Date: Monday, January 6th, 1986
Time: 08:00 AM
Location: Wizengamot High Court Chamber, Department of Magical Law, Ministry of Magic, London, United Kingdom
The stone walls of the Wizengamot High Court stood silent and foreboding, a circular chamber built into the heart of the British Ministry of Magic's lowest levels...older than the Atrium above, older even than the Department of Mysteries. It had seen trials, blood feuds, succession crises, and magical wars debated under the flicker of enchanted torches and the ever-watchful carvings of ancient magical law. But today, something would be revealed that had not stirred within its walls for over a thousand years.
The air was unusually tense. Whispers floated between cloaked members of the Wizengamot seated in their high-backed black marble chairs, their plum-colored robes edged in silver. Some fiddled with their wands beneath their cuffs. Others gripped parchment with white-knuckled hands, staring at the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, which lay open on desks across the courtroom.
Front Page Headline: "Heir of the Crown: The Queen's Grandson Found Alive...Confirmed to Be Harry James Potter." and "Child Survivor Transferred to Royal Residence in East Wing of Buckingham Palace."
Beneath the headline, a grainy black-and-white photo captured a fleeting moment of Harry's pale face behind the tinted glass of the royal Rolls-Royce, surrounded by six girls...none named, but all wearing matching gold bands.
The magical world had been thrown into confusion. The silence surrounding the Boy-Who-Lived had shattered overnight. And now, the court had been summoned to order...because someone had failed.
That someone was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and bearer of a reputation more golden than any galleon. But today, he did not stand as a beacon of wisdom. Today, he stood uncertain, deeply shaken.
"I had no knowledge," he said again, his voice rasped and tight. "I did not know Lily Potter had royal lineage. That she had been reconnected with the Crown. No such information was shared with me by the Ministry, nor by her directly." His declaration echoed through the chamber, but it did little to calm the rising tide.
Lady Augusta Longbottom, her cane tapped hard against the stone floor, eyes blazing. "You placed the boy with the Dursleys, Albus. Without oversight. Without even consulting this court. And now we find out...from the Muggles...that the boy was a royal heir?"
"I believed it was the safest course," Dumbledore replied, his voice faltering beneath the weight of disapproving stares. "I acted with the best of intentions. Petunia was his blood..."
"...and she beat him and locked him in a cupboard," snapped Lord Henry Greengrass, his normally calm demeanor laced with fury. "You placed a magical child into a hostile, Muggle home without tracking or follow-up. And now he is surrounded by six magical girls who carry what our historians are calling the Bands of Eternity...a binding ritual older than the Founding of this court!" Dumbledore repeated, "I didn't know," but the words sounded brittle, inadequate. Then the torches flickered. The air thickened. The magic embedded in the chamber...older than the Ministry itself...responded to a presence it had not felt since the age of the Founders.
A golden wind rippled through the floor tiles, stirring the robes of the assembled. The ceiling shimmered, and a circle of glowing runes appeared in the center of the chamber. Magical alarms flared...but were silenced instantly by the court's oldest enchantments. The runes pulsed once… twice…Then Elana Hogwarts appeared.
She stepped from the light not like a conjured projection or summoned witness, but like a queen stepping through a doorway of time. She wore robes modeled in the cut of the Hogwarts uniform, but unlike any the modern age had seen. The skirt and blazer bore all four House colors...scarlet, emerald, blue, and yellow...interwoven with silver thread in ancient runic pattern. Over her heart lay a golden Hogwarts crest, small and elegant. Across her back, stitched in glowing thread, a larger crest shimmered beneath a clear inscription in English and Runes: Lady Elana Hogwarts Soul of the Founders, Keeper of the Bound, First of the Circle
On her left wrist, the Band of Eternity glowed bright gold, the names inscribed in Veela script glowing faintly are: Harry James Potter, Elana Hogwarts, Hermione Jean Granger, Fleur Isabelle Delacour, Nymphadora Tonks, Susan Bones, Gabrielle Delacour.
Elana's boots clicked softly on the stone as she walked forward. Her face was calm. Timeless. Her long silver-blonde hair was braided in a crown across her head. She carried no wand, yet her presence was magic itself. "I speak today…" she began, her voice soft but echoing perfectly across the chamber, "..not as a witness or a petitioner, but as a member of the Bound and as Lady of the Founders. I am Elana of Hogwarts...born of the school's heart, raised from its soul, protector of the Bond forged in fire and light."
Every member of the Wizengamot froze. One by one, ancient enchantments embedded in the chamber began to react. The four Founder sigils carved into the high arches above the court began to glow faintly...Gryffindor red, Slytherin green, Ravenclaw blue, and Hufflepuff gold. Magic bowed to her presence, acknowledging something no wizard in a thousand years had seen.
