After Gabriel woke up from the first night of uninterrupted sleep since he came from Hogwart, he refused to open his eyes even when his sleeping chamber started giving him a bath. After it was done he still took a few moments to stay with his eyes closed while enjoying the warmth of it.
When he did open his eyes, the first thing he saw was a pair of warm brown ones peering down at him through the soft shimmer of the pod's glass.
"Good morning, birthday boy."
The translucent shell of the chamber peeled open with a whisper, letting in the cool air of the cave-house. Eloá was already standing by his side, dressed - as had already become common - in her peculiar mixture of elegance and severity: a black blouse with lace cuffs, high collar trimmed in silver thread, and a long blue skirt that brushed the stone floor when she moved. Her dark hair was tied back by a ribbon that matched her clothes, and a small crystal pendant glowed faintly against her neck.
Floating beside her was a tray. On it, a still-steaming tapioca filled with melted cheese and shredded chicken, and a tall glass of orange juice that caught the morning light filtering through the enchanted ceiling - light that wasn't really sunlight, but a simulation of it.
She smiled. "Breakfast in bed, as promised."
Gabriel yawned, sitting up as the pod - which had been adjusted to stay in a diagonal laying position instead of the previous standing one as a result of him getting used to his much more normal bed at Hogwarts. He grinned, accepting the tray. "Thanks, Mom."
"You're welcome, meu anjo," she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
-~=~-
By midmorning, the air inside the house was buzzing with motion.
The two of them stood in the clearing outside, wands in hand. Gabriel was still barefoot, his hair a mess, while Eloá looked as poised as ever - her long skirts gliding over the mossy ground, her silver rings flashing whenever she flicked her wand.
"Since you missed São João this year," she said, her voice echoing lightly under the curved ceiling of the cavern entrance, "we're doing it now. Birthday and Holiday together."
He brightened. "You're serious?"
"Completely. Now help me with the banners."
She raised her wand and traced a circle in the air. From its center burst a ribbon of light that split into dozens of colorful bandeirolas, their colors deep and saturated - crimson, gold, indigo, emerald. They floated into the air and began to arrange themselves along the edges of the glass façade, anchoring on invisible points as if obeying a conductor's rhythm.
Gabriel followed suit, though he was still far from managing a conjuration like that, instead he levitated a large rock from the ground nearby and using a quick transfiguration to turn it into his own series of festive props - though his came out uneven and a little smoky at the edges.
"Yours look like they've been left over the bonfire," Eloá teased.
He snorted. "Artistic choice."
She laughed softly and repaired his work with a delicate wave.
Slowly, the clearing began to change.
Eloá charmed the trees at the edges of the forest to hang long threads of glowing orbs - hovering lights that imitated old lanterns, flickering softly with blue fire.
Gabriel transfigured a circle of flat stones in the center of the clearing into the base of a bonfire, though the logs were not yet placed over it. Around the area, he placed benches from transformed rough-hewn wood which his Mum then wrapped them in protective enchantments against heat. The smell of pine and old stone filled the air as the magic settled.
"Too rustic?" Gabriel asked, eyeing their work.
"Just enough. São João is supposed to feel alive, not elegant."
He blinked. "You're saying that while wearing half of a Victorian funeral dress."
Eloá gave him a sidelong glance that was both amused and sharp. "My own elegance is not up to debate."
Inside the house, the decorations continued. The living room - already a mix of stone walls and modern glass - transformed under their combined spells. Colored flags stretched from one end to the other, forming a bright canopy under the arched ceiling. The glass wall at the front charmed into an amber hue reminiscent of a Brazilian dusk, and the faint sound of crickets, which Gabriel was pretty sure were fake, began to echo somewhere near the artificial lake.
Above the stairs, Eloá charmed floating candles to take the shape of tiny stars, each leaving a soft silver trail that faded into sparks. Gabriel animated the bandeirinhas to sway to a rhythm playing on the radio — not the proper forró yet, but a gentle beat to keep himself entertained as he worked. It echoed faintly through the upper floors, through his room, through the still-locked door to the laboratories below.
