Date: Tuesday, January 7th, 1986
Time: 6:03 PM
Location: Buckingham Palace Gardens, London, England**
The winter sky over London had begun to darken into the indigo veil of evening, casting long shadows across the immaculately groomed gardens of Buckingham Palace. The hedges were frosted in silver, the roses enchanted against the chill, their petals gleaming like frozen rubies in the twilight. Despite the peace of the setting, Harry Potter stood alert on the snow-dusted garden path, flanked by his Bound.
He clutched at his chest, just above his heart. The Soulstone of the Bound, hidden under his thick wool coat, glowed white-hot through the fabric. "Elana...something's wrong," Harry said, his voice tight. "The Soulstone... it's warning me."
Elana's head snapped toward him, her Bands of Eternity flaring with golden urgency. "Everyone...shield formation, now!" But they were too late for stealth. A sudden burst of dark magic ruptured the wards behind the eastern perimeter, followed by the sound of Disapparition cracks...dozens of them.
From the shadows surged a hundred cloaked figures, all in worn Death Eater garb, their wands already raised. The assault was direct, fast, and unforgiving. "This is a raid," Dora snarled. "They came to kill him." But they never got the chance.
Mizukume and Ahri turned as one. Their pupils narrowed into fox slits, their magic coiling like a tempest. A brilliant aura of ancient power flooded the garden...and then their bodies shifted. Two enormous, gleaming nine-tailed foxes stood in their place, each the size of an African lion...three feet at the shoulder, five feet long, with nine swaying tails each measuring three feet and tipped with blue-white flame. Their fur shimmered with divine light as they stood over four hundred pounds of celestial muscle, claws digging into the earth.
Mizukume let out a low growl that sent a pulse of magic through the ground. "You dare come here?" Ahri bared her fangs as she growls out. "You should have stayed buried and hidden."
Before the Death Eaters could even react, Fleur and Gabrielle stepped forward, both veela fire igniting in their palms...twin orbs of pure flaming crimson energy, blazing with fury and grace. "I warned them," Fleur hissed. "I told them I would burn the world for him." Katarina exhaled through her nostrils, twin plumes of black Horntail smoke trailing from her nose as her tail lashed behind her. "Let's finish this."
The remaining Bound stepped up around Harry, hands glowing with different colors of raw, unfiltered magic. Spells lit on their fingertips, each a unique signature of the soul bonded heart it came from. A wind stirred...too early, a twig snapped, a wand lifted, That was all it took. The Bound unleashed hell.
Mizukume and Ahri leapt forward, twin blurs of white and gold, slamming into the Death Eater front lines with a force that cracked bone and splintered earth. Foxfire spilled in arcs as their tails whirled like blades, sending bodies flying. Fleur hurled her flaming orbs into the center mass of the enemy formation. Screams erupted as robes caught fire and curses detonated in mid-air. Gabrielle mirrored her sister, her smaller size belying the raw heat she wielded. "Stay away from my Harry!" she shrieked, voice thick with veela rage. Katarina roared, her dragon breath igniting the air in a black-gold inferno that turned spells to ash and shields to slag. Dora, Susan, and Penny fired off wave after wave of controlled magical bolts, casting barriers, disarms, and stunning hexes with merciless precision. Hermione stood over Harry, casting shield after shield...blue, violet, gold, layer after layer to ensure he would not be touched. Daphne's magic danced like frost...piercing spells and slowing waves of ice that shattered limbs and froze wands in hand.
Amelia Bones and the Royal Magical Guard entered the fray moments after Mizukume and Ahri transformed, but the moment they saw the power the Bound unleashed...they stopped cold, watching in silent disbelief. Ten minutes, that's how long it took for the one sided battle to end, and by the end, ninety-nine of the Death Eaters were dead...burned, frozen, shredded, stunned, blasted apart…but only one remained, he fell to his knees near the fountain, bleeding from a shattered leg and missing an arm. The Dark Mark on the ruined limb still shimmered but faded a few seconds later. Mizukume and Ahri, still in full fox form, approached from opposite sides...growling, eyes glowing, jaws bared. "I-I surrender!" he screamed, trembling. "Please...I'll talk!" Amelia walked forward slowly, her wand steady, eyes hard. "Then speak."
"They knew!" he shouted, blood staining his teeth. "We were sent because someone gave it to us. The information...the ritual, the names, the location! It came from inside the Ministry!" Elana's eyes narrowed. "Who?" The Death Eater sobbed. "Theodore Nott, Senior! He's been feeding intel to the old circle. He told us everything. The Soul-Bound...he said you'd all be vulnerable!"