Elana walked slowly into the center of the circle. "I come not to answer for Lord Harry James Potter...," she said, her voice stronger now, "...for he is not here. He is a child in recovery, shielded by Crown and Soulstone alike. I speak in his stead, with his permission and under the Oath of the Eternal Band."
Lady Bones, seated beside her niece's empty chair, leaned forward. "Why reveal yourself to us now?" Elana inclined her head. "Because you speak of him. Because you debate his future, his worth, and his placement...as if he were a token or mistake to be corrected. I will not allow that."
Dumbledore rose shakily to his feet. "Why was I never informed?" he asked. "Why was none of this brought before me as Chief Warlock?" Elana turned, her gaze like tempered steel. "Because power has blinded you, Albus Dumbledore. You trusted your own judgment above all else. You placed a child into darkness without confirming that light would ever reach him. You trusted a blood connection over a soul's cry. And because of that, the Crown found him before you ever did." Silence though room as Elana stepped forward one last time. "The boy you ignored will rise. Not as your weapon. Not as your puppet. But as a child of magic, of royalty, and of destiny. And he shall be surrounded...not by politicians...but by those who feel his pain, who share his joy, and who hold his soul in their hearts."
She raised her left arm. The Band pulsed. "This is the mark of the Bond Eternal. You may not recognize it yet. But soon you will as will the world." She turned slowly to the court. "This hearing is done and has ended, for I have spoken. The Founders heir has returned." And with a final breath of golden magic, she vanished, leaving only silence and seven names glowing faintly in the air.
Time: 10:23 AM
Location: Private East Wing, Buckingham Palace, London, United Kingdom
The soft winter light streamed through the tall windows of Harry's private room, filtered by the heavy silk curtains embroidered with golden stars. The warmth in the chamber was not only from the fire crackling in the hearth or the enchanted radiators humming discreetly in the walls...it came from the presence of those who filled the space with something deeper than heat: love, bond, and family.
Harry James Potter, still resting in his large bed, his legs carefully elevated under the sheets, stirred at the sound of delicate footsteps approaching. Gabrielle lay beside him with her head nestled against his side, and Hermione sat on the bed's edge, quietly reading to him from a children's book bound in deep red leather. Fleur, standing at the foot of the bed, had been softly brushing Gabrielle's hair, her posture elegant and maternal in a way that was natural to her Full-Veela blood. Dora sat cross-legged in the plush window seat, flipping a gold Sicklesized coin between her fingers. Susan, as always, sat closest to the door...ever the calm, watching guardian. Elana stood quietly to the side, gazing out the window, serene and regal in her deep-blue robes trimmed in the four House colors.
Then came the knock...three soft taps, followed by the gentle turn of the ornate brass handle. It was the Delacour family.
Apolline Delacour, with her elegant posture and cascading golden curls, entered first, her eyes brimming with emotion at the sight of both daughters safe and whole. Monsieur Marc Delacour, bearing proud and formal despite the emotion tightening his throat, walked closely behind his wife. The two paused at the threshold, their eyes locking on Fleur and Gabrielle...then shifting to the boy in the bed between them.
Fleur was the first to speak. "Maman…Papa…this is Harry." Gabrielle sat up at once, her Band of Eternity catching the sunlight and glowing faintly with its golden script. "He's mine too. He's ours." Marc stepped forward slowly. "So it is true. The bond has awakened."
Harry blinked, unsure, before attempting a nervous smile. "You're Fleur and Gabby's parents?" Apolline approached and knelt at the side of the bed, her tone warm but trembling. "Yes, mon trésor (my treasure). I am Apolline, and this is Marc, and you… you are part of our family now."
Harry looked surprised, his fingers tightening slightly in Gabrielle's hand. "I don't understand how. I'm just… me." Gabrielle answered for them all, her voice clear and bright. "You're Harry. That's all we needed." Behind the Delacours, another figure entered with quiet grace.
Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Susan's aunt. She carried herself with the poise of a seasoned official and the warmth of a woman who remembered Lily Potter as a friend, not just a name in a report. Her dark coat was undone at the collar, and her round monocle gleamed as she stepped into the light.
"I came as soon as I was cleared," she said gently, her voice directed to Elana and the Queen standing behind her. Then her eyes fell on Harry, and her tone softened. "Hello, little lord." Harry frowned slightly. "I don't understand why everyone keeps calling me that. I'm not… I mean, I don't feel like a lord." Amelia stepped forward and lowered herself into the chair beside his bed. "Then it's time someone explained."
