughter of his family.
"No." He decided. "They'll only be in the way and might get hurt." He flicked his wand at the manor. "Accio."
In a faint chime of the breeze, the Invisibility Cloak slapped into his palm. "I'd rather go alone and have them stay here to protect my siblings."
Warm fingers tilted his head back around. "You will not be alone, mon Coeur." Fleur stared up at him with an unwavering gleam in her bright blue eyes. "Tu m'as promis."
Tristan studied her resolute expression as he crammed the Cloak into his back pocket. 'I did promise I'd never leave her behind again after going alone to break Neville out.' He smothered the dread and crushed all images of blood-stained lips and dull, empty blue eyes from his thoughts. "Let's go then."
The green fields lurched into chewing gum-stained pavement.
They crammed themselves inside the lopsided red phone box, jabbing at the dials and descending into the dark until the sidewalk slid up past the smudged window and the doors swung back open.
A figure in crimson robes dangled spreadeagled from the statue of the wizard overlooking the atrium. Blood trickling from the words carved into their forehead, dribbling down their slumped chin and staining the clear water spurting from the golden wand tip piercing their chest to a thin dark stream rushing into the fountain beneath.
Fleur joined his side in a quiet step. "Imperio." She read the words off the flayed skin with a small frown. "Do you know them?"
"It's a British Auror; Dawlish," Tristan murmured, following Dawlish's outstretched arm pointing toward the elevators. "I used the Imperius on him to break out Neville." He pressed the button for the Department of Mysteries. "Teddy seemed to have taken offense at that."
The lift plunged with a great screech of metal.
Fleur's knuckles whitened about her rosewood wand. "This is definitely a trap, mon Coeur."
"I don't care," he replied, tasting the truth of the words as the adrenaline began whispering through his veins, honing his senses. "I will not be stopped."
'I'm going to wipe them all away now.'
The lift doors rattled open.
Two corridors, walled and tiled in smooth black stone, branched off into opposite directions; torches cast eerie shadows onto the familiar stout wooden doors lining the left one, and the right one plunged into complete darkness.
"This way." Tristan turned right into the cool, dim passageway, picking his way across the black slabs reflecting the faint light of the torches like glass; the thrill coursed through him as he spun his wand through his fingers, goading his heart into hammering so loud he heard it alongside the echo of their footsteps.
The corridor opened into a wide circular room built from black stone polished smooth as water and lined with handle-less black doors, each marked by a fiery cross at the centre.
"Is this it?" Fleur whispered. "The room you saw in the minds of the Unspeakable and the Malfoy boy?"
"Yes." He glanced about. "Though the doors weren't marked then."
"This one is not." She pointed her wand at an unmarked door to their left. "Do you know what the cross means?"
"No, probably just some stupid innuendo between Father and Teddy," Tristan murmured. "Let's give it a try." He seized the handle and pushed it open, stepping over the threshold.
The chamber that lay beyond was tall and so dark he couldn't see the opposite side, grander than the Great Hall or the Chamber of Secrets. Beneath row upon row of worn, weathered, ancient stone benches, a dome of gold shrouded the single arch of rock standing upon the raised dais. Four figures lay sprawled surrounding the two pillars, and a fifth blue-haired, dark-robed figure stood before the veil of magic shimmering like heat haze in between.
'Teddy.' Tristan leapt down the steps and took aim. "Avada Kedavra!"
Emerald light flashed across the rows but dispersed in the dome of gold, doused out like a candle in the dark.
Three glowing ribbons of amber magic rose from the base of the platform, curling up about the two pillars and winding back down again in never-ending spirals.
Teddy turned on his heel. "Tristan and Fleur." Soft sorrow rose in his gray eyes. "I expected Harry and Marlene, but we've already agreed that you'll do just as fine, haven't we?"
Tristan wrapped the air about himself and Fleur, lifting them up onto the dais.
"I'll do just fine, yeah." He let that slim flare of hatred swell in his heart and swept his wand up, pouring a torrent of screaming, cherry tongues of flames against the dome. 'I'll do just fine, wiping you away for good.'
The fiendfyre washed back at him with a furious roar.
Fleur parted the flames to either side with a slash of her wand, snuffing them out.
Teddy shook his head. "Such dangerous magic, Tristan; it gives the impression you're not here for the Potters..."
"I can be here for more than one reason." Tristan stepped closer.