The garden went silent. Amelia looked to the Queen's Guard commander, her voice cold as steel. "Secure him. Get him under Veritaserum. Then disappear him into the Black Vault." One of the royal officers approached the Queen's private liaison, bowing low. "Her Majesty requests your recommendation for action, Lady Bones." Amelia didn't even blink. "Covert retaliation. Full authorization. He dies screaming."
Time: 8:12 PM
Location: Royal Magical Strategy Chamber, Buckingham Palace, London, England**
The chamber beneath Buckingham's East Wing had not been used in nearly thirty years. It had once served as a war room for the Second World War's magical shadow conflict, its walls steeped in old wards, sound barriers, and command-level enchantments. Tonight, it was alive once more.
A single long table of dark ironwood sat at the center, surrounded by thirteen chairs of deep navy leather. Flickering torches lit the corners, casting gold and blue light over the union of old stone and polished brass. On the far wall, the royal crest shimmered with active enchantments, subtly layered with both magical and mundane protective sigils.
At the head of the table sat Queen Elizabeth II, regal and composed, dressed in formal attire with a magical veil woven into her sash...a quiet signal to those in the room that this was not a diplomatic meeting, but a war council. To her right sat Amelia Bones, dressed in Ministry blue, her silver pince-nez perched low on her nose, wand in a shoulder holster, face grim.
Opposite Amelia, seated between Elana Hogwarts and Hermione, was Harry Potter, barely five years old but now healed and whole...his legs crossed neatly under the table. Nestled against his sides on either end, their heads resting gently in his lap, were Mizukume and Ahri in their compact Nine-Tailed Fox forms, now the size of Great Danes. Their glowing eyes flicked toward anyone who spoke, but they remained still, calm...and watchful.
Harry's hand gently stroked Mizukume's fur as he whispered softly, "You both feel warm... like family." "We are your family," Ahri murmured through their link, her 9-tails flicking in contentment. The remaining Bound filled the chairs flanking Harry, their Bands of Eternity glowing faintly under the torchlight. Each of them wore clean, formal robes...deep hues of midnight, indigo, or forest green...with subtle protective enchantments. Fleur's dress bore the fire-sewn seal of the Veela Coven. Dora's uniform was charmed Auror leather. Susan's was Ministry-cadet black. Gabrielle sat in a highchair beside Hermione, her wide eyes alert but sleepy.
Across from them stood a group of twelve figures, split evenly: Six Hit Wizards, elite agents of the DMLE, enchanted in lightweight tactical robes and armed with short-focus dueling wands, each marked with Amelia's sigil. And six Magical SAS soldiers, members of the Royal Magical Division, bearing enchanted battle harnesses over their camouflaged robes. Their eyes were hard. Their voices are silent.
Amelia stood, and the room hushed. "This is no longer a matter of defense," she said, her voice ringing through the chamber. "The attack today was not random. It was deliberate, orchestrated by internal betrayal. We've confirmed it through Veritaserum."
She tapped her wand against the black table surface, revealing an enchanted document that unfurled like parchment in the air. "The traitor is Theodore Nott, Senior. Wizengamot Elder. Pureblood aristocrat. He has been in correspondence with Death Eaters for months...specifically sending intelligence on the Soul-Bound, on Harry Potter, and on the royal magical protections of this palace."
"Why?" Hermione asked, her voice tight. "What would he gain?"
"Power," Elana said bitterly. "In his eyes, our bond is a threat. A force he cannot control. And so, he moved to destroy it." Queen Elizabeth nodded once. "And now we shall return the favor." She turned to the magical operatives. "You will receive direct support from the Ministry of Magic, this Council, and the Palace itself. You will make this man vanish...permanently. And when you leave his body, you will leave this."
Amelia waved her hand, and a small envelope appeared. Upon it was the Royal Crest of House Windsor, the seal of the DMLE, and a parchment inside that read simply: "For treason. For blood spilled. For breaking the sacred law of protection under magical sanctuary…Punament: Death is justice."
Dora stood and nodded. "We'll plant the message on the body after extraction." Katarina's voice was low, laced with a dragon's rumble. "I want to be there. Let me burn the mark from his arm." "I second that," Fleur said sharply, Veela fire already dancing in her eyes. "No," Amelia said calmly. "This is a professional strike. Swift. Silent. We are not brutes."
"Let the world see what happens to traitors," said Elana. "Let them fear striking at Harry again." The Queen raised a hand, silencing the room. "There will be no official record. No trial. No ceremony. This is retaliation under the Crown's shadow authority. But there will be a message."
