Harry moved quickly through the dim corridors of Gringotts, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous tunnels.
The goblin escort rapped his knuckles against the door twice before stepping aside. And a moment later, the door creaked open, letting Harry inside.
Grimbok was sitting, his sharp eyes flicking up from a document the moment Harry entered. "Potter," he greeted, voice rough with disuse. "You've come earlier than expected."
"I have something urgent," Harry replied, stepping forward. He flicked his hand behind him, sealing the door shut. "I assume your office is secure?"
Grimbok snorted. "More secure than any place in this forsaken bank. Not even your Dumbledore could eavesdrop here."
Harry gave a small nod before pulling the locket from his pocket. Even with his magic wrapped around it, shielding its effects, he could feel the presence inside. A fragment of Voldemort's soul.
Grimbok's eyes narrowed as the locket hovered above Harry's palm. "That," he murmured, "is unmistakably cursed."
"It's a Horcrux," Harry confirmed, letting the weight of the word settle in the room.
Grimbok leaned back in his chair, his sharp nails tapping against the obsidian desk. "So you found one."
"I did," Harry said, lowering the locket onto the desk. "And I need to know everything you've learned from the curse-breakers about how to destroy them."
A long silence followed.
Grimbok folded his hands in front of him. "What I have learned so far is… troubling."
Harry's stomach clenched. "Tell me."
Grimbok exhaled through his nose. "Horcruxes are designed to be near indestructible. The soul fragment within is tethered to the physical world through the vessel. The only confirmed way to break that tether is by destroying the vessel itself. Through fiendfyre, and conveniently enough basilisk venom."
Harry felt his mouth go dry. "And… what about when the vessel is a living person?"
Grimbok hesitated for a moment too long. That was all the answer Harry needed.
"So I have to die." The words left him in a croak, barely above a whisper.
Grimbok's chair scraped against the stone as he abruptly stood, his clawed hands slamming down on the desk. "No." His voice was sharp, furious. "I will not allow that."
Harry blinked at him.
"There must be another way," Grimbok snapped, pacing behind his desk, his movements agitated. "There has to be. Magic this foul, this unnatural, if it can be made, it can be undone. I refuse to accept that your death is the only solution."
Harry swallowed, forcing himself to remain steady. "Then if you find another way, I want to know immediately. Please."
Grimbok's eyes flashed. "You will be the first to know."
A heavy silence filled the room before Harry slowly reached for the locket again. With a flick of his wrist, he levitated it once more, letting it hover between them. "Then let's work on something we can control."
Grimbok eyed the locket warily. "And what do you propose?"
Harry turned it slowly, feeling the pulse of dark magic within. "What if we could use it?"
Grimbok's brows furrowed. "Use it?"
"To track the others," Harry said. "There are more Horcruxes out there. If we wait too long, they could be lost forever. But what if we could track them, use one Horcrux to locate the others?"
Grimbok's expression shifted from wary to intrigued.
"You want to use his soul against him," the goblin murmured.
Harry nodded. "If we can find a way to link them, to sense their location, we could destroy them before they're moved. Cut off every anchor he has before he even realises what's happening. The last thing we need is him putting one of them under a Fidelus."
Grimbok ran a hand down his beard, considering. "A soul is bound to each Horcrux," he muttered. "If they are all pieces of the same whole, then there should be a connection between them."
"Like a locator," Harry suggested. "Something that could map them out."
The goblin clicked his claws together, eyes gleaming. "It would require experimentation. Testing."
Harry lowered the locket. "Then do it. If it works, we can find the rest before it's too late."
Grimbok nodded sharply. "I'll begin at once. I'll contact the most skilled enchantment experts we have. If there is a way, we will find it."
Harry exhaled, feeling a flicker of something close to hope.
Grimbok studied him for a moment longer before asking, "Is that all you wished to discuss?"
"No," Harry said, shifting slightly. "There's something else."
Grimbok arched a brow.
"Tazgira," Harry said. "I need to know if she would be willing to consult on a diagnosis."
Grimbok leaned back, steepling his fingers. "A diagnosis for whom?"
"Luna."
Grimbok's interest sharpened. "Explain."
Harry hesitated before telling him everything. Luna's condition, her strong connection to magic, the possibility that something was influencing her in ways no human healer could understand. He didn't go into every detail, but he gave Grimbok enough.
The goblin listened without interruption before finally nodding. "I will ask her. I suspect she will say yes, especially for you."
Harry released a breath. That was one more step forward.
"Good," he said. "Thank you, Grimbok. I will entrust this to your care, perhaps it will be kept safe in the Birch account." Passing over the horcrux to Grimbok.
Taking it, the goblin snorted. "Don't thank me yet, Potter. We have much work to do."
Harry couldn't argue with that.
~
The sun cast long golden streaks across the uneven walls of the Rookery as Harry stepped through the front door. The house was as eccentric as ever, mismatched furniture, floating books, and the soft hum of wind chimes that seemed to ring with their own sentience. Yet, for all its usual warmth, the air inside was thick with unspoken tension.
Xeno sat in the living room, his wide silver eyes dull with exhaustion.
Harry hesitated before taking a seat across from him. "Xeno- "
Xeno's gaze flickered up. "She's always been special, you know," he murmured. "Always… different. But you already know that."
Harry nodded. "I do." He took a breath, steadying himself before continuing. "It's getting worse. You know it."
Xeno's expression crumbled.
"I thought—" His voice hitched. He swallowed and tried again. "I thought she was just… gifted. That the world saw her differently because they didn't understand her. But I should have—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I should have noticed. I should have seen what it was doing to her. Pandora always avoided speaking about it, saying that everything would be fine."
Harry was unsure of how to soften the truth. "It's not your fault," he said quietly. "We couldn't have known the extent of her gift. But I've been doing research, and I think… I think I know why it's happening."
Xeno's hands trembled. "Tell me."
Harry leaned forward. "She's an Oracle, Xeno. The last of her line. You might have had an idea, might have known some of it from Pandora. I don't think you were ever told what the consequences of such a gift carried."
Xeno stilled.
"Oracles were never meant to bear the full weight of prophecy alone, that's why they had the priestesses of Pythia to begin with. The gift was supposed to be shared between the bloodline, passed down so no one person carried too much. But Luna…" He exhaled. "She's the only one left. The magic is concentrating in her, and it's overwhelming her mind. Most Oracles—" His throat tightened. "Most don't survive for long. The burden destroys them. Destroys their minds."
Xeno made a strangled sound and buried his face in his hands. "No," he whispered, his voice breaking. "No, no, no…"
"I know it's hard to hear," Harry said, his own heart aching. "But we need to act now. If we wait too long, she—" He didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't.
Xeno sobbed quietly into his hands.
Harry let him.
Minutes passed before Xeno finally spoke, his voice raw. "What can we do?"
"I have a friend, a goblin healer," Harry said. "Her name is Tazgira. She might be able to help, but I would like your permission to take Luna to her."
Xeno hesitated.
Harry pressed on. "A wizarding healer won't be safe. If anyone finds out the full extent of her abilities, they'll have to report it. We can't risk that."
Xeno lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes searching Harry's face. "You trust this goblin?"
"With my life," Harry answered without hesitation.
Silence stretched between them before Xeno nodded, his breath unsteady. "Take her. Do whatever you must."
Before Harry could respond, a soft, dreamlike voice interrupted them.
"Daddy, don't be sad."
They both turned.
Luna stood in the doorway, her long, silvery-blonde hair floating as if caught in an unseen breeze. She smiled, but her eyes were distant, unfocused. "Mummy is sending me messages after all, she says it's going to be okay."