"Feels a bit weird, doesn't it?" he said after a moment, looking out at the clearing. "Decorating for a Brazilian festival in the middle of the British woods."
"Does it?" Eloá asked, without looking up from the charm she was weaving into a garland. "Magic erases distance, meu amor. If you close your eyes, you can be anywhere."
He did - and for a moment, the scent of wet moss gave way to the memory of sugarcane juice and hot earth.
He opens them when he hears a snort, his Mum looking at him with her eyes crinkled in mirth, a hand over her mouth. "I was being literal," she says, barely holding back a laugh, "We can apparate, you know?" He threw a cushion at her face.
By the time the last chain of flags was hung their cave-home had been completely remade.
The clearing glowed softly with multicolored lights, the surface of the lake reflecting streaks of green and red. Fairies drifted curiously out of their little houses, tugging at the new ribbons and lanterns, whispering in chitters among themselves in bell-like tones.
Eloá looked around with her arms crossed, satisfied. "There. We'll cook in the afternoon, and then at night we'll light the fire and dance until dawn."
-~=~-
They had barely gotten five minutes of rest after lunch when Eloá stood in the middle of the living room, clapping her hands once.
"Time to work, birthday boy."
Before Gabriel could ask what she meant, she was already throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, the emerald flames roaring to life. "Diagon Alley!" she said brightly, and stepped in.
He sighed, grabbed his satchel, and followed after her.
-~=~-
Two hours later, the clearing in front of their home looked like a marketplace had exploded in it. Sacks of corn, sugar, peanuts, sweet potatoes, cassava, milk bottles, and spices were piled everywhere. Eloá stood surveying it all with a look of predatory satisfaction.
"I think this might be a bit too much for two people," Gabriel muttered, trying to keep the balance of three milk bottles under each arm.
"Nonsense," she replied. "If we're going to celebrate properly, we'll celebrate. And no one ever complained about leftovers."
He grinned despite himself. "Well, I can't argue with that."
-~=~-
By mid-afternoon, they had invaded the First Underground Floor - Eloá's potion laboratory - for the need of the sheer number of stoves, cauldrons, and burners available.
The usually sterile air of alchemy and herbs was now thick with the scent of caramelized sugar, grated corn, and boiling milk. Cauldrons that once held volatile draughts now bubbled with mungunzá and curau. A long worktable had been transfigured into a counter where trays of pamonha waited to be steamed in their corn husks, and charm-driven spoons stirred arroz doce in perfect rhythm.
"Never thought I'd make pamonha in a potion lab," Gabriel said, his arms deep in a bowl of dough for a corn cake.
Eloá chuckled, glancing up from where she was crushing roasted peanuts for paçoca. "If you can brew a Wiggenweld Potion here, you can cook a proper São João feast. The principles aren't so different."
"I don't remember Snape using this much condensed milk."
"That's because he lacks taste," she said crisply.
-~=~-
Hours passed in a haze of warmth and laughter.
A tapioca cake was cooling near a bluefire brazier, its coconut scent wafting through the lab. Cuscuz and cooked corn steamed on enchanted grates that floated over a low fire, while pé de moleque hardened into brittle squares under a cooling charm.
Every surface was occupied - a riot of yellow, white, gold, and caramel hues under the flickering light. Gabriel's hair was stuck to his forehead, his shirt dotted with flour and bits of cornmeal, but he was smiling wide, humming softly as he stirred another pot.
Eloá, pristine as always despite the chaos, was carefully levitating trays to rest over the cool stone counters. Her sleeves were rolled up - which for her was already an act of domestic rebellion - and her face was faintly flushed from the heat.
When the last pan was set to simmer, she flicked her wand and dimmed the flames. "Enough for now. Let the magic and the fire finish the work."
Gabriel stretched, his back popping audibly. "Finally."
-~=~-
They stepped out into the porch, escaping the heat. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, painting golden stripes over the clearing. A soft breeze carried the smell of sugar from below.
Gabriel sat on the steps, exhaling deeply, but the smile didn't leave his face.
