Six years later ...
August 2015
Somewhere deep in the magical province of Siberia, hundreds of kilometres from Lena City, the capital of the Siberian Ministry of Magic, a burly figure was quickly walking along a grassy path. He was six feet three inches in height, with moderately long brown hair that slightly curled at the tips. His shoulders were stiff with tension, grey eyes narrowed in concentration as he gripped his wand tightly; he seemed to be expecting an attack of some sort.
Twenty-three-year-old Dylan Lestrange suddenly moved out of the way as he dodged the incoming curses. A predatory smile formed on his lips, even though he had been under constant attack for the past two weeks. It had been a test for survival. Siberia was definitely beautiful during this time of year, but the examiners of the famed Siberian Academy of Battle-Magic could turn the area into one of the deadliest in the world.
Jets of multi-coloured light flew at him from all directions. Dylan dodged them but didn't stray from his position too much. Acrobatics and using body movements to their advantage was Harry and Daphne's style, not his. He preferred a more refined approach with precision strikes, and over the years, he had perfected it due to the rigorous training offered to him by his Master and the rest of the academy instructors.
Neatly taking a few steps forward and backwards, Dylan slashed his wand while using wandless magic with his left hand. Pure ripples of magic were the testament to the control he had over his powers. Using the surrounding area to his advantage, he wandlessly broke the branch of a tree and flung it towards his enemies. When he sensed a group approaching him from behind, he twirled sideways, with his hand outstretched.
Bolts of lightning flew from his fingertips and impacted the attacking party. Dylan didn't waste time. Moving forward, disabling another enchantment, he continued. This final test had been designed without any remorse in the heart of the examiner. It was a practical test, luring some of the more dangerous assassins in the world, all paid to test a willing cadet who agreed to go through with it. Not all the cadets of the academy were allowed to even consider taking this particular test. It was meant for the elite – and no one in the history of the academy had ever survived it. It was a big risk, both on the part of the academy instructors and the cadet in question.
The exam was completely voluntary, but Dylan would hardly miss the chance to immediately rise up the ranks once he graduated. The other graduates would have to wait a long time for advancement, but those who passed this test would be given a special opportunity – and he would not let it go to waste.
Their plan depended on it.
Flying without the help of the broom, Dylan cast an explosion curse at the ground.
He took a deep breath. What was left of the assault party was trapped. There was no need for these wizards to die. Greedy scum, these assassins and bounty hunters may be, but Dylan didn't want to kill them. They could be rescued by the academy personnel later.
Flying to an appropriate altitude, Dylan twisted in mid-air and Disapparated.
Several hours later, once he was fully healed and showered, he found himself standing in a circular room that served as the office of the academy's headmistress.
"Impressive, cadet," the witch said, nodding in approval. "I have never witnessed anyone complete that exam, not only in my tenure but in the history of this academy itself. Your Master should be proud."
"Thank you, ma'am."
That was high praise coming from her, especially considering how she refrained from positively commenting on the progress of any of the cadets, demanding improvement. Madam Aicanã of Magical Brazil was known for keeping her distance, maintaining the façade of a very strict disciplinarian.
Dylan doubted that was her true self. He was sure she only kept that mask on to control the people in the academy. They could not handle another Grindelwald incident.
Madam Aicanã looked at him shrewdly. "Have you changed your mind since that conversation you had with your Master six months ago?"
"No ma'am," Dylan answered. "I wouldn't have signed up for this exam had I wished to seek my fortunes elsewhere. I have made my decision, and I was hoping to seek your approval."
A hint of a smile formed on her face. "You certainly do, young man. If you still want to go through with it, then sign this contract."
He scanned the contents of the sheet of parchment. This contract was only temporary, to be replaced by a permanent one in the future. Not that he cared. Daphne had long ago conducted experiments to prove that magical contracts did not have any effect on the three of them.
Once he signed it, Madam Aicanã stood up and shook his hand. "Congratulations on successfully graduating from the academy. Welcome to the Department of Mysteries, Mr Lestrange."
Dylan bowed respectfully, but his grey eyes were gleaming with excitement and satisfaction. Quickly walking down the corridors of the building, he entered his room. His belongings had already been packed. Shrinking his trunk, he placed it in his pocket and proceeded towards the main door. The cold Siberian air hit his face as he moved into the open. For five minutes, he silently walked until he reached the Apparition point. Dylan looked one last time at the ancient building. For six years, it had been his home. Taking a deep breath, he Disapparated.
It was nighttime, and Lena City was bustling with people. The city reflected the architecture of the native Siberian witches and wizards. The capital city itself had been named after one of the five major rivers in the region. The natives considered the rivers to be sacred and worshipped them as they worshipped Mother Magic herself. Since ice and water were their main focus, the magical populace of Lena City had constructed a massive statue dedicated to the White Phoenix, the sacred bird that symbolized the holy element of water. Other statues of ancient witches and wizards from their history dominated the high street that led to the dome-shaped building which served as the headquarters of the Siberian Ministry of Magic.