Elana turned from the window, her voice calm and grounding. "Harry," she said, "do you remember what I told you when we first met? That I was born of the magic of Hogwarts?" Harry nodded. "You said the school has a soul…and you are it." Elana gave a soft, proud smile. "Yes. And because you carry the Soulstone...the heart of the Bound...you are tied to me in more than name. You are the Bonded Heir. And that means you are not just of Hogwarts… you are Hogwarts. The magic has chosen you. And so, by ancient right…"
Amelia finished gently, her voice reverent. "You are Lord Harry James 'Hogwarts' Potter, by magical inheritance. The first to carry the Founders' mantle in over a thousand years." Harry's eyes widened, his small hands twitching slightly beneath the covers. "But… I don't know anything about being a lord. I don't even know how to walk again yet." Marc chuckled softly, kneeling to Harry's level. "Then you will learn. Just as any boy learns to read, or fly a broom, or hold a wand. You have time...and more than that, you have people who will help you."
Fleur stepped forward then, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to be anything other than you, Harry. We are bound to you because of who you are, not what you are called." Gabrielle nodded eagerly. "We like your name. Lord or not." Hermione leaned closer. "We'll figure it out together." Susan smiled softly. "We already are."
Harry looked down at his chest, where the Soulstone of the Bound rested beneath his shirt, hidden but always present. It pulsed faintly, as if aware of the moment. Then he looked around at the faces of those who filled the room.
"I don't feel scared," he whispered. "Not even a little." Elana approached and placed her hand over his heart. "That is because, my Lord Hogwarts… for the first time, your soul is not alone."
And as the golden Bands of Eternity shimmered softly on the wrists of the soul-bound, and the light of the winter sun spilled across the floor of the room, Harry reached up and grasped the hand Elana offered him.
"Then I'll do my best. For them. For you. For all of us." The Founders' legacy had returned...not in a throne or a title, but in the heart of a five-year-old boy, reborn in light, love, and the bond of the eternal.
Time: 02:41 PM
Location: Private East Wing, Buckingham Palace, London, United Kingdom
The room that had once been designed as a recovery suite was now shifting into something more...a sanctum of history. The air within the chamber hummed gently with the ancient pulse of magic that lingered whenever Elana Hogwarts stood too long in one place. The Soulstone hidden beneath Harry's soft cotton shirt shimmered against his chest, syncing with the six golden Bands of Eternity worn by the girls encircling him. Warmth radiated through the space, not from the fire in the hearth, but from the magic of connection...of soul to soul, bond to bond.
Harry sat up more comfortably now, propped with two pillows behind his back and Gabrielle curled beside his left side, her tiny head tucked against his arm as she dozed. Hermione and Fleur sat at the foot of the bed reading from an old illustrated text on magical theory that Susan had brought earlier. Dora rested casually in the oversized reading chair, her hair a muted violet that reflected her relaxed focus as she polished one of the brass buttons on Harry's new pajama top, clearly not content until everything he wore felt just right.
The Queen had stepped out to meet with security officers, and Amelia Bones, Apolline, and Marc Delacour were deep in conversation in the next room over. But Harry and the girls remained together, feeling whole. Then came the knock at the side door...two soft taps, followed by the hiss of the protective enchantments recognizing friendly intent. Elana rose smoothly from her seat near the hearth and walked to open it herself.
The visitor who entered was cloaked in robes the color of well-aged parchment, lined in silver thread that shimmered faintly with every motion. His long, deep-brown beard reached to his belt, and his eyes were magnified slightly behind monocle-like half-lens spectacles enchanted to read magical signatures in the air. In his hands, he held an aged scroll case made from wyvern leather, its surface embossed with the ancient Hogwarts crest. A satchel at his side glowed faintly as it pulsed in rhythm with the Soulstone across the room.
"Lady Hogwarts," he said with a deep bow. "I am Historian Regent Archibald Thorne, Keeper of the Record of Lineage and Flame. I come at the summoning of the Soulstone." Elana inclined her head. "Welcome, Master Thorne. The House of Hogwarts has awakened, and the record must reflect its rebirth." Harry tilted his head, blinking in curiosity. "Is that… a real historian? Like from books?"
Thorne approached gently, his voice low and kind. "Indeed I am, young Lord Hogwarts. And your story is now one of the most important our magical world has ever seen." From his satchel, the historian drew out a thick parchment scroll. The ends were capped in gold, and the material shimmered with preservation spells that hummed faintly when brought near the Soulstone. When Thorne unrolled the scroll across the polished walnut table near the bed, the girls gasped quietly.
The Document of Flame and Soul, known to most only in legend, revealed itself at once. Magical ink shimmered across the page in four colors...red, green, blue, and gold...interwoven in a script so ancient that even Hermione paused to decipher it before recognizing the blend of Latin, Old English, and High Runes.