"Having fun, meu anjo?" she asked, leaning against the railing.
He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't think cooking all day would feel like a birthday thing, but I like it."
She smiled, eyes half-lidded in amusement. "Good. Then you won't mind a little more work."
He blinked. "Wait, what?"
She pointed toward a dry, leafless tree a few meters away. "You can cut some firewood for the bonfire. I prepared that one for you earlier."
He groaned. "Me and my big fucking mouth."
"Language," she said lightly, though her grin betrayed her amusement.
Gabriel stood up and took out his wand, pointing it toward the tree and starting to cast, "Diffin-"
"Ah-ah," she interrupted, wagging a finger. "No magic directly on the tree."
He dropped his shoulders and let out the longest sigh imaginable, then blew a raspberry at her. With a stubborn look, he pointed his wand at a nearby rock.
"Ascifors!"
The rock shimmered and stretched, twisting into the form of a comically oversized axe. His grin returned immediately.
"Oh, that's wicked."
He hefted the weapon, swinging it experimentally around him. He deepened his voice as much as he could, saying "Tell me, Conan! What is best in life?", he set into a pose, the axe head on the floor and both hands over the end of the handle, looking out to the distance with puckered lips, "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women."
Eloá sat on the porch railing, resting her chin on one hand, watching him with barely concealed laughter. For a few minutes, he swung and twirled the axe dramatically, soon falling into the fantasy of fighting some imagined monster.
When she finally spoke, her voice was full of feigned baby-talk. "Can the widdle warrior pwease cut the monstew twee so we can get inside?"
He froze mid-swing, blushing furiously. "Mom!"
She chuckled, her laughter echoing through the clearing.
He stuck his tongue out at her but began chopping the tree for real - thick logs falling to the ground one by one. He called back to learning to do this with Hagrid after the whole dragon incident - the fellow half-giant was a friendly person, and Gabriel would often jog down to his hut when he didn't have much to do or Hermione was lost inside her head in some of her worse sessions. Once, he caught him chopping firewood with the axe he left on the outside of the hut and asked if Hagrid could teach him, which the much bigger man quickly and happily did.
Once he got done, he placed the wood in a neat box-shaped pile, throwing inside the smaller pieces that didn't fit or that he broke during the process.
"Incendio," he muttered, and a jet of fire leapt from his wand. The wood caught instantly, the first small flames of their evening celebration dancing in the light breeze.
"Good work," Eloá said, stepping beside him. "Now go and take a bath, you're drenched."
He wiped his brow. "Aren't you going to do the same?"
"I'll watch the food and take it off the fire when it's ready," she said. Then, with a smug tilt of her chin, added, "Besides, I've long transcended such mortal inconveniences."
She waved her hand, and the sweat, stains, and wrinkles on her clothes vanished instantly.
Gabriel stared at her flatly, then pointed at her chest. "You missed a spot."
She looked down - and he flicked her nose with his finger.
"Ow! Gabriel!" she yelped, indignant.
He was already sprinting toward the door, laughing. Her scandalized squawk followed him all the way into the house.
-~=~-
Steam still drifted from Gabriel's hair as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The floor under his bare feet was cool, and the mirror across from him was fogged - except for a clear circle where his reflection peered back.
He paused, tilting his head. Training with his mother had changed him more than he'd realized. The baby fat that had rounded his face was giving way to stronger lines, his shoulders broader, arms already showing more muscle definition than they should for a boy his age. Still, the remaining softness kept him looking like an oversized kid more than anything.
Grinning, he flexed dramatically. "Now get those biceps," he whispered, blowing a kiss at his reflection.
Then, as he struck another heroic pose, his grin faded. His sclera turned black, inky and absolute, swallowing the whites of his eyes. The change lasted only a heartbeat before fading back to normal, leaving him staring at himself, chest tight.
He sighed. "…Happy birthday, me."
With that, he shook his head and walked out.
-~=~-
Downstairs, Eloá was in full motion. The kitchen table had been magically stretched to twice its size, every inch laden with dishes still steaming and glittering under the warm light. The air was a paradise of sweet corn, sugar, and cinnamon.