A strange, soft, low murmur rose from within the arch, as if hundreds whispered to him just beyond, and tiny grains of gold swirled in the spiralling amber ribbons. 'This looks almost like sand, but what's it for?'
He touched the tip of his wand to the edge of the golden dome, feeding a little magic into it; brutal, unwielding wards crushed his intent like ice and threw his magic back at him.
'No magic, fine.'
Tristan walked around the dome until Teddy's form vanished behind the veil and prodded it with his index finger, yanking his arm back with a wince as the skin burned and blistered as if dipped in acid.
'Fuck.' Frustration bubbled up within him. 'Whatever this is, the Musketeers have been working on it for some time.'
"Can you figure out how to get in?" he whispered to Fleur. "We need to destroy the arch so he can't use it for his ritual."
"Already on it, mon Coeur." She took a knee on the carpet of tiny runes etched into every inch of stone stretching from the two pillars up the summit in a dizzying swirl of patterns.
'I need to give her some time.' Tristan studied the still forms of James, Lily, Magnolia and Charlus, their limbs sprawled out like stars around the veil, and caught the steady rise of their chests. "Why haven't you killed them yet?"
Teddy stepped out from behind the pillar. "Because I wanted Harry to witness it. This veil has been used for execution since the dawn of time, hence the many benches. Although other, more esoteric documents claim it to be a gateway to the afterlife, which would also be rather fitting given what I intend. The only thing all records share is that none who passed through it ever returned."
"I'll check for myself by throwing you through it then," Tristan muttered, glancing back at Fleur. "Anything yet?"
"I... I cannot get us in, mon Coeur. No magic can pass through the dome," she murmured, eyes closed and blonde brows drawn into a sharp vee. "There... there are no loopholes."
"There is one." Tristan fished the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket, fingers fisting in the cool, smooth fabric. "Death."
Teddy's cold laughter rang back from the benches. "Good luck with that. We always knew of your father's cloak; it will not help you."
Tristan slipped into it and put his left foot through the dome.
Lances of searing pain stabbed through him as if his skin were made of wax and melted in blazing heat. Wisps of dark cloth bled from where the cloak fluttered about his leg, then burst into flames, eating deep into the fabric until they licked at Tristan's raw skin.
Teddy's gray eyes sharpened to blank steel. "No. No!" He snatched a slim jew-hilted dagger from within his robes and sliced it across his palm, sprinkling droplets of crimson onto a patch of runes. "We will not be stopped!"
Tristan took another step with his right leg and stumbled into the dome, tearing the cloak off his shoulders. "Looks like Father never told you the full story of it." He squashed the little tongues of dark flame beneath his heel. 'Hopefully it can be fixed.'
"You're too late." Teddy's sneer was full of triumph. "Tonight, this false world crumbles."
A surge of magic rippled across the dais, leaving it trembling.
All three amber ribbons of flowing sand bent into one another, fusing into a single cord of pure golden light; it shone bright as the sun, spinning faster and faster about the arch's summit like an hourglass about its axis.
James's body rose in a faint amber glow, floating toward the flickering veil.
Tristan trained his wand at him, but the piece of elder remained still and cool in his grip.
'Alright then… wandless maybe?' He thrust out his palm, tugging James to the ground, and rolled Lily on top of him with his foot. 'Hopefully this works.'
Teddy charged with a growl.
Tristan dodged a wild slash of the knife and kicked Teddy's legs out from underneath him, sending him smacking into the pillar. He summoned the knife into his hand, grabbed Teddy by the collar, and stabbed, but Teddy deflected the blade off his arm and hammered his forehead into Tristan's face.
White-hot pain exploded through his nose. Tristan staggered as a fist connected to his jaw.
He threw himself forward, knocking Teddy to the ground and straddling him.
"This... is... for... my... baby... sister." Tristan paired each word with a punch, hammering both his knuckles into Teddy's face until blood spurted from his nose and lips, and his jaw broke with a dull crunch.
"Tristan!" Fleur's call had him glance up, panting hard.
James' body floated out from beneath Lily's towards the veil.
Tristan yanked him back, keeping him on the ground with one foot. "We need to stop this thing!"
"We could try to—" she fell silent, staring over his shoulder.
Shadows rose from the benches, more than a dozen black-robed figures in deep hoods, their wands drawn.
'Fuck.' Unease welled up, churning Tristan's stomach. 'I've seen those before.'
Four of them strode down the stairs, sweeping their hoods back.