At the top of the parchment, centered beneath the faded sigils of Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, was a title that burned with golden ink: Rebirth of the House of Hogwarts: The Soul-Bound Circle of the Chosen Heir
Beneath it, the first name glowed brighter than the rest, having only recently burned itself into the page: Lord Harry James Potter – Heir and Core of the Circle
Underneath it, aligned to the left in smaller script, each preceded by the symbol of their soul path, the names of the bound girls shimmered in succession:
-)Lady Elana Hogwarts – Soul of the Founders, First of the Bound
-)Hermione Jean Granger – Keeper of Memory, Heart of the Mind
-)Fleur Isabelle Delacour – Flame of Passion, Shield of Grace
-)Nymphadora Tonks – Guardian of Form, Voice of the Free
-)Susan Bones – Heart of Justice, Calm of the Storm
-)Gabrielle Delacour – Song of Innocence, Light of the Dawn
Harry stared at the parchment in awe. "That's us... it's really us." Elana confirmed with a smile saying "It is,", with her hand resting lightly over the scroll. "Each of your names, written in eternal ink, will glow for as long as the bond holds. When another girl is awakened to the soul-bound, her name will appear in turn. No lies can be written here. Only the truth."
Thorne added reverently, "This scroll was started over a thousand years ago. The founders crafted it for the one they knew would come...the one who would carry all their magic within his heart. Until now, it remained blank beyond their own sigils."
Harry looked down at the Soulstone, then over at Gabrielle, who blinked awake sleepily and clutched his hand again. "Will all the names go here?" he asked softly. Thorne nodded. "As each girl joins the circle, as the Bond of Eternity recognizes them, the scroll will record them by role and path."
Hermione leaned closer, eyes wide. "It has magic that reads our essence?" "Yes," said Thorne. "More than blood. More than wand cores. This scroll records what is felt, what is shared, and what is chosen freely by the soul."
Fleur's voice trembled slightly. "This will be read one day by the magical world?" "It will be protected until the time comes when the world is ready," Elana said, "but yes. When Harry takes his place...not just as Lord Hogwarts, but as the heart of our magical future...this document will bear witness."
Susan nodded thoughtfully. "Then it's not just a scroll. It's a promise." Harry looked up and said with a voice far too wise for his age, "Then let's make sure we honor every name that's written on it."
The Bands of Eternity pulsed on six wrists. The Soulstone glowed gently from beneath his shirt. And as Historian Thorne carefully resealed the scroll into its enchanted case, the magic whispered in a voice older than any present: "The House of Hogwarts rises once more...not from stone, but from soul."
Time: 11:57 PM Japan Standard Time / 02:57 PM Greenwich Mean Time
Location: Kyoto, Japan → British Ministry of Magic → Buckingham Palace, London
Far from the golden towers of Buckingham Palace and the frost-kissed streets of London, the sacred grounds of Kyoto's last living Mitsue-shiro shrine lay cradled within the silent folds of snow-laced pines. The air here shimmered not with frost, but with power...ancient, reverent, and fiercely divine. Within the heart of this sanctuary stood a woman who was more than legend and more than human. She was the past reborn, the sacred future promised.
She was Mizukume...once known to myth as Tamamo-no-Mae, the Nine-Tailed Fox. Though she now lived peacefully in her role as the Supreme Priestess of the Bound Flame Shrine, her soul had stirred violently the moment the Bands of Eternity had ignited across the world. That single moment...when the Soulstone awoke in London...was enough to reawaken the divine contract that had bound her soul to another so long ago. To Harry James Potter.
She stood alone before her shrine's central brazier, the scent of foxfire and cherry blossoms mingling with the smoke curling upward into the night sky. Her form shimmered faintly beneath the layered weight of her ceremonial shrine maiden robes...white silk sleeves embroidered with golden sakura, crimson hakama tied at her narrow waist. Her nine shimmering tails, tipped in gold, flowed like silk behind her, and her hair, a brilliant wash of sunset-pink, framed eyes that glowed with timeless wisdom.
Upon her left wrist, hidden beneath the layered sleeve, pulsed the Band of Eternity, burning bright gold in the still air. The inscription, carved in Ancient Veela Script, glowed softly: Harry James Potter, Elana Hogwarts, Hermione Jean Granger, Fleur Isabelle Delacour, Nymphadora Tonks, Susan Bones, Gabrielle Delacour, Mizukume
"I can feel them," she whispered to the flame. "The others. My soul-sisters. And him...my heart's other half. He has awakened." The shrine's wards opened before her, and the stone torii gate shimmered, revealing the long-forbidden path that linked their holy ground to the Japanese Ministry of Magic. She stepped forward with neither fear nor haste. Those who met her gaze bowed instinctively...aurors, shrine guards, even elder officials who remembered her name only as a whispered myth.