Gabriel crept closer, fingers inching toward a tray of paçocas. only to get a sharp "slap" to the top of his hand.
"Ah!" He screamed exaggeratedly, looking at his mom with the best puppy dog eyes he could manage.
Eloá didn't even look up. "Don't you dare. You'll ruin your appetite."
He pouted. "But it's my birthday."
"Which means I get to decide when you start eating, meu filho. I left your clothes upstairs. Go get dressed."
He saluted with mock seriousness. "Yes, ma'am."
As he turned away, he glanced over his shoulder - she was facing the opposite direction, humming softly. Perfect.
He snatched one of the desserts, grinning victoriously as he threw it into his mouth and started jogging up the stairs.
A sharp 'zap!' hit him square on the backside.
"Ow!" He jumped two steps at once, trying to outrun the punishment. "That's domestic abuse!"
Another stinging hex landed on his other cheek for good measure, and he bolted the rest of the way up, muttering curses under his breath.
-~=~-
In his room, Gabriel rubbed at the affected area, scowling. "Honestly… such a violent woman."
But the irritation faded quickly as he spotted the clothes laid neatly on his bed.
He dressed quickly, curiosity turning into amusement at what his mother had picked out. Tight dark jeans patched with bits of fabric, a leather belt with a bronze buckle, a black-and-blue checkered shirt that fit snugly around his chest and arms, black high leather boots, and - of course - a cowboy hat.
He turned toward the mirror again, tipping the hat over his eyes. "Now this," he said, striking a confident pose, "is style."
Swaggering theatrically, he walked down the stairs.
"So," he said, lowering his voice to an exaggerated drawl, "how do I look?"
There was a snort behind him - not from his mother.
Then, a warm, teasing female voice said, "Adorable."
Followed by a velvety one adding, "Absolutely delicious."
Gabriel froze mid-step.
He blinked once. Twice. Then, very slowly, began to turn back toward the stairs.
Before he could take more than three steps, his shirt collar tightened. His feet left the floor.
"Ohgodletmedie-" he said weakly as he floated down into the living room.
Eloá's smirk was radiant as she flicked her wand again, sending his hat spinning into her hand.
The moment his face was uncovered, a chorus of voices erupted:
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Gabriel blinked. The entire living room was packed with people.
There was Hermione barreling toward him in a flurry of bushy hair and enthusiasm. She collided into him with a hug that nearly knocked the air out of his lungs.
"Happy birthday, Gabriel! Your mom sent me a letter asking who your friends were so she could invite everyone - and she let me coordinate it, you know? Oh it was such a-"
He smiled, half in disbelief, half in joy. "You… what?"
"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, grinning.
He looked around, taking in the crowd. Ron Weasley stood beside his mother, Molly, who was the one who had called him adorable. Near them were Padma and Parvati Patil with a gentle-looking young man who could have been either their father or a much older brother. Neville Longbottom was there too, with his burly uncle; Susan Bones stood chatting beside her aunt Amelia, and Hannah Abbott was waving shyly next to them. Further off were Seamus Finnigan and his exasperated mother, Michael Corner and Sue Li from Ravenclaw, and - oddly enough - Blaise Zabini, who offered a lazy nod when Gabriel caught his eye.
He blinked again, beaming now. "You guys actually came."
"Of course I did," said Ron. "Wouldn't miss a chance to stuff my face with yankee food."
"It's Brazilian," corrected Hermione.
"Same difference," Ron said.
-~=~-
It didn't take long for the adults to drift toward one side of the room, chatting over enchanted mugs of quentão, while the kids claimed the rest of the house for themselves.
The enchanted ceiling flickered to resemble a clear night sky full of stars, and fairy lights danced across the beams, illuminating the impromptu arraial that Gabriel and his mother had prepared.
Soon, laughter filled the cave-home.
Padma and Parvati helped set up a sack race that quickly devolved into chaos when Seamus sneakily tried to charm his bag to move faster and ended up upside-down.