"Look what we have here." Abraxas Malfoy's smirk was cold and cruel in the dim light of his wandtip. "Peverell and his little bird, both at our mercy."
"I always knew it was you who sent those assassins after me in the second task." Tristan spat, wiping the blood off his knuckles on his shirt. "I killed the two back then, and I'll kill the ones you brought with you now, too."
"No, Peverell, you'll stay nice and put and watch from in there." Malfoy pointed his wand at Fleur. "Take the Veela alive. I've been dying to have some fun with her."
The chamber lit up in a wash of red beams.
"Hold them off, Fleur!" Tristan shouted, smothering a stab of panic. "Just hold them off for a bit!"
He dragged the Potters to the edge of the dome and piled them all up on top of each other, watching in the corner of his eye as Fleur weaved through the onslaught of spells; the two piercing curses she sent hissing back punched through the chest and stomach of the nearest assailant in a spray of crimson.
James and Lily rose in an eerie golden glow of magic, slipping out from beneath their children's bodies.
Tristan caught them by the arm and dug his heels into the stone, but the veil kept tugging with ruthless force, dragging him across the dais.
James' and Lily's eyes jerked wide open, filled with terror, yet their lips moved without sound.
"It's okay," Tristan assured. "I'll get you out all of here."
Fleur's cry tore through the shouts of incantation; she staggered, clutching her side, then twisted on her heel and bathed a section of the benches in a flurry of fiendfyre, leaving nothing but molten, dripping black stone, floating ashes, and the stench of scorched flesh.
A hail of spells rained down on her.
Fleur slapped some back with deft flicks of her wand, retreating to the edge of the dome. "Mon Coeur!" She winced, covering behind a shield of bright white magic. "I need help! S'il te plaît."
"I know, I've almost got it." He glanced around, scouring his mind for an idea. "Just a little longer, Fleur!"
With a sharp jerk, James and Lily lurched from his grip, soaring towards the arch alongside Magnolia and Charlus.
"No!" Tristan thrust out both palms, catching the four just before the flickering veil and towing them back through the air inch by inch.
Droplets of sweat clung to the tip of his nose and chin. Fatigue began to bite, settling deep in his muscles, and cold panic lanced through his heart as a killing curse shattered Fleur's shield like glass, sending her stumbling.
"Tristan." Her pleading blue eyes met him from outside the dome. "Tristan, please."
Teddy's gurgling laughter drowned the whisper of the veil. "What's it going to be, Tristan Peverell? You cannot save them all. Will you really choose her over your own grandparents?"
James and Lily's eyes widened; understanding dawned in the emerald green pair, the ones he knew from his father and Valeria, but the hazel ones brimmed with something raw.
'It's no choice really.' The hardening of his heart came almost easily as he stared at the slim silver ring on his finger.
"Yes." Tristan let them go. "I would burn the world for her."
The Potters vanished through the spinning cord of gold into the veil.
Summoning the steaming, tattered Invisibility Cloak off the ground, Tristan felt no pain as he passed through the dome, nor when he seized Fleur on one white-feathered, scalding hot arm and tugged her behind himself.
All the panic was thrashed by the blazing fury burning bright and hot as hell within him. Rage shrouded him in wisps of ink black magic; it oozed from his wrists thick as tar, trailing him like a cape of darkness and sizzling in the slim cracks snaking through the tiles beneath his feet.
Spellfire lit up the dais as Malfoy, Crouch, the Lestranges, and six more assassins stormed the platform.
Tristan funneled all curses back at the left-most cloaked figure, his wand arm a dark blur as he went through the motions, watching his opponent cave in screams of agony to the hail of cutting and piercing hexes.
Two faceless assailants stormed the platform.
Tristan slashed his wand and flung them back down into the benches, grinding them down into a tangle of twisted limbs, shattered pale bones, and blueish-purple entrails.
Deflecting Malfoy's and Crouch's hexes back at them, Tristan thrust out his hand at another assassin and closed his fingers into a fist; their ribcage and skull cracked like eggshells, showering the dais in chunks of crimson gore.
Fleur twirled past him, bathed in the soft silver halo of her magic uncurling from her like petals of a flower. She danced through curses and separated the Lestrange twins from the rest.
"Fuck this!" Brutus fumed, baring his teeth. "There's plenty of other Veela Abraxas can have his fun with; I'm going to bloody kill this one. Avada Kedavra!"