At the ministry gates, a high-ranking Japanese Auror, his jaw clenched and spine stiff, saluted her without hesitation. "Mitsue-shiro… the international floo is ready. The British Ministry has been notified." Mizukume nodded. "Then I shall go."
At the Floo Nexus, she held her right hand to the flame, invoking the ancient permission rite. "I travel as the soul-bound of the Circle Eternal, summoned by the Soulstone and bound to the House of Hogwarts. Let no law stand between me and what my soul claims."
She held up her left wrist. The Band of Eternity flared once, and the flames shifted...acceptance granted. With a graceful step, she entered the green fire, her form vanishing in a burst of sacred foxfire as she called clearly: "Ministry of Magic...London. International Arrival Platform One."
Location: British Ministry of Magic, London
Time: 02:57 PM GMT
The Floo flames erupted with a flash of divine magic not seen in a century. The Arrival Platform One, normally dull with soot and formality, suddenly blazed with golden light as Mizukume stepped through, tails fluttering, her presence stunning the on-duty guards into silence. One startled officer tripped over a clipboard, sending enchanted files skittering across the floor.
The Head of International Magical Arrivals, a pale woman in crisp robes, approached cautiously. "Identify yourself, ma'am." Mizukume calmly drew back her sleeve, revealing the still-glowing Band of Eternity. "My name is Mizukume. I am the Eighth of the Bound. My soul calls me to Lord Harry James Potter."
The official's eyes widened as she muttered an incantation to verify the bond. The Band flared in answer, and a soft golden pulse echoed through the chamber. Confirmation: Bound. Legitimate. Soul-linked. "You are…cleared," the official whispered. "W...we've been instructed to expedite any bonded arrivals to Buckingham Palace. Please follow me."
Location: Buckingham Palace, East Wing – Private Suite
Time: 03:12 PM GMT
Harry stirred again, his eyes blinking slowly open as the Soulstone under his shirt pulsed harder, warmer. His brows furrowed in confusion, and then his lips parted in wonder. "I feel something… no, someone."
The girls stirred around him. Fleur's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the same. Elana had already risen from her chair. "She comes," Elana said, stepping toward the hallway. "The Eighth Flame." The door opened with a whisper, and there she stood…Mizukume.
Her golden eyes glowed softly in the candlelight. The shrine maiden robes whispered with every step she took forward, her nine tails curling gently behind her. She knelt without hesitation beside Harry's bed and pressed her hand over the Soulstone, just above his heart.
"My name is Mizukume," she whispered. "And I have waited many lifetimes to return to you."
Harry looked into her eyes...foxfire and moonlight...and though he had never seen her before, he felt his chest tighten. His eyes watered. "I remember your voice... when I dreamed of stars and snow." With a smile she says "And I remember your soul," with tears spilling down her cheeks. "Even when you had no name. Even when I had no body." Elana's voice was strong behind them. "Now she has returned. The Circle grows stronger."
The girls approached, one by one, each instinctively recognizing her. Fleur offered her hand first, then Susan. Dora gave a smirk and a wink, and Hermione, ever quick to understand, simply stepped forward and embraced her. Gabrielle, blinking up at her, whispered in awe. "You're beautiful… like a story come alive." Mizukume looked at the Band on her wrist as it pulsed, the golden letters now complete with her name. She kissed Harry's forehead gently.
"I will protect you with every tail I have. With every prayer I've ever spoken." And as she sat beside him, Harry leaned into her, eyes drifting closed again. "You're home too," he murmured, barely audible. And with that, the Circle of Eight stood whole...for now.
Time: 09:11 PM
Location: Private Tactical Chamber, Sublevel 2, Buckingham Palace, London
The briefing room had changed. Gone were the formalities of diplomatic planning and royal logistics. Now, the chamber had transformed into a nerve center of magical planning and martial strategy. The long table that once bore reports and sealed letters from magical ministries around the world now supported enchanted maps of Hogwarts, ley line intersections across Britain, known Dark safehouses, and classified Ministry threat profiles. Floating above the table, a shimmering gold rune slowly spun...projected directly from the Soulstone embedded within the heart of the protection enchantments.
This was no longer a discussion of policy. It was the beginning of something more...the birth of a force loyal not to a government or a faction, but to Harry James Potter and the soul-bound circle that formed his shield and soul. Elana, seated at the head of the table, tapped the air above a magical seal. Her expression was calm but intense. "This circle will be sacred," she said with certainty. "They will swear to no Minister, take no direction from Wizengamot factions, and answer only to Lord Hogwarts and the core circle. The moment one is found unworthy, the Bands will reject them."