Harry and Xeno exchanged a look.
~
Later that evening, Harry took Luna's hand and led her through the hidden tunnels beneath Gringotts.
Grimbok greeted them outside his office, his sharp gaze softening slightly when he saw Luna. "Come child," he said, leading them deeper into the underground. "My home is this way."
Harry had been to Grimbok's private chambers once before, but stepping inside still felt like crossing into another world. The stone walls gleamed with enchanted carvings, glowing softly with runes. The warm scent of roasted meat and herbs filled the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of goblin magic.
Two small figures darted toward them.
"Harry!" Vrak exclaimed, his tusks barely poking through his lower lip.
His older brother, Morg grinned. "Did you bring human tricks?"
Harry chuckled. "I might have a few up my sleeve." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of enchanted playing cards, glad he thought to bring them for the boys, flicking them into the air where they danced in formation.
The boys let out delighted chittering sounds, swiping at the cards as they hovered.
Tazgira studied Luna with interest before nodding at Harry. "She has the look of an old soul."
"She is," Harry agreed.
Grimbok cleared his throat. "Go on, lads. Outside with you."
The children pouted but obeyed.
Once the door sealed shut with a heavy thud, Grimbok turned to Tazgira. "We should begin."
Tazgira stepped forward, her sharp eyes assessing Luna with silent scrutiny. She circled her once, then held out a clawed hand. "May I?"
Luna tilted her head, then nodded. "Of course. You have kind hands."
Tazgira hummed before placing her fingertips lightly against Luna's temples. Her goblin magic flared to life, an unseen force that shimmered in the air like heatwaves.
For a moment, all was still.
Then Tazgira's withdrew sharply, muttering in Gobbledegook.
"What is it?" Harry demanded.
Tazgira didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pulled a small vial from her robes and handed it to Luna. "Three drops of your blood, please."
Luna complied, unbothered.
Tazgira took the remainder of the potion and poured it onto a parchment scroll. The liquid seeped into the page, forming glowing symbols.
Then the symbols turned black and Tazgira inhaled sharply.
Harry's stomach knotted. "What does it say?"
Tazgira's voice was quiet, but heavy with meaning.
"The magic inside her is unravelling."
"How much time does she have?"
Tazgira's sharp eyes met his. "If left unchecked… less than five years."
The room fell into silence.
Luna, ever unfazed, smiled softly. "Well, that's inconvenient."
The air in Grimbok's home was thick with tension. The parchment still lay on the table, its symbols dark and damning. The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on Harry's chest, but he forced himself to focus. Luna was sitting serenely beside him, her hands folded in her lap as if none of this truly concerned her.
But it did.
Tazgira was still frowning at the parchment, her sharp nails tapping against the wooden surface. Finally, she looked up, her expression grim.
"There is damage," she stated, her voice carrying the certainty of one who had seen such afflictions before. "Significant damage."
Harry felt his stomach twist. "What kind of damage?"
Tazgira exhaled through her nose, her keen gaze locking onto his. "Her brain… it is bruised, quite a bit."
"It is like watching a piece of parchment crumple under a heavy hand," Tazgira continued. "The flow of magic through her is relentless, unyielding. It does not pause, does not let her rest. Her body is human, but she is carrying a burden that no human was meant to bear alone."
Harry swallowed hard, his throat dry. "How bad is it?"
Tazgira glanced at Luna, who merely tilted her head, her dreamy expression unchanged. "For now, it is manageable, but the damage will worsen. The more she uses her abilities, the more prophecies told, the more her mind will fray. If nothing is done to ease this strain, the bruising will deepen… until it reaches the point of no return."
Harry clenched his fists. "And then?"
Tazgira's voice was soft but unyielding. "Then she will no longer be Luna Lovegood."
The words sent a jolt of panic through Harry. He turned to Luna, who was still smiling, still calm. How could she be so at peace with this? Did she know what was happening to her?
Luna hummed softly, as if sensing his thoughts. "I have always known I was different, Harry. It's rather like being a leaf in the wind, sometimes I am carried along gently, and sometimes the wind howls and shakes me."
Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn't afford to panic. Not now.
"Can we do anything to help her?" he asked, looking between Grimbok and Tazgira.
Tazgira nodded slowly. "We can ease her pain for now. Healing magic will not fully erase the damage, but it will dull the worst of it. And if we can find a way to stabilise the magic within her, we may yet find a way to slow the progression of her decline."
Grimbok folded his arms. "But that is only a temporary solution. The core problem remains, her connection to the magic of the Earth itself."
Harry turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"The Oracles were not merely seers," he explained. "They were conduits. Magic flowed through them as a river flows through the land. They absorbed power from the ley lines, the very veins of magic that run beneath the earth, and through that power, they could glimpse the future. It is an ancient magic, one that has existed since before written history."
Harry frowned. "You're saying Luna is connected directly to the ley lines?"
Tazgira inclined her head. "Yes. And that is why she cannot stop seeing. The visions don't come to her because of a spell or a curse, they come because she is open to them at all times. The power flows through her constantly, filling her mind with echoes of what is to come. It's worse because the magic of her ancestors likely returned to the Earth, and now it tries to return to her."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to process this. "Can we cut the connection?"
Tazgira's expression darkened. "To sever it completely would kill her."
"But if we leave it unchecked," Harry argued, "she'll still—" He stopped himself before finishing the thought.
Grimbok leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "A void cannot be left empty, Harrison. If the connection is cut, something must take its place. Otherwise, the magic will collapse upon itself, and her body will fail. It is not simply power flowing through her, it is the very force that sustains her existence."
Harry felt cold. "So if we take it away… it will be like cutting the roots from a tree."
"Yes," Tazgira confirmed.
Tazgira turned back to Luna. "For now, we will ease the pain."
She reached into her robes and pulled out a vial of shimmering green liquid. Carefully, she poured a few drops onto her fingers before pressing them gently to Luna's temples. The goblin magic flared, a soft golden glow surrounding her fingertips.
Luna blinked slowly. Then, for the first time since arriving, she let out a small sigh.
"It feels like summer rain," she murmured.
Tazgira continued her work, her fingers moving with precise, practiced motions. The glow pulsed, and Harry could feel the magic settling over Luna, soothing the bruising within her mind. It wouldn't heal her completely, but it would grant her relief.
Harry let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," he whispered.
Tazgira inclined her head. "This will last for a time. But she will need more treatments, once a month at least. And we must find a solution before her magic consumes her entirely."
Harry met Grimbok's gaze. "Then we start searching."
Grimbok nodded. "Aye, lad. We do."
"Don't worry, Harry will save me. He always does." Luna said cheerfully.
Her words made his heart hurt, because he can't even save himself right now.
~
The cool night air of the Romanian dragon reserve hummed with magic as Harry and Tilly appeared on the outskirts. The stars above were bright, their silver glow illuminating the treetops and the rough, mountainous terrain beyond.
Tilly, ever efficient, felt for the reserve's wards. "Strong wards," she murmured, her bat-like ears twitching. "Layered deep. Old protections and new ones mixed together. This place does not like strangers."
Harry nodded, watching her work. He could feel the magic too, thrumming beneath his skin, woven through the land like an invisible net. The reserve's protections were meant to keep out intruders, alert the keepers, and, most importantly, keep the dragons from being stolen.
"Can you get us in without tripping anything?" he asked.
Tilly's face scrunched in concentration before she gave him a sharp nod. "Tilly can slip us in without waking the wards. But Master Harry must not be reckless."
Harry smirked. "Me? Reckless? Never."
Tilly gave him a look of deep disapproval before taking his hand. With a pop, they vanished, only to reappear within the reserve's boundaries, unnoticed and unseen.