The beam of emerald flashed past Fleur's billowing blonde braids as she bent backward, hands touching the ground; she bounced back up like a charged spring, severing Brutus' head with a whip of azure flame.
"You fucking French whore! Crucio! Crucio!" Diana screamed. "I'll cut you into little pieces and feed them to your boyfriend." She wielded a short, gleaming dagger alongside her wand and charged. "Starting with your fake fucking tits."
Fleur leapt out of a cartwheel and put a pair of piercing hexes through Diana's chest; she toppled onto her face, wand and knife clattering to the ground.
The remaining two assassins aimed their wands at Fleur's back.
Tristan unleashed his magic, burying them in a screaming storm of ink-black needles and crooked claws that stripped the flesh off their bones in furious whispers.
Malfoy and Lestrange shared a glance, eyes full of fear, then swirled on their heels and ran for the stairs.
"Oh no, you don't." Tristan wrung his wrist, sending them stumbling to the ground, and hoisted them high up into the air by their necks in a grip of magic.
"You cannot kill us." Crouch gagged, kicking and punching the air. "My father knows I am here; he will slaughter your entire family."
"Finish them, mon Coeur," Fleur hissed, glaring at Malfoy with pitch-dark eyes. "Get this over with."
He watched them struggle. "You two wanted to take Fleur away from me." Through the roaring fury, paper-thin satisfaction spread into a small smile across Tristan's lips. "But she's my world; I need her more than air, so now I'll show you how that feels..."
He closed his fingers.
Their wand bounced across the floor as they clutched their necks and choked for breath, flailing like a fish on the hook. Tristan squeezed until Abraxas' pale face swelled purple, Crouch's black eyes bulged in their sockets and a thin trickle of crimson ran from their nostrils.
Their legs stopped kicking and their arms slumped.
Tristan flung them to the floor and brushed them off the dais with a wave of his hand.
Silence hung in the chamber, still and thick tense, save for their labored breaths and the whisper of the veil.
"It's done," he murmured, wiping the sweat off his brow.
Fleur traced the tip of her wand over a cut at her waist and pointed one lithe, blood-stained arm back at the golden dome. "Not quite yet, mon Coeur."
A door high above the benches burst open with a bang.
Bartemius Crouch marched down the rows, trailed by almost a dozen people, half of them red-robed Aurors. Crouch stopped dead in his tracks as his beady black eyes found his son's still form. "No," he whispered. "Casper?"
"That is my son there with him!" Esmeralda Malfoy screamed. "They murdered our sons!" She thrust her finger at Tristan. "Aurors, kill him!"
The Aurors glanced at Rufus Scrimgeour. "Sir?" Shacklebolt asked.
"We secure the scene and take them in for questioning," he said.
Crouch drew his wand, shaking with rage, and pointed it between Scrimgeour's eyes. "I said kill them now, or you will join them!" he barked.
Scrimgeour didn't move a muscle. "I can't do that, Minister."
Corvus Lestrange shoved himself past, face twisted into a mask of fury. "We will do it ourselves then. I see both my grandchildren down there, too!"
A bench grated into his path and another stacked on top.
Tristan's father leapt over them. "None of you will touch my son or Fleur." His green eyes roamed over each body, lingering with a small frown on the veil. "Where are James and Lily, Tristan?"
"Gone of this world, as they should be." Teddy hauled himself upright on the pillar of the arch, spitting a mouthful of blood. "But you should be with them by now." His voice dropped to the barest whispers. "All of this should be gone; it's meant to."
"It wasn't enough," Tristan muttered. "You're done. You failed."
Teddy crouched down and picked up the knife, studying his reflection in the blade. "Perhaps I have failed." He slashed his arm open from wrist to elbow and crumpled to the floor with a small gasp. "But if men won't kill God, the devil will."
Blood poured over the tiles, sinking into the swirling patterns of runes, and a dull rumble shook the chamber, humming through every rock.
The ribbon pivoting about the two pillars like an hourglass spun to a stop, then exploded in a wash of golden light.
Fleur knocked into him, driving the air from Tristan's lungs and sending him stumbling as fierce winds whipped across his face and pushed him along the platform. He threw up his arms, squinting through the gaps in his finger and the blinding ripples of gold at the arch.
A single shadow, tall and thin and draped in black, slid from the veil on bare feet pale as bone. Its crimson eyes burned through the fading motes of amber magic like rubies carved into a ring of gold.