Ron challenged Gabriel to an eating contest at the dessert table, which he promptly accepted. The two of them had their for about three minutes until Molly and Eloá stormed over, both delivering synchronized scoldings.
Hermione, Susan, and Hannah organized a round of "fishing" using magical floating fish that flopped around midair, which caused Neville to scream and accidentally knock over an entire plate of pé de moleque, much to Ronald's indignation.
Michael Corner and Sue Li were trying - and failing - to dance quadrilha properly following the tape playing on the TV, much to the amusement of Blaise, who stood off to the side sipping juice and pretending he was far too dignified for such things - until Padma dragged him in by the arm and got him to make as much a fool of himself as the other pair.
And for the first time in... forever, really , their house - this quiet sanctuary carved into a mountain - felt full. The laughter of friends echoed through the clearing, spilling out past the glass wall into the forest beyond.
-~=~-
The bonfire had burned high and golden for hours, filling the clearing with the scent of roasted corn, sugar, and smoke. Sparks climbed into the night sky like tiny shooting stars, and the laughter of his friends carried softly through the forest.
Gabriel sat cross-legged near the fire, a half-eaten ear of corn skewered on a stick. Beside him, Neville carefully rotated his own cob with almost scientific precision, while Ron, ever impatient, had already charred his beyond recognition.
"Mate," Gabriel said, stifling a laugh, "I think you've invented a new type of coal."
Ron squinted at the blackened thing. "I just like mine well done," he said, trying to bite it anyway and immediately regretting the decision.
Gabriel snorted, then leaned back, enjoying the warmth on his face. Around them, people danced and played; inside his home he saw Hermione was deep in conversation with his mother. He took a better look. Hermione had produced a notebook from somewhere, quill flying furiously across the pages as Eloá spoke with her usual effortless grace. The older witch gestured elegantly, her expression animated, her dark hair glinting blue in the firelight.
"There's no way that girl managed to find herself a lecture to attend during a party." he murmured incredulously.
But his eyes didn't stay on her for long.
Beside Eloá stood another woman - Blaise's mother.
Her skin gleamed a deep bronze in the firelight, and her eyes caught it like molten gold. Her black curls framed her face like a crown, threaded with delicate golden chains that shimmered whenever she moved. Her outfit - a black and gold ensemble trimmed in red - left very little to the imagination. She wasn't just beautiful; she was dangerously beautiful, the kind of beauty that felt illegal.
Gabriel blinked once. Then twice.
And realized he'd stopped breathing.
Ron was equally transfixed, mouth slightly open. Neville's face had gone pink, his roasted corn forgotten.
"Blimey," Ron muttered. "That's his mum?"
Gabriel made a vague sound of agreement, his gaze still locked.
Then a voice, smooth and dry, cut through the spell: "Don't."
They all turned with varying levels of guild in their faces. Blaise Zabini stood behind them, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The firelight reflected faintly off his dark skin and calm, unimpressed eyes.
"W-what?" Ron stammered.
Blaise sighed, as though explaining something he'd said a hundred times before. "There are many creatures in nature," he began patiently, "that use bright colors and alluring displays to attract prey. Flowers with poison. Frogs with shining skin. Beautiful things that devour the unwary."
Gabriel lifted an eyebrow. "Are you saying your mum's like that?"
Blaise placed both hands on Gabriel's shoulders, looked him straight in the eyes, and said solemnly, "No. She's worse. She doesn't even have the decency to leave the bones behind."
Neville shuddered, eyes darting nervously toward the woman in question.
Gabriel, however, turned back toward her with an appraising look, as if considering if the trade would be worth it.
Blaise didn't even blink. "Some things in life, Moretti, are simply not worth the risk. Carnivorous, deranged women - no matter how attractive - are always one of them."
There was a heavy pause.
Then Ron whispered, "But… what a way to go, though."
Blaise groaned and rubbed his temples.
The boys fell into laughter, the fire crackling between them, throwing long shadows that danced across the grass.
And years later - long after Hogwarts, long after that nostalgic, golden summer night - Gabriel would remember Blaise's warning with perfect clarity.
He would remember it many, many times.