Harry immediately threw his veil over them both, a soft pulse of magic washing over them as they became completely undetectable to human eyes. The moment it settled, the world around them seemed to hush.
Tilly shivered slightly. "This magic is eerie, Master Harry."
Harry chuckled under his breath. "It's useful."
Ahead of them, the flickering glow of torches marked the dragon keepers' cabins. Harry moved carefully, his steps silent against the damp earth. Then he spotted a familiar figure heading toward one of the smaller cabins. His target.
Harry followed quietly, making sure the path was clear. He felt like a stalker, which, to be fair, he kind of was at the moment, but it was for a good cause.
Charlie reached his cabin, stepping inside and leaving the door slightly ajar. Harry crept up to the threshold, listening carefully. He could hear the sounds of Charlie moving around, setting down his gloves, unlacing his boots, stretching with a groan as he relaxed after a long shift.
Perfect.
Harry slipped inside.
Charlie, unaware of his presence, ran a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, yawning as he turned toward his cot, only to be tackled from behind.
"OI—WHAT THE BLOODY—"
Charlie crashed to the floor with a heavy thud, arms flailing as he instinctively tried to throw his attacker off. But Harry was quick, laughing as he wrestled Charlie onto his stomach, gripping his wrists.
Charlie twisted, muscles flexing as he flipped them over, but Harry flicked his fingers, and magic surged forward, locking Charlie's arms in place above his head.
Charlie went still, his chest heaving. "What in Merlin's—"
Harry, still straddling Charlie's thighs, leaned forward with a cheerful grin. "I'm here to kidnap you. Please come quietly."
Charlie's brows shot up. "…Harry?!"
Harry beamed. "In the flesh."
Charlie squinted at him, his expression shifting rapidly between shock, amusement, and exasperation. "You absolute menace. I thought I was being murdered."
"Would I really murder you this charmingly?" Harry teased.
Charlie huffed. "No, but you would break into my cabin like a deranged lunatic."
Harry smirked but didn't let him go just yet. "Remember that dragon we talked about back at the Quidditch World Cup? The one being kept under Gringotts?"
Charlie's brow furrowed. "Yeah?"
"Well, I may have rescued him."
There was a beat of silence.
"…You what?"
Harry grinned. "And I need you to look him over."
Charlie stared at him, then started laughing. "Harry, are you mad?"
Harry finally released his magic, letting Charlie move. But he remained seated on Charlie's thighs, keeping him pinned.
Charlie noticed.
And very much did not comment on it.
Harry, oblivious, continued. "He's half-blind, Charlie. The goblins kept him chained for so long that it ruined his eyes. He's free now, but he needs care."
Charlie's excitement was instant. "You really rescued him? That's incredible! Where is he?"
"At my cove," Harry said. "And—" He leaned in slightly. "You'll get to meet the Hungarian Horntail's and her hatchlings."
Charlie's entire body went still. "You're lying."
Harry's smirk widened. "I did release her during the First Task. Did you think I would give her nowhere safe to go?"
Charlie sat up so fast that Harry wobbled, and before he could catch himself, Charlie grabbed his hips to steady him.
Which only succeeded in bringing them even closer together.
Harry froze.
Charlie froze.
There was a very awkward, very aware silence.
Harry, suddenly very conscious of exactly where he was sitting, turned bright red and scrambled off Charlie's lap, clearing his throat. "So! Um! Ready to go?"
Charlie chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Merlin, Harry. You really don't do anything the normal way, do you?"
Harry grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"
Charlie got to his feet, still shaking his head but clearly intrigued. "Alright, I'll bite. Show me this dragon of yours."
Harry turned to where Tilly had been hiding. "Tilly, you can come out now."
With a soft pop, the tiny elf reappeared. She looked at Charlie, then at Harry, then sighed. "Master Harry is impossible."
Charlie blinked at her. "Did you just kidnap me with house-elf magic?"
Harry shrugged. "Technically, it's more of a voluntary abduction."
Charlie just laughed, shaking his head. "Right, let's go meet this dragon of yours."
Tilly grabbed them both, and with a sharp crack, they vanished into the night.
The moment they landed at the cove's edge, Charlie sucked in a sharp breath.
The sky was a breathtaking mixture of deep purples and soft oranges as the last light of dusk faded beyond the sea. The waves glowed with the sun's dying embers, and against that backdrop, dragons soared through the sky, their great wings casting enormous silhouettes over the water.
Charlie's eyes widened as he watched them, utterly mesmerised. "Merlin's beard…" he whispered.
Harry glanced at him with a smirk. "Not what you were expecting?"
Charlie shook his head, unable to tear his gaze away. "I've never seen different breeds getting along like this. They should be fighting, dominance struggles, territory disputes." He gestured to the sky, where Nox was circling lazily with a Ukrainian Ironbelly. "They're playing."
Harry smiled softly. "They're family."
Charlie turned to look at him, eyes filled with pure wonder, but before he could say anything, something in the water moved.
Near the shore, Nox was twirling midair, her body twisting with effortless grace as she played with Altair, who was just as massive as ever, his pale scales glowing silver in the dim light.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Nox arched her body, lifted her wings and the ocean rose with her.
Water lifted into the air, swirling in elegant streams as she directed it with the flick of her tail, twisting it like ribbons before sending a playful wave straight into Altair's face.
Charlie gasped. "Did—did I just see that?!"
Harry grinned. "Yep."
Charlie whipped toward him. "That's—that's impossible."
Harry shrugged. "Nox can pull on my magic. I think because I raised her, and we're magically connected, she can tap into my elemental abilities. She's still learning, but yeah. She can control water."
Charlie gawked at him. "You're telling me you've somehow created a magic-wielding dragon?"
"Pretty much," Harry said cheerfully.
Charlie ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "I must be dreaming. There's no way. This is—" He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "Merlin."
Harry laughed, then cupped his hands around his mouth. "Altair! Come here, love!"
The moment Altair heard his voice, the massive dragon let out an excited, deep chirrup and flapped toward them, landing with a ground-shaking thud. His wings flared briefly before he tucked them in, his enormous head lowering to nuzzle at Harry immediately.
Harry grinned, running both hands over his dragon's snout, scratching just under the jaw. "There's my darling. Did you have fun?"
Altair let out a pleased rumble, pressing into his touch like a giant, overgrown puppy.
The large dragon lifted his head slightly, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. A deep, uncertain growl rumbled from his chest.
Harry immediately soothed him, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Shhh, love. It's alright." He turned slightly. "Altair, this is Charlie. He's a friend. The dragon expert I told you about."
Altair's bright, milky eyes flicked toward Charlie but didn't focus properly. His nostrils flared again, nervous. "Not a scent I know," he rumbled.
"I know," Harry said softly. "But he's going to help you, alright? I promise."
Charlie had been standing perfectly still, his hands raised slightly in a clear I am not a threat posture. His expression, however, was something close to worship.
He had spent his life around dragons. He had spent years studying them, tending to them, trying to understand their instincts and behaviour.
But never, not once, had he seen a dragon behave like this.
Altair wasn't a beast. He wasn't just a creature acting on instincts. He was acting as a person, a sentient being with emotion, with trust, with a bond.
And Harry… Harry was more than just a caretaker.
He was his mother.
The way Altair pressed into him, the way he sought comfort, the way Harry knew exactly how to soothe him… it was something almost sacred.
Charlie swallowed hard. "Harry… I—"
Harry met his eyes, patient but firm. "Before I let you continue, I need your word. You cannot tell anyone about this. Not about the dragons, not about me, not about the cove. You swear?"