She turned to Harry. "My grandson," she said gently. "You are the victim of this man's betrayal. What is your wish?" Harry looked down at Mizukume and Ahri, then slowly rose to his feet. The Soulstone of the Bound pulsed beneath his shirt, his voice soft, but unwavering. "I don't want revenge. I want peace. But people like him...they won't stop unless someone makes them. I want him gone. I want the world to know that my Bound will never be hurt like that again."
He looked Amelia in the eye. "Make sure he understands why he died." Amelia bowed her head. "So it is ordered." Operation Judgment Flame was greenlit at 8:56 PM, twelve operatives would depart by a secured Portkey at dawn, Their target would never see sunrise, And the Bound of Harry James Potter would sleep in safety...knowing that this time, the darkness would not be forgiven.
Date: Wednesday, January 8th, 1986
Time: 4:02 AM
Location: Edge of Nott Family Grounds, West Dorset, England**
The forest pressed tight against the shadows, dense with winter frost and silent under the waxing crescent moon. The tall black iron gate of Nott Manor stood two hundred meters beyond the treeline, enchanted and ancient, ringed with wards that once might have deterred enemies. Tonight, they failed.
Twelve shadows moved as one, cloaked in concealment magic, wearing black tactical robes with no insignia, faces marked only by enchanted half-masks that filtered air and blurred magical signature trails. Six bore the unmistakable bearing of Hit Wizards...elite enforcers of magical law. The other six were the Magical SAS, soldiers handpicked from the Royal Magical Division. They carried military-grade spellstaves on their backs, high-focus wands sheathed in wrist rigs, and carried enchanted breaching charges in case the manor resisted a silent entry.
At their center, directing with crisp hand signals and silent spell light, was Commander Alaric Thorne, Ministry Black Ops liaison and veteran of Grindelwald's final years.
"Confirmation," he whispered through the magical relay. "Target residence secure. No wards detected beyond the interior lattice. We breach in sixty seconds." The team split into triads, slipping along the hedgerows, moving with the precision of military ghosts.
Time: 4:09 AM
Location: Interior, Nott Manor...Wiltshire Study
The door gave way with a silent shimmer as the lock and magical ward collapsed under the specialist's touch. Two operatives swept the hallway, then nodded. They were in, inside the manor was opulence wrapped in rot. Dusty velvet curtains. Ancestral portraits whose eyes didn't even blink. Shelves of tomes, most sealed with curse glyphs long faded into dormancy. But what mattered was the study, and the figure sitting at the desk with a cup of still-steaming tea was the target Theodore Nott, Senior.
He looked up as the door opened...and had just enough time to register the dozen armed figures before a silent Stunner hit him squarely in the chest. He collapsed sideways out of his armchair with a thud. Two agents swept the room, casting detection wards. The lead Hit Wizard...Agent Marrow...froze as he reached the mahogany writing desk. "Sir. You'll want to see this." Thorne stepped over and narrowed his eyes.
Laid out atop the desk was a freshly laundered set of Death Eater robes, still wet, steaming faintly as if pulled directly from an enchanted cleaning sink. The dark hood was folded precisely beside a bone-white mask, its eye sockets hollow and expressionless. On the far corner of the desk, a silver dagger lay untouched...still sheathed in fine dragonhide, but stained faintly with dried blood on the handle.
"Confirmation. This is fresh," Marrow said. "He was about to redress himself. Likely expecting orders." Thorne nodded sharply. "We leave it all. Don't disturb it. It's more powerful that way."
He pulled out a sealed scroll from a concealed pouch and walked over to Nott's unconscious form. With surgical precision, he affixed the parchment to the man's left hand using a minor sticking charm. Then, with a flick of his wand, he conjured a single red wax seal emblazoned with the Royal Crest, the DMLE sigil, and an ancient glyph meaning Betrayer.
He turned to the team. "Final orders. Make it loud." Two operatives raised their wands. "Avada Kedavra." The green light consumed Theodore Nott without so much as a twitch. His body fell limply to the floor beside the still-wet robes and the ceremonial mask. They left the chamber just as it was. Message in was a opened hand with the Mask and dagger beside him and the Tea still warm.
Time: 5:03 AM
Location: East Wing, Buckingham Palace, London, England
Harry sat in the cushioned alcove overlooking the frost-touched gardens. The Soulstone of the Bound beneath his shirt glowed faintly...not from danger, but from peace. Mizukume and Ahri sat at his feet in their fox forms, tails curled against him like a second blanket. Dora entered first, followed by Amelia Bones and Elana. The mission had concluded. "It's done," Amelia said softly. "He didn't even get a word out."