Amelia Bones, her sleeves rolled up and wand resting atop a parchment scroll containing the first draft of Charter Protocol: Covenant Guard, nodded in agreement. "We've long needed a force that wasn't shackled by politics. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is too slow, too divided. If we want to ensure Harry's safety...real safety...we need our own."
At Elana's side, radiating sacred calm, sat Mizukume. Her tails moved slowly behind her as she sat, her shrine maiden robes immaculate. She traced her finger across an ancient seal inked in sacred foxfire. "The Covenant Guard must be balanced...body, soul, heart, and spirit. We do not need the strongest wand. We need the purest intent."
It was then that the rune above the table flared. Not red. Not gold. But violet. The three women froze. A second rune materialized beside it, this one etched in spiraling energy. It glowed and pulsed in perfect rhythm with a Band of Eternity. And they knew, even before she entered, the door opened with a quiet snap.
Nymphadora Tonks strolled in with her usual unassuming gait, her hair a fierce violet with silver streaks, her expression caught somewhere between pride and disbelief. She wore a modified casual training cloak over a white tunic and high boots, with her wand sheathed at her thigh.
"Alright," she said with a half-smirk, "which one of you summoned me with ancient soul magic again? I was just about to put on a record and fall asleep." Elana stood at once, eyes glowing faintly. "The Soulstone chose you, Dora." Tonks blinked. "Wait. You're serious?"
Mizukume nodded, her voice calm. "The bond has accepted your next path. Not as merely a bound sister. But as the first protector. The first sword. The first Co-Leader of the Covenant Guard."
Dora paused, her face shifting through several expressions...shock, joy, and a momentary flicker of fear. Amelia smiled softly. "You always said you'd make a hell of an Auror. Now the magic's made it official." Tonks rubbed the back of her neck. "Merlin… I always said I'd protect Harry. I didn't think I'd get picked by a bloody prophecy to do it."
"You weren't picked by prophecy," Elana said gently. "You were chosen by Harry's soul." Tonks stepped forward, placing her hand over the floating rune, which immediately split into two...one settling over her head, the other bonding to the magical parchment where her name now glowed: Nymphadora "Dora" Tonks, the Vanguard of the Circle, Co-Leader of the Covenant Guard, First Sentinel of the Bound
She exhaled slowly. "Alright then," she said. "Guess I'm in charge of something now."
Elana stepped beside her. "We'll help you recruit. One at a time. Aurors, Unspeakables, maybe even a few retired legends. But you will lead. You must be his shadow, his shield, and...when needed...his sword."
Tonks nodded, her voice low but sure. "He'll never be alone. Not even for a second. I swear it. I'll be there when he walks into Hogwarts. I'll be there if he stumbles. I'll stand next to him until my last breath." She looked to right the others. "And I want the name. For all of us." Amelia raised an eyebrow. "What name?" Tonks smiled, wide and proud. "The Covenant Guard. It's more than protection. It's a vow." Mizukume smiled. "The name is worthy."
Elana reached out and pressed her fingers to Dora's Band. It pulsed once, then sent a radiant shimmer through the room, as if blessing the oath. "Then it begins," Elana whispered. Back in Harry's room, he stirred gently, turning in his sleep. His dreams were quiet tonight...safe, warm. But even in his unconscious mind, he felt her draw closer. A part of him whispered the truth: Someone has taken up the sword. And she will never leave his side.
Date: Tuesday, January 7th, 1986
Time: 01:14 AM
Location: Buckingham Palace, East Wing – Magical Perimeter Sector Delta
The alarm triggered with a shimmer barely perceptible to the untrained eye. A ripple of deep blue magic ran along the outermost enchanted line of the private magical barrier that ringed the East Wing of Buckingham Palace...award recently laid by Mizukume herself, refined and anchored by Elana's ancient Hogwarts-bound magic and secured by Amelia Bones' ministry-level counter-intrusion protocols. But this flare… this was different. It didn't tear through the ward. It didn't even try to breach it. It simply pinged. Like a soundless knock on glass. A pulse. And then it vanished.
Amelia Bones was out of her bed within seconds, wand in hand, her robes half-drawn over her nightshirt as she strode into the private command annex adjacent to the East Wing's family suite. The Queen was already there, her night attire replaced by a dark gray coat, a scarf pinned at her collar with a tiny gold phoenix.
"What do we know?" the Queen asked without preamble, her voice cool steel. "One magical device triggered the outermost detection web," Amelia said, eyes fixed on the floating rune projection above the ward map. "It didn't cross the threshold. It planted something. Stationary, small, low-energy." the Queen who joined them "Tracking?" asked. "Too refined for a normal trace," Amelia replied. "I'm bringing in Tonks."