Charlie didn't hesitate. "I swear." Magic pulsing between them.
Harry nodded, then turned his attention back to Altair, his voice gentle. "Are you okay with Charlie checking you over?"Altair hesitated, then lowered his head again, pressing his snout against Harry's chest. "…Mother will stay."
"I will."
Altair let out a heavy sigh. "Then… okay."
"You can speak to him, he understands most of English now." Harry said.
Charlie stepped forward carefully, his awe shifting into professional focus. He ran a hand gently over Altair's massive jaw, tilting his head slightly, ignoring the way he flinched away. "Alright, let's see how you're doing, big guy."
His fingers skimmed over the dragon's face, down his neck, over his shoulders, his expression shifting into a deep frown as he worked.
After several long moments, he exhaled, stepping back slightly. "Alright. He's definitely malnourished."
Harry stiffened. "Am I feeding him wrong?"
Charlie held up a hand. "It's improving. I can tell he's eating better now, his muscle tone is returning, but his body's still catching up. It'll take time before he reaches full strength."
Harry nodded. "And his eyes?"
Charlie's expression softened. "…He's been in darkness too long, Harry." His voice was gentle, careful. "His eyes didn't get the chance to develop properly. He's not completely blind, he can sense light, movement, some shapes, but fine details? Colours? That's… probably lost."
Harry's stomach twisted. His hand curled over Altair's snout protectively.
Altair made a soft, questioning noise.
Harry took a breath, steeling himself before asking, "His scales? Where the chains were?"
Charlie crouched slightly, running his fingers over the pale, silvery scales near Altair's legs. His frown deepened. "There's definite scarring. The chains were too tight for too long, it's damaged the underlying tissue." He sighed, looking up at Harry. "It'll heal some, but there will always be some weakness here. His scales won't be as strong in these areas."
Harry's chest ached.
He blinked rapidly, swallowing against the lump in his throat before murmuring, "Can you heal him?"
Charlie gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I can help. There are ointments and salves that will soothe the damage. It won't be perfect, but it'll strengthen the scales, help him regain some resilience."
Harry nodded firmly. "I'll pay for whatever you need. Just—" He exhaled sharply. "Just tell me what to get."
Charlie studied him for a long moment, before he smiled. "I've got you, Harry."
Harry let out a breath, running a hand over Altair's snout. "You hear that, love? We're going to try and make you better."
Altair hummed, pressing into him. "Mother always makes better."
Harry let out a soft, tearful laugh, hugging the dragon's snout as the waves crashed gently against the shore. Altair started to move away then, still uneasy about Charlie's presence.
Harry started to lead Charlie deeper into the dragons' domain.
Ahead of them, Nox circled lazily above the rocky cliffs, her sleek black body silhouetted against the moonlight. When she caught sight of Harry, she let out a delighted chirp before diving towards them, wings tucked close to her body until the last moment when she flared them open, landing with an elegant thud.
Charlie, still reeling from everything he'd seen, barely had time to react before a playful tail swiped at his legs, making him stumble.
"Oi—" He caught himself, blinking at the young dragon in front of him. "Is she always this playful?"
Harry grinned. "Nox just likes causing trouble."
Nox purred, flicking her tail smugly. "Mother's two-leg is slow. Nox won."
Charlie shot Harry a questioning look.
Harry snickered. "She thinks tripping you counts as a victory."
Charlie gave Nox a flat look. "You and your mother are menaces."
Nox chuffed, clearly pleased with herself, and then flopped dramatically onto her back, wings twitching. She fixed Charlie with an expectant gaze.
Harry groaned. "She wants belly rubs."
Charlie hesitated. "Is it safe?"
Harry smirked. "Only one way to find out."
Charlie sighed but reached out, his dragon-hide gloves barely brushing against Nox's smooth scales before she let out a pleased warble, stretching her legs like an oversized cat.
"She's too playful for a Ridgeback," Charlie murmured in awe. "They're usually so aggressive."
"Nox isn't like other Ridgebacks," Harry said simply.
Charlie nodded slowly, watching as Nox flicked her tail against Harry's legs, clearly demanding attention from him next. He crouched beside her, rubbing her snout affectionately before glancing toward the cliffs where another form was skulking...badly.
Charlie tilted his head. "Is that—?"
Harry turned, already knowing what he'd see. Altair, trying (and failing) to sneak closer to them. The massive dragon crouched low, wings tucked in, but his sheer size made 'hiding' impossible. His pale, milky eyes peeked over a boulder, tail twitching in hesitation.
Harry sighed fondly. "Altair, love, I can see you."
Altair went still.
Charlie chuckled. "Oh, he thinks he's stealthy."
He turned to the massive Ironbelly. "Come here, you don't need to protect me. You just met Charlie, he isn't going to hurt us."
Altair hesitated, then crept forward, keeping his body low, trying his best to be small, a futile effort. When he was finally close enough, he pressed his snout against Harry's shoulder, his body vibrating with a low, anxious hum.
Charlie kept still, his dragon-handler instincts kicking in. "He's so timid," he observed.
Harry nodded, rubbing the dragon's jaw reassuringly. "He's still getting used to open spaces."
Charlie's heart clenched at that. "We'll help him, Harry."
Altair turned toward Charlie, sniffing cautiously before letting out a quiet, uncertain chirp. Charlie, instinctively, offered his gloved hand. After a moment, Altair nudged it with his snout, accepting the touch without flinching now.
Harry smiled. "See? He likes you."
Altair let out another soft chirp before quickly ducking his massive form behind Harry again, still shy. Comical really, since Harry was half the width of his snout.
Charlie grinned. "Absolutely adorable."
Harry chuckled. "Come on, I have someone else for you to meet."
He led Charlie towards the nesting grounds where Lyra and her hatchlings resided. The moment they stepped closer, three small Horntail hatchlings peered out from behind their mother, eyes wide and filled with boundless energy.
One of them let out an excited squeak. "New two-leg!"
Another bounded forward before Lyra caught them gently with her tail, rumbling a warning. The hatchlings huffed but stayed put.
Charlie's breath caught. "They're beautiful."
Lyra turned her golden eyes to Charlie, sniffing the air. "This one… was one of the good false-masters."
Harry blinked before translating. "She says you were one of the good two-legs."
Charlie exhaled slowly, a small, touched smile appearing on his face. "That… means a lot."
Harry turned back to Lyra. "He's been worried about you. And your hatchlings."
Lyra huffed knowingly, flicking her tail. "Is this because you wish to impress your possible mate?"
Harry sputtered. "W-what?! No!"
Charlie arched a brow, clearly amused, but didn't interrupt.
Harry hurried to explain, face burning. "He's here to make sure Altair is healthy! That's all!"
Lyra let out a low, amused rumble. "Mmm. The fire-head two-leg certainly wants to mate with you."
Charlie looked between Harry and Lyra, while Harry groaned and covered his face.
Desperate to move on, Harry introduced them properly. "Charlie, this is Lyra. She can understand human speech if you want to say anything."
Charlie, recovering, stepped forward slightly, his expression warm. "I'm glad you and your hatchlings are safe. I'm sorry I didn't know about your stolen egg. But I won't stop looking for news about a youngling Horntail. I swear it."
Lyra studied him, then leaned in, sniffing before releasing a breath against his face. Charlie remained perfectly still, accepting the gesture.
Lyra turned to Harry. "The fire-head would be a good mate for you. Very protective. Fertile."
Harry choked. "Lyra!"
Charlie bit his lip to suppress a grin, not knowing what was said but understanding her tone.
Harry took a steadying breath before saying, "Also, male humans can't… carry eggs."