Harry looked up slowly. "And the message?" Elana smiled gently. "Left on his hand. Mask beside him. Exactly like we planned." Fleur, from across the room, nodded in satisfaction. "Then the world will know what happens to those who cross the Bound."
"I don't want to kill," Harry whispered, his voice a little hoarse. "But I won't let them hurt us again." Amelia knelt beside him, placing a warm hand over his. "That, Harry, is the difference between justice... and vengeance. Tonight, you chose justice."
And with that, the night closed not in mourning, but in quiet strength. The Bound was safe. The betrayer was dead. And the fire of the Soulstone still burned bright.
Date: Wednesday, January 8th, 1986
Time: 11:30 AM
Location: High Chamber of the Wizengamot, Ministry of Magic, London, England**
The enchanted stained-glass windows of the Wizengamot High Court were shrouded in magical shadow, allowing only thin shafts of cold daylight to spill across the polished obsidian floor. The great amphitheater-like chamber was silent but for the occasional rustle of parchment or the soft clink of a silver signet ring tapping against a wand rest.
Seated at the center dais beneath the crest of the Four Founders was the Chief Warlock's Chair...empty this morning. Instead, Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stood at the central platform, flanked by two royal officials bearing sealed scrolls. At her back, the crest of the Crown of England shimmered beside the magical seal of the DMLE.
"The court is now in emergency session," intoned the Clerk. "Charges of High Treason, Conspiracy to Murder, and Direct Assault on the Royal Magical Family and the Heir to the Throne are under review." A low murmur rippled through the ancient bloodlines gathered around the upper tiers...Malfoy, Shacklebolt, Longbottom, Parkinson, Greengrass, and more. Some held tense expressions. Others, calculating. A few, truly frightened.
Amelia did not waste time. "You will each be shown the truth." She raised her wand and conjured a Pensieve Memory Projection, its contents streaming like silver fog into the air above the floor. The memory began. Buckingham Palace Gardens. Twilight. A hundred black-robed Death Eaters surged from the shadows. Spells rained from their wands. And then…They stopped as the projection turned violent.
Mizukume and Ahri exploded into motion...twin celestial foxes the size of Great Danes now, but the recording revealed their full-size forms first...towering lion-sized beasts with nine radiant tails. The court gasped as the girls unleashed foxfire, Veela flame, dragon smoke, and pure magical blasts that split the attackers like wheat under a scythe. Fleur, Gabrielle, and Katarina tore through enemy formations with grace and fire. Hermione, Dora, Penny, Susan, Daphne, and Elana worked with lethal precision.
In ten minutes, it was over. Bodies littered the frost-covered earth. Only one Death Eater lived…well it was just long enough to confess. His words echoed again in the court: "Theodore Nott, Senior. He gave us the intel...he told us where to strike."
Amelia turned to the assembly, lifting a parchment sealed in both royal wax and Ministry glyphs. "This was left on the body of Lord Nott at his estate. He was killed before sunrise this morning by Her Majesty's authority." The memory shifted again...now to a second projection. The study of Theodore Nott, Senior. On the desk: A wet Death Eater robe. A bone-white mask. A ceremonial dagger. His body was slumped on the floor, eyes open, a message stuck to his hand by a glowing seal of House Windsor and the message read: "For treason. For blood spilled. For breaking the sacred law of protection under magical sanctuary…Punament: Death is justice."
The Wizengamot chamber fell utterly silent. Lord Greengrass stood slowly. "I knew Nott for years. I believed he had reformed...but I was wrong." Lucius Malfoy paled but said nothing as if hiding something or was terrified at what he was seeing. Lady Shacklebolt murmured aloud, "One hundred Death Eaters were stopped by twelve children," only to get "Not children," said Elana, who had entered behind Amelia and now stood straight and proud. "They are the Soul-Bound of Harry James Potter. And they will protect what remains of this kingdom. If this court is wise, it will do the same."
A long silence followed. Then, Lord Arcturus Black, oldest member of the Court and a man whose eyes had seen war, leaned forward with his knotted hand on the edge of his desk. "I propose," he rasped, "a formal recognition of the Soul-Bound by the Wizengamot. Let the magical world know that this House stands with the heir of Hogwarts...and the soul of Albion."
Dozens of nods followed. Some are reluctant. Others are solemn. But all aware that history had already moved forward. And the court? It could only follow.