Ten minutes later, Dora landed silently in the rose garden below Harry's window, her boots light on the frost-covered ground. Her wand was out, glowing with a detection charm that shimmered silver-blue as it passed over the grass. She crouched low near the base of the old elm tree, just under the window ledge of the young Lord's bedchamber.
"There," she whispered, hand outstretched. A small device...not much larger than a snitch...lay nestled in the dirt. Its surface was smooth obsidian, etched with layered runes and subtle Mermish glyphs, like it had been designed not for power but for precision. Dora's brow furrowed.
"Horcrux-seeker?" she muttered. "Why in Merlin's name would this be here?" Then came the snap of a broken stick. Dora spun. The figure emerging from the mist was cloaked in navy and silver robes, hood up, but her gait was too careful, too delicate. A wand flickered in her right hand, but the magic was defensive, not hostile.
"Drop it," Dora ordered with her wand raised. The hood fell. She was young...mid-twenties...with round spectacles and short-cropped hair, ink stains still visible on the fingers of her right hand. A brass Department of Mysteries emblem was pinned to her chest.
"I'm not here to hurt him," she said quickly. "My name is Ilyana Vale, scribe of the Hall of Unwritten Prophecy. I didn't place the device to track or harm. It's tuned to Horcrux fragments. We've been watching anomalies since 1981."
Dora narrowed her eyes. "Why come here?", "I detected a residual echo beneath his window," Ilyana said. "The trace led me here. I needed to confirm...", "You should've come through channels," Dora snapped. "You're coming with me."
"No restraint needed," Ilyana said quietly, lowering her wand and holding out her hands. "Just let me see what it found." Five minutes later, Dora marched Ilyana into the East Wing's secure corridor. Elana stood in the doorway to Harry's room, wand glowing softly as she examined the Soulstone's pulse through the chamber walls.
"Another seeker device," Dora reported. "Horcrux-specific. She didn't plant it...magic confirms that. It locked on to something…below or in this room." Ilyana stepped forward, glancing at Elana, then the Queen, who had arrived in silence behind them. "I wouldn't have come without cause," she said. "But I felt it even from the floo hub. There's something… fragmented. Right beneath this space." Elana's eyes darkened. "Bring it inside."
The girls stirred from their positions around Harry's bed. Hermione sat up first, followed by Fleur, Susan, and then Gabrielle. Mizukume's ears twitched slightly, her tails curling as she felt the foreign magical current.
Ilyana stopped in the doorway, her gaze falling to Harry's sleeping form. Then she flicked her wand with practiced care and whispered, "Vestigia Crux." A ring of silver fire burst around Harry's bed...and surged toward his head. A second pulse erupted from the Soulstone beneath his chest...clashing with the seeker charm for a fraction of a second...then merging with it. Right at his forehead. Everyone froze. Hermione gasped. "His scar…" Gabrielle's eyes widened as she reached for Harry's hand. "It's glowing…"
Elana was already moving. "There's a fragment of soul in him. Not his. A Horcrux." Ilyana fell to her knees, overwhelmed by the intensity. "I didn't know...it was him. That's why the prophecy was unstable. That's why the energy never faded."
Then something happened that no one expected. The magic flared around Ilyana's hand. A bright golden mark appeared on her skin. Not a burn. Not a curse. A sigil...ancient, binding. In the shape of a stylized phoenix crossed with the Veela script of the Bands of Eternity. Dora's eyes went wide. "That's the mark of the Covenant Guard." Mizukume blinked, awe in her voice. "The magic has claimed her."
Elana stepped forward and helped Ilyana to her feet. "You came not to harm, but to reveal. You followed instinct, not orders. You sought truth, not power. You are called to one of the guards." Ilyana's lips trembled. "But I'm not a warrior. I'm a scribe. I document. I translate. I read echoes." Dora placed a hand on her shoulder. "And sometimes, that's what saves lives. Welcome to the Guard."
As the glow faded and Ilyana looked around the room...at Harry, at the girls, at the mark on her hand...she felt something settle deep in her chest. Purpose. At that moment the Covenant Guard had found its second head member.
Time: 2:20 AM
Location: Private Royal Chambers, East Wing, Buckingham Palace, London, England
The room was cloaked in gentle shadows, its velvet curtains drawn tightly against the winter moonlight. An enchantment softened the air within, keeping it warm despite the frost that kissed the palace windows outside. At the heart of the Royal Wing's private quarters, a circle of gold and silver chalk shimmered against the marble floor, glowing faintly in response to the magical energy that pulsed around it like a heartbeat.