Lyra looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Dragons do not always need mates to lay eggs. Magic finds a way."
Harry gaped. "That's not how it works!"
Charlie, still grinning, clapped Harry on the back. "I don't know what she's saying but we should leave before she makes you combust from embarrassment."
Lyra, smug, curled around her hatchlings as they chirped excitedly. "I approve of this one, little mother."
Harry groaned. Charlie just laughed.
Later that night, Harry and Charlie sat near the fire pit on the beach, watching the stars. The waves lapped gently at the shore, their crackling fire casting flickering shadows on the sand.
Charlie let out a long sigh, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. "I have to admit, I'm jealous."
Harry glanced at him. "Of what?"
Charlie gestured vaguely toward the cove, toward the dragons lounging freely in the distance. "Of this. What you've built here. The way they trust you, the way they're free. Going back to the reserve is going to feel... depressing after this."
Harry was quiet for a moment before murmuring, "You could always come back, once they get used to you, they won't mind you being here."
Charlie looked at him then, before shaking his head with a small smile. "Maybe I will."
After a moment, he cleared his throat. "How do you even feed them all?"
"They hunt fish from the sea, mostly," Harry said, running his fingers absently over Altair's head. "And I buy slabs of meat when I can."
Charlie snorted. "You're wasting your money. You might as well buy a flock or a herd of animals to breed. Otherwise, your funds are going to dry up fast."
Harry blinked, looking thoughtful. "I hadn't considered that."
Charlie smirked. "Told you, I know dragons."
Silence settled between them, peaceful and easy. Then, hesitantly, Charlie broke it again. "Harry... I wanted to say... thank you."
Harry frowned slightly. "For what?"
Charlie exhaled. "For not bringing charges against my family."
Harry stiffened, his fingers stilling against Altair's scales. His voice was quiet. "I'm not a monster, Charlie."
Charlie shook his head quickly. "I didn't mean—"
Harry continued, voice soft but firm. "Ron and Molly were alone in their thefts. I had the goblins investigate. I read the reports. I saw how hard Arthur worked at the Ministry. I couldn't understand how Molly stole all that money but didn't even try to share it with her family. To ease the burden, even slightly."
Charlie swallowed thickly, listening intently.
Harry let out a humourless laugh. "I would've understood if she'd stolen because she needed to support her family. But she didn't. She hoarded it. And I decided... I'd rather make her and Ron pay it off than make the rest of your family suffer."
Charlie stared at him, wide-eyed, something warm and aching in his chest.
Before he could respond, Altair lifted his head slightly, taking a deep sniff before tilting his head. "The fire-head smells funny."
Harry blinked. "Altair.. "
Charlie let out a startled laugh, running a hand over his face. "What did he say?"
Harry scowled at the dragon. "Stop sniffing people, love."
Altair huffed, unimpressed. "But he smells different now."
Charlie was still laughing. "Do I smell?"
Harry sighed. "Let's get you back to Romania before my dragons start embarrassing me."
Charlie smirked. "Too late."
With a shake of his head, Harry called Tilly over, and moments later, with a crack of magic, they disappeared into the night.
~
Sirius stood in the middle of Grimmauld Place, his arms crossed as he surveyed the now nearly barren house. It felt... different. Lighter, somehow, without the oppressive weight of dark artifacts and lingering curses in every corner. The goblins had done a thorough job clearing everything out, leaving only the library, heavily warded at Harry's request, and for some reason, Walburga's portrait. He could only assume Harry had left her there as a particularly petty form of punishment for the Order.
The front door opened with a groan, and Sirius turned to see Dumbledore enter, followed closely by Moody, Kingsley, and a handful of other Order members. The old man's sharp blue eyes swept over the house, noting the changes immediately.
"This is… quite the alteration," Dumbledore said, disappointment evident in his tone.
Sirius smirked, leaning against the banister. "Yeah, well, the house belongs to the Black family. Or, more specifically, to Lord Black. And Lord Black had some... conditions."
Dumbledore sighed, looking far older than usual. "I had hoped Harry would be here to discuss matters with us in person."
Sirius scoffed. "Harry has no interest in the Order, Albus. He made that very clear."
Kingsley, always the diplomat, stepped forward. "What exactly are these conditions, Sirius?"
Sirius straightened, his expression turning serious as he recited Harry's message. "First, the Order can use the house as a safe house, provided they abide by certain rules. One—no damaging the property. Two—any wards or charms put up have to be approved by Harry himself. Three—no one is to attempt to enter the library. Four—none of you are allowed to order Kreacher to do anything. Five—the master's and heir's rooms are off-limits. You physically can't enter them."
Moody grunted in approval. "Sounds like he's thinking ahead. Smart lad."
Dumbledore, however, looked weary. "Is Harry truly so upset with us that he wouldn't even meet in person?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You mean, is he upset that you tried to control him? That you left him to rot at the Dursleys' and didn't expect him to fight back? That you stole from him. Yeah, I'd say he's upset."
Dumbledore's mouth tightened. "I visited the Dursleys myself, hoping to speak with him. I was disappointed to learn that he had claimed all of their assets in retaliation."
Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "You mean he took back what was rightfully his? The Dursleys stole from him for years, and now they've lost everything because of it. Sounds like justice to me."
Dumbledore looked as though he wanted to argue but held his tongue.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Harry doesn't need anything from you. He doesn't need the Order, and he doesn't need to be hidden away here like some caged animal. The fact that you couldn't find him should tell you that the Dark Side won't be able to either."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in that way Sirius had learned to mistrust. "Regardless, I intend to prepare the Fidelius Charm."
Sirius raised a brow. "Yeah, about that...you can't."
Dumbledore's brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"
"You need the owner's permission to cast a Fidelius on a property," Sirius said smoothly. "And as I said before, this house belongs to Harry."
Moody growled, "It's best to do it anyway. Security first."
Sirius' casual demeanour vanished, replaced by cold steel. "If you do anything without his permission, I'll personally throw you all out. That includes you, Albus."
Dumbledore exhaled through his nose, clearly displeased. "Perhaps, then, Harry will agree to meet with us if the matter is pressed."
Sirius sighed and waved his wand, summoning his Patronus. The great spectral dog shimmered in the dimly lit hallway, waiting for his message.
"Harry, Dumbledore wants a meeting. Says it's important. Can you come?"
The Patronus leapt away, vanishing into the air. The room was quiet for a moment before, suddenly, another Patronus appeared, a bright, silver stag that responded with Harry's voice echoed through the hall.
"Give me five minutes. Just finishing some paperwork."
There was a beat of silence as everyone stared at the dissipating Patronus.
"Impressive spellwork," Moody grunted. "Paperwork? What's the lad doing?"
Sirius ran a hand down his face, already regretting this. "…He's at the Ministry right now."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "And what, pray tell, is he doing at the Ministry?"
Sirius smirked.
The room fell into hushed whispers as they processed that.
"Five minutes," Sirius repeated. "You'll get your meeting then."
He leaned back against the wall, watching Dumbledore's carefully controlled frustration with immense satisfaction.
A sharp crack echoed through Grimmauld Place as Harry Apparated into the entrance hall, startling everyone present. Some reached for their wands, others tensed, but Harry stood there, perfectly composed, glancing around at the assembled Order members with a raised brow.
Dumbledore recovered first, his expression carefully schooled into polite disapproval. "Harry, my boy, I'm afraid I will have to report you for apparating without a license."
Harry smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You could have, five minutes ago," he said, pulling a small slip of parchment from his pocket. He flicked it toward the Headmaster, who caught it automatically. "But then I signed off on my Apparition test at the Ministry. So, unfortunately for you, no laws were broken. And its Lord Potter-Black to you."
Dumbledore's expression barely flickered, but Harry caught the briefest flash of irritation before it was smoothed over.
"Well then," Dumbledore said mildly, as he tucked the parchment into his robes. "Now that you are here, we can discuss what is best for you."
Harry's smirk vanished. "You don't get to decide what's best for me, Dumbledore. That privilege ended the day I found out you left me with the Dursleys despite knowing how they treated me."
A few of the Order members shifted uncomfortably. Kingsley's gaze remained steady, but he gave the smallest nod of approval. Others looked outright offended. Moody grunted, watching the exchange with sharp eyes.
Dumbledore sighed, clasping his hands in front of him. "I understand your frustration, but staying here at Grimmauld Place is what's safest for you. The Order can protect you—"
Harry cut him off. "Why would I trust you to keep me safe?" His voice was deceptively calm, but his magic thrummed under his skin. "You couldn't even find me when I didn't want to be found. You failed to protect my parents. You failed to protect Sirius. And you failed to protect me." He tilted his head. "Tell me again why I should trust you?"
Dumbledore's jaw tightened. His expression was still kind, but there was an edge of steel beneath it now. "Harry, I only ever acted with your best interests at heart."
Harry scoffed. "That's funny. Because to me, it looks like you only ever acted in your best interests."
A murmur went through the room. Some of the Order members looked wary, others bristled at Harry's disrespectful tone. Moody was watching intently, his magical eye fixed on Harry, while Kingsley remained unreadable.
Dumbledore exhaled slowly and changed tactics. "Be that as it may, Harry, we must discuss securing this house. I will be preparing the Fidelius Charm, with myself as Secret Keeper, and Alastor will be casting it."
Harry snorted. "No, you won't."
Dumbledore blinked, his carefully crafted patience slipping. "Pardon?"
"This house is mine," Harry said coldly. "The only reason the Order has access to it is because Remus asked Sirius. But make no mistake...this is Black property. You have temporary permission to use it. If there's going to be a Fidelius, I will be the Secret Keeper."
"That would be unwise," Moody said, his voice gruff. "It creates a hole in our defences to have someone outside the Order as Secret Keeper."
Harry smiled, cold and sharp. "Then you're welcome to find somewhere else. It would be foolish of me to allow someone to permanently hide my own property from me."
Another ripple of murmured conversation. Moody scowled, but Kingsley, ever the diplomat, tilted his head as if considering the idea.
Dumbledore, sensing the pushback, hastily agreed. "Very well. If that is what it takes to ensure the Order's safety, we will abide by your terms. But you must stay here to protect the secret."
Harry laughed. "Not on your life."
"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice laced with warning, "you must understand—"
"No, you understand," Harry interrupted, stepping forward until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the old man. "I don't have to do anything. Either you agree to my terms, or you leave." He straightened, rolling his shoulders as if brushing off the weight of the conversation. "Once the charm is cast, I'll only be here occasionally to grab a book. That's it. And I will leave your Order a parchment with the secret on it."
A few of the Order members looked outright frustrated at his defiance, but Harry could see the flicker of approval in Kingsley's gaze. Even Moody looked begrudgingly impressed.
Dumbledore, however, was less pleased. His hands tightened around the edges of his robes, his expression momentarily unreadable. But Harry could see it, the frustration, the anger barely concealed beneath his grandfatherly facade. He wasn't used to losing.
Harry smiled slowly, tilting his head as he glanced at the Order members watching them. "I'll leave you all to discuss. Let me know when you're ready for the casting."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked toward the door, ignoring the protests from Molly and a few others. As he reached the entrance, he glanced back over his shoulder at Dumbledore, whose face was carefully blank.
Harry smirked.
Check.
~
The Keep was silent when Harry arrived, the ever-present hum of ancient magic thrumming beneath his skin. He moved through the stone corridors, his fingers grazing the cool walls as he made his way toward the library.
As he stepped inside, the library greeted him with towering shelves of scrolls, bound books tucked between them, clear signs that the previous Lords had modernised the archives. He scanned the room, his emerald eyes narrowing as they landed on a section filled with strange characters, ones he didn't immediately recognise. The script had a distinct curvature to it, intricate symbols woven together like seals. He thought he recognised some of the script from the Peverell vault.
Japanese? he wondered, thinking of the techniques he'd read about in various magical disciplines. He made a mental note to return to them later. For now, he needed to focus.
He carefully unravelled an old scroll, the delicate parchment covered in Latin. The script spoke of magical theory, of leylines and soul magic. He skimmed, searching for any mention of Horcruxes.
"Searching for something in particular?"
Harry looked up, finding Ignotus standing in the library portrait, his deep-set eyes studying Harry intently.
Harry hesitated before nodding. "Yeah… I need to know about soul magic."
Ignotus raised a brow and stepped forward. "Soul magic is a dangerous field. What exactly are you looking for?"
Harry exhaled. "The Dark Lord… Voldemort. He found a way to anchor himself to this world by splitting his soul and placing the pieces into objects. These objects are called Horcruxes."
Ignotus frowned. "I have never heard that term before."
Harry nodded, not surprised. "There's a ritual that lets you sever a piece of your soul and store it somewhere safe so you can't be killed… at least, not easily."
Ignotus looked stricken. "To sever one's own soul? That is… unnatural."
Harry let out a humourless laugh. "That's putting it mildly."
Ignotus studied him for a long moment before his expression darkened. "And you wish to remove these… pieces?"
Harry nodded. "I will be destroying them soon, but there's one I won't be able to remove."
Ignotus nodded. "Then we must search for the means to—"
Harry cut him off. "It's me."
Silence fell between them.
Ignotus' painted form stiffened. "Explain," he said, his voice carefully measured.
Harry swallowed. "When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, his curse backfired. He died, or at least… he should have. But part of him latched onto me instead. I became a living Horcrux."
Ignotus had horror dawning on his face. "You mean to say that the Dark Lord's soul resides within you?"
Harry gave a stiff nod. "Yeah."
Ignotus inhaled deeply, despite not needing air. He turned away, his expression troubled. "Each Peverell brother had a unique gift granted by them," he muttered.
"I remember," Harry said. "Cadmus had a connection to Earth, Antioch to power… and you, to the soul."
Ignotus' gaze snapped to him, sharp and assessing. "Yes."
Harry shifted. "So? Is there a way to remove it?"
Ignotus was silent for a long moment before shaking his head. "Not that I can think of, if I were still alive, maybe I could have taken it."
Harry clenched his jaw. "The only way to get rid of a Horcrux is to destroy the vessel."
Ignotus turned to him fully, his expression grim. "Then we must find another way."
Harry let out a bitter laugh. "If there is another way."
Ignotus' eyes narrowed. "Peverells do not give up."
Harry blinked at the sheer indignation in his ancestor's tone before a small, tearful smile pulled at his lips. "Right," he murmured. "Of course not."
Ignotus watched him closely before nodding once, as if satisfied.
A silence settled between them before Harry hesitated.
Ignotus raised a brow. "Go on."
Harry took a slow breath. "Do you know anything about Oracles?"
Ignotus tilted his head, intrigued. "Oracles are rare. Why do you ask?"
Harry's fingers clenched around the parchment in his hands. "My friend, Luna… She has visions. And they're getting worse. She has no way to control them, no way to close off her magic from the ley lines. It's like she's stuck with the floodgates open."
At this, Ignotus' entire demeanour shifted. His gaze snapped to Harry, sharp and calculating. "She cannot close it?"
Harry shook his head. "No. She draws in magic from the ley lines constantly, but she can't stop it. It's hurting her."