Harry Potter lay in a four-poster bed far larger than any he had ever known, covered in layers of silk and wool. His small frame was tangled in the sheets, his brow slick with sweat, his limbs twitching violently as low, strangled cries escaped him. The Bonded stirred. "I feel him," Hermione whispered, her voice a strained tremble as she clutched at her chest. "His fear...it's like ice in my veins."
"I feel it too," Fleur said, her voice tight with emotion as her golden band...her Band of Eternity...glowed with ethereal light. "Mon cœur (my heart), he's slipping into the nightmare again. We must act. Now." Across from them, the ritual was already underway. Elana Hogwarts stood at the head of the arcane circle, her hand raised, her face set in fierce concentration. She looked every bit the daughter of magic she was...regal, commanding, and radiant. The Ancient Veela script on her band shimmered as her love and power intertwined. "I'm ready," Elana said, her violet eyes gleaming. "Mizukume, Ilyana, begin the harmonic binding. We only have minutes before the fragment attempts to escape."
Mizukume, kneeling on one side of the circle, allowed her long pink hair to fall forward like a veil as she pressed her palm to the marble. Her fox ears twitched faintly, her nine tails fanned behind her like a shrine's sacred banner. "I can feel his pain... it sings to me like an old sorrow. Let me take it. Let me purify it."
Ilyana, the mystic scribe from the Department of Mysteries, added her voice to the spell. She spoke in tongues older than even Elana remembered...script once sealed in the deepest halls of the Ministry. Her fingers drew sigils in midair that glowed red and gold.
Suddenly, Harry cried out, his back arching as his small fists clenched the sheets. "No, don't let him near me again..." His scream cut through them like a dagger. "Please, not the cupboard. Please..." Gabrielle whimpered in her sleep, her bond flaring. The youngest Bound stirred and instinctively reached out across the magic connecting them. "'Arry…..I'm here. Don't cry, please…" Susan pressed her palm against the side of the bed, her voice trembling but firm. "He's not alone anymore. We're here. We'll always be here." Dora's hair flashed crimson, then blue, then deep pink, reacting with wild surges to the emotional storm. "Bloody bastard. I swear, if I could get my hands on the monster who..." "You already are," Elana cut in sharply. "Now hold the circle! The soul fragment is surfacing. Everyone...anchor your resonance!"
The Bands of Eternity on each girl's wrist pulsed as one, golden lines of light stretching from their hearts to the circle surrounding Harry. The glow intensified.
Inside the bed, Harry's scar ignited like molten iron. A scream of pure, unholy rage burst forth from his lips...but it was not his voice. "Elana, now!" Mizukume cried, her tails flaring like a phoenix's wings. "I call upon the Flame of Purity," Elana chanted, her voice rising like thunder. "By the Bound of Heart and Soul, I sever you, dark parasite, from what you do not own!"
The chalk circle exploded in light. From Harry's scar, a torrent of black smoke surged out like ink spilled into fire. It twisted, it howled, it screamed...it fought. Voldemort's fragment, feral and bound by no body, clawed against the barrier of the circle, trying to flee. "AND where do you think you're going?" Ilyana hissed. "This plane no longer welcomes you are to be gone."
And then...it happened. From the center of the ritual circle, reality ripped. It was not like any magic the Bound had ever seen. No spell was cast. No wand was raised. It was as if the very fabric of magic recognized the evil it faced and responded with primal instinct. A tear in space yawned open...charred black at the edges, glowing deep crimson within like burning coals. A single sound echoed from it: a heartbeat, deep and terrible, like a drum in the depths of the abyss. "Mother of Magic," Dora breathed, "that is..that is Hell."
The Horcrux fragment screamed again...a shriek of pure soul-agony...and was sucked into the tear like a leaf in a storm. The Bound felt its hatred, its panic, its deathless fear...and then it was gone.
The rip closed with a sound like a thunderclap and a thousand screams dying all at once. Silence fell. Harry collapsed against the bed, the tension leaving him all at once. The scar on his forehead no longer glowed. It had dulled to a faint red welt...nothing more.
The Bands of Eternity glowed one final time before settling into quiet, their ancient script humming with magic and love. Hermione was the first to move, rushing to his side, taking his small hand into hers. "I'm here, Harry. We're all here."
"I saw...I saw you," Harry whispered hoarsely. "All of you…I wasn't alone." "You never will be again," Fleur whispered, cupping his cheek. "We swear it." Elana's voice, though tired, was warm. "The fragment is gone. You are free of him, Harry. You are whole."
Mizukume laid her hand over his heart and murmured, "And your soul sings again, little one. It sings a beautiful song." The girls gathered around him, soothing him, holding him, letting the resonance between their hearts guide them. In the quiet of Buckingham Palace, under the ever-watchful gaze of stars and wards alike, a little boy finally slept without fear. And the Bound watched over him, radiant in their devotion.