Ignotus muttered something his breath before looking at Harry with an intensity that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. "We were able to use the ley lines freely, but we could also control our intake. If your friend cannot… that is dangerous."
Harry nodded. "I know."
Ignotus turned toward the shelves, scanning the scrolls from afar with a new purpose. "We must find an answer. If left unchecked, your Oracle friend may burn out."
"Its already started."
Ignotus' expression was grim. "The human body can only sustain so much magic before it collapses. If she cannot regulate her intake, she may lose herself entirely."
Harry swallowed hard, his mind racing. He wouldn't let that happen to Luna. He couldn't.
Determination burned in his chest as he turned to the ancient texts, his hands steady as he reached for the nearest scroll. "Then we better get searching."
~
The rest of the summer was passing quickly, and Harry was keeping himself busy with regular updates from his friends. Most frequent were the fabricated letters from Theo, who was still at Nott Manor, successfully pretending to be on the outs with Harry. Apparently, Nott Sr. had ordered Theo to rekindle their friendship by any means necessary.
Theo, of course, immediately reported this in their shared journal, his writing dry and amused:
Father is convinced I can get back into your good graces. Orders me to befriend you again. You'd think he would at least attempt subtlety.
Harry had chuckled when he read that and quickly wrote back:
Tell him we're already mending things for Blaise's sake. Should keep him happy. The fake letters you sent should be enough.
Meanwhile, Luna and Xeno were off on yet another adventure. Ever since hearing Luna's diagnosis, Xeno had become even more devoted to spending time with her, trying to make the most of every moment. Harry felt a pang of sympathy but was relieved to know that Luna was happy traveling the world with her father.
Sirius, on the other hand, was spending more nights at Grimmauld Place, apparently mending fences with Remus. He wasn't sure exactly where their relationship was heading, but he seemed content enough with the way things were going.
"It's complicated," Sirius had admitted over a drink. "We've both changed, and neither of us is sure what we want. He's asking about you a lot as well."
Harry had simply nodded, not wanting to pry. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Sirius.
What wasn't going well, however, was the situation at Grimmauld Place. At least for the Order.
"The Order is complaining," Sirius reported with a smirk one evening. "Apparently, your little 'renovation' left them without anything useful. No artifacts, no hidden weapons, not even a cursed tea set to keep things interesting."
Harry smirked, feeling more than a little petty about it. "Oh? I suppose they'll have to make do with an actual safe house instead of a treasure trove of dark artifacts."
"That's not all," Sirius added, clearly amused. "The Weasleys are moving in, for their safety, apparently."
Harry's smirk faltered. "Wait, the whole Weasley family?"
Sirius nodded. "Dumbledore's idea. Since they're 'closely connected' to him, he thought it best. What's interesting, though, is that they allowed Granger to move in too."
That made Harry pause. "Really?" He frowned. "Didn't she have plans to go to France with her parents? I'm sure that's what I heard."
"She did." Sirius took a sip of his drink. "But apparently, she changed her mind and decided to stay at Grimmauld Place instead."
Harry's fingers tapped against the table. "Odd, considering how much she and Ron fought last year."
"Very odd," Sirius agreed. "I'd wager Dumbledore has a plan."
Harry didn't like the implications. "I'll keep an eye on that."
Speaking of the Order, Sirius had picked up on something suspicious.
"They've had a few closed-door meetings without me," Sirius admitted, his tone dark. "I don't like it."
Harry frowned. "They're keeping things from you?"
Sirius nodded. "I tried to listen in, but Moody's damn wards make that difficult. However, I did catch a few whispers."
"About what?"
"The Department of Mysteries."
Harry sat up straighter. "That's… interesting."
"Exactly." Sirius sighed. "I'll see if I can dig up more."
Harry nodded. In the meantime, he made a mental note to write to Fred and George. The twins had eagerly accepted his bribe, a generous 1,000 Galleons from his Tournament winnings, to spy on the order after what their mother and brother had done.
One thing he did find amusing was Hermione's frustration over the locked library.
"She's been whining about it," Sirius reported with a wicked grin. "And sometimes, just to be extra cruel, I open the gates while she's watching."
Harry chuckled. "And?"
"She sprints for it, every damn time." Sirius snorted. "And every time, the wards bounce her back."
Harry grinned. "Serves her right."
Sirius' expression turned a bit more serious. "It's not just her. Some of the Order members are trying to break in."
Harry's amusement vanished. "What?"
Sirius nodded. "I've caught a few of them snooping around. Moody, especially. I think they're convinced you're hiding something."
Harry scowled. "I am...from them. It was one of my terms that the library was off-limits."
"I know," Sirius assured him. "I've reinforced the wards myself. No one's getting in without you knowing."
Harry exhaled through his nose. "Good."
Kreacher, meanwhile, had taken his loyalty to Lord Black very seriously.
"Apparently, he's making Molly's and Ron's lives miserable," Sirius said, barely containing his laughter. "Ever since he overheard that they stole from you."
Harry arched a brow. "How bad?"
"Ron keeps 'losing' things like his robes and shoes."
Harry smirked. "And Molly?"
"She can't cook a meal without Kreacher 'accidentally' replacing ingredients."
Harry outright laughed. "Brilliant."
Sirius grinned. "I thought you'd like that."
Before Harry could respond, green flames suddenly erupted in the fireplace, and Charlie stumbled out, brushing soot off his dragonhide jacket.
Sirius blinked. "Charlie?"
Charlie looked up, eyes locking onto Harry. "Oh, is this a bad time Harry?"
Charlie dusted off his jacket as he stepped further into the cottage, holding up a small satchel. "Got the ointments and medicines for Altair," he said. "Figured I should show you how to apply them properly."
He turned to see Sirius Black lounging on the arm of a chair, arms crossed, a slow, lazy smirk spreading across his face as he flicked his gaze between Charlie and Harry.
"I didn't know you lived here," Charlie said, blinking at him.
Sirius raised a brow. "I didn't know you were visiting my pup."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Calm down, Padfoot. Charlie already swore on his magic to keep the Cove secret."
Sirius hummed, still eyeing Charlie with suspicion. "Right, but just so we're clear, if you breathe a word to anyone, I'll know."
Charlie held up his hands. "I'm here to help the dragons, mate, not cause trouble."
Harry grinned. "Sirius, I asked Charlie to take a look at Altair a few weeks ago. He's helping."
That seemed to mollify Sirius, but then his smirk returned as he clapped Harry on the back. "Well then, I'll leave you to it, pup. Don't do anything I would do."
Harry choked. Charlie turned a brilliant shade of red.
"Sirius!" Harry groaned as his godfather waggled his eyebrows and sauntered off, laughing to himself.
Charlie cleared his throat. "Right. Uh, let's—let's go to the beach."
The warm ocean breeze rolled over the cove as Harry cupped his hands around his mouth and called for Altair.
The massive Ukrainian Ironbelly came bounding over, his pale scales gleaming in the sun, his tail carefully tucked so as not to crush one of Lyra's hatchlings, who were still playfully nipping at him.
"They're growing fast," Charlie murmured, eyes alight with fascination. "They shouldn't be this big yet."
Harry nodded. "I know. It's either something I'm doing or the freedom of the Cove. Maybe both."
Charlie hummed. "Could be. Magic interacts with dragons in ways we barely understand." He tilted his head. "You said you can feel them?"
Harry hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. Not words, exactly. More like… bonds, like thin strands of magic out of the corner of my eye."
Charlie looked completely captivated. "I wonder if the other dragons could develop abilities like Nox. If it's something you can teach."
Harry glanced at where Nox was watching them, stretched out lazily on a sun-warmed rock, her tail flicking with interest. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll see if they want to learn."
Altair, meanwhile, had shuffled closer, his pale milky eyes flicking between Harry and Charlie. He hesitated before speaking, his voice soft. "Lyra said fire-head could be Mother's mate."
Harry froze.
Altair continued, tilting his head, "Does that mean I should call him Father?"
"NO," Harry blurted immediately, his face burning. "Lyra's being a menace, and she's joking."
Charlie wheezed a laugh. "Merlin, Harry. Whats he saying?"
Altair hummed, seemingly unbothered. "Lyra jokes a lot."
"Yeah," Harry muttered, still red. "She does."
Charlie snickered but shook his head. "Alright, let's get this stuff on him."
Harry carefully spread the thick cream over Altair's scars, his fingers trembling slightly as he worked. Seeing the damage up close hurt, but Altair let out a relieved sigh, his muscles unclenching for the first time in ages.
"That means it's working," Charlie reassured him. "It's soothing the irritation."
Harry blinked rapidly, his throat tight. "Good."
Charlie hesitated. "I might have a lead on something for his eyes. It's not confirmed, but I'm chasing it up."
Harry looked up, hope flaring in his chest. "Really?"
Charlie nodded. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear more."
Once they finished, Harry leaned back on his heels, grinning at Charlie.
"Maybe next time you visit, you can ride my dragon."
Silence.
Then Charlie burst out laughing, ears going red, while Harry's face caught up a second later, turning scarlet.
"Oh Merlin. " Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands as Charlie practically wheezed beside him.
"I—" Charlie gasped between laughs. "I appreciate the offer, Harry..."
"Don't," Harry groaned, mortified.
As they laughed, all the dragons in the cove turned to watch them.
Lyra, lounging nearby, let out a long-suffering sigh and muttered to Nox, "At this rate, the fire mother will never get a mate."
Nox snorted in amusement, flicking her tail as she settled into the sand.
~
The bell above the Pritchards' store chimed softly as Harry stepped out onto the cobbled street of Knockturn Alley, adjusting the strap of his satchel.
"Take care, lad," Mr. Pritchard called from the doorway, his wife giving him a small wave.
Harry smiled back at them. "You too. And if you need anything, you will tell me, won't you?"
Mrs. Pritchard tutted. "We're old, dear, not helpless."
He smiled but didn't argue. Visiting them daily had become a routine over the summers, and though letters were convenient, they never quite matched face-to-face conversation. He worried for them sometimes, age, Knockturn's dangers, their connections to him, but they were stubborn.
He liked that.
Turning toward Diagon Alley, he made his way through the crowd, absently browsing shop windows. He paused outside an apothecary, eyeing some interesting plant cuttings Neville might enjoy, but then chuckled, remembering that Neville already had his hands full with the rare samples he'd given him for his birthday.
And that had been one hell of a visit.
His smirk grew as he recalled the verbal sparring match with Augusta Longbottom, who had tried to pry his secrets with subtle, and not-so-subtle—questions. He had kept up with her, much to Neville's horror, who had stared between them like a man waiting for a duel to break out.
Fun times, he thought, slipping an old book into his satchel.
Then the temperature dropped.
A ripple of unease spread through the alley as the summer warmth gave way to a bone-deep chill. Shopkeepers paused. Witches and wizards frowned, rubbing their arms.
But Harry knew.
His stomach twisted, and he whipped around. "DEMENTORS! GET INSIDE, NOW!"
The pedestrians froze, startled, but his sharp command shook them into action. People bolted for the nearest doors, shutters slammed, locks clicked, windows snapped shut. Even Rita Skeeter was caught in the scramble, her high heels clicking furiously as she all but threw herself into a bookstore.
Down the alley, two dementors hovered over a child, eight, maybe nine years old, drawing at his soul. His mother was nearby, paralyzed with terror.
Harry didn't hesitate.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A magnificent silver stag erupted from his wand, charging at the dementors with a blinding glow. They shrieked, recoiling as the stag drove them away.
Harry rushed to the child, skidding to his knees beside him. The boy's small frame shuddered violently, breath coming in gasps, his lips tinged blue.
A blur of movement and he saw Aurors finally arriving.
"Wands down!" one barked.
Harry barely spared them a glance. "Follow the dementors and stop wasting time!" he snapped.
The lead Auror frowned. "We need to assess the situation—"
"THE SITUATION IS YOU'RE LETTING DEMENTORS RUN LOOSE!" Harry snarled. "Do your damn job!"
The man flushed but motioned his squad forward. Some Aurors gave Harry wary looks before taking off after the retreating dementors.
Harry turned back to the boy. His trembling had worsened, and his eyes were fluttering shut.
The mother, now kneeling beside him, clutched at Harry's robes, her face tear-streaked. "P-please, Lord Potter-Black help my son!"
Harry's mind raced. The child was fading. He had no time for standard procedure.
"I'm taking him to St. Mungo's," he said firmly. "Meet me there."
Then, as gently as possible, he gathered the child into his arms and Apparated.
The moment they landed, Harry shouted, "I need a Healer, NOW!"
Staff sprang into action, rushing forward. A healer, a young woman with dark curls and sharp eyes, immediately conjured a stretcher and levitated the child onto it.
"What happened?" she demanded, already scanning him.
"Dementor attack," Harry said grimly. "Two of them, nearly Kissed him."
Her face tightened as she cast a diagnostic spell. Then her expression turned alarmed. "His magical core is unstable, possibly on the verge of rupturing."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," she said, already motioning for additional staff, "you did the right thing bringing him straight here."
The mother burst through the doors just as her son was floated away, sobbing in relief when she saw Harry standing there.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Harry exhaled, feeling bone-deep exhaustion settle in. "He's in good hands now."
Later that evening, the Daily Prophet's emergency release sent waves through the Wizarding World.
The front page held a picture of Harry clad in emerald green robes, casting a powerful Patronus, his stag mid-charge, illuminating the alleyway.
DEMENTORS LOOSE IN DIAGON ALLEY!
Ministry failing to keep control? Lord Potter-Black takes command and saves a child!
Diagon Alley erupted into chaos today when two rogue Dementors attacked innocent civilians, prompting an immediate response from Lord Harry Potter-Black.
Eyewitnesses report that while the Aurors hesitated, Lord Potter-Black took control of the situation, ordering civilians to safety before casting a Patronus so powerful that it drove both Dementors away single-handedly.
One victim, a young boy, was nearly Kissed—his mother too stricken with fear to intervene. Yet once again, Potter-Black acted where the Ministry failed, rushing the child to St. Mungo's. Healers on the scene confirm the boy's magical core was nearly ruptured, and that Lord Potter-Black's quick thinking saved his life.
This event raises urgent concerns about the Ministry's control—or lack thereof—over the Dementors, who are meant to remain in Azkaban under strict orders. Yet here they were, attacking a child in broad daylight.
The public demands answers. Is this incompetence? Negligence? Or something darker?
Further speculation surrounds the Ministry's continued attempts to silence Lord Potter-Black regarding the return of You-Know-Who. With his testimony last year, followed by this latest incident, is it possible that the Ministry is allowing danger to run unchecked simply to avoid admitting their own failures?
One thing is clear— Lord Potter-Black has done more for the safety of the people than the Ministry ever has.
And the world is watching.
In a stunning development, an emergency Wizengamot meeting has been scheduled for tomorrow morning.
Stay tuned for updates.—Rita Skeeter
Harry tossed the paper onto the table, running a hand through his hair.
"Well," he muttered to himself, "guess I'll be having an interesting morning."