Dylan passed through the security checkpoints with the air of having done it hundreds of times over the past six years. Many of the Ministry employees even greeted him happily. An amused smile formed on his lips as he entered the division for international travel.
"Your Portkey leaves in two minutes, Mr Lestrange," said the wizard. "When can we expect you back?"
"I'm afraid my business here is done, sir," Dylan chuckled humourlessly.
"Ah, that's a shame," he sighed. "Well, good luck, kid. It'll be weird not seeing you every week."
Dylan thought so too. He stood at the designated place, holding his Portkey. At the precise moment, there was a tug behind his navel and a few uncomfortable seconds later, he was standing in a similar office. Rays from the afternoon sun streamed inside from the windows as he heard an automated voice say –
'Welcome to the city of Camelot. The Ministry of Magic of Avalon wishes you a good day.'
"Lord Lestrange," gushed the witch at the International Portkey Terminal. "It's good to see you again. Shall I arrange a return Portkey to Lena City?"
"No," Dylan said softly. "Not Lena City. I'll be travelling to Mesopotamia in two days. Please make the necessary arrangements, madam."
"Understood. The Portkey to Bābili will be ready for your departure, Lord Lestrange. Have a nice day."
Thanking her, he walked towards the domestic Floo terminal. With a flash of green flames, he was transported to Potter Castle. He was itching to see his wife once again, who had just returned after finishing her studies in international magical law.
It was good to be home.
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
Bābili, capital of the magical province of Mesopotamia
The room was dimly lit and was circular in shape. Six people were seated on a pedestal, with equal distance between each chair, as if portraying that they were all equals. It was said to promote debate, and the room signified a space where different knowledgeable witches and wizards could exchange ideas. This magnificent room, designed by Mesopotamian architects, had been in use for centuries by learned people who earned their Sorcerer degrees. It was here that the late wizard Albus Dumbledore himself had been bestowed the title of Grand Sorcerer for his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon blood.
While the outer circumference of the room held those six seats, the inner circumference was empty, with a dim light shining from the ceiling. This was the place where the aspiring Sorcerers would showcase their talent to the world.
Head Unspeakable Algernon Croaker was seated in one of the six chairs. He stroked his chin in contemplation. The witch to his left, Madam Kotomi of Magical Japan, the chairman of the Sorcerer's Council, cleared her throat and announced, "We are gathered here today to judge the presentation of two highly renowned Masters in their fields. Step forward, Mr and Mrs Potter."
Twenty-five-year-old Daphne Potter bowed to the council, followed her husband. "We are honoured to be here," she said.
Standing six feet in height, her deep blue eyes shining brightly, Daphne cut an impressive figure. The lavishly decorated flowing robes that she used to prefer wearing during her teenage years were gone, to be replaced by skin-tight clothes that aided her in agility. While her movements appeared naturally graceful due to being an accomplished dancer, one could observe the lean muscle in her arms and legs, showing that she was stronger than she appeared. Her long dark-blonde hair was tied up, held by a bejewelled hair clip. Dangling diamond earrings sparkled in the dim light and her basilisk-hide boots made tapping noises against the polished floor. She looked like a warrior ready for battle.
Harry too was similarly dressed, with dark blue form-fitting clothes, having completely foregone outer robes of any kind that hindered quick movement. His moderately long raven-black hair, usually loose, was tied in a low ponytail. A silver locket that hung from around his neck gleamed under the lighting charms. About four inches taller than his wife, he literally radiated power. Broad shoulders and a toned chest and stomach gave him a muscular physique, just like his younger brother, Dylan. The faint lightning bolt shaped scar that defined the Boy-Who-Lived was still visible on his forehead. The most distinguishing feature about the young man was definitely his eyes that were literally the shade of the Avada Kedavra curse – the colour of death.
The past six years had changed them. Having witnessed the betrayal of the rogue Unspeakables, Harry, Daphne and Dylan had realised that just because Lord Voldemort had been defeated, that was not an end to the danger. They had, unconsciously, let their guard down during a time of peace. They realised their mistake and that was now showing in their mannerisms. The three of them would never be held back again. The future of the magical world depended on their survival and victory.
It had taken them seven years to reach this stage, two years more than what they had planned for. Finally, Harry and Daphne were in front of the Sorcerer's Council, ready to present their work.
"What do you have for us?" asked Madam Kotomi.
Harry flicked his wand, conjuring six copies of their thesis which he distributed to the members of the council. Daphne stepped forward.
"Honoured members of the council, what my husband and I are presenting to you this morning is something that is on par with the trend in today's world," she explained. "Enchanting and magical innovation over the past ten years has shaped magical technology like nothing we have seen in recent times. Our original ideas were to present our research papers separately, but when we kept hitting roadblocks in our personal projects, we decided to combine them for better implementation."
With a flick of his wand, Harry conjured a rectangular black stone. "You've all seen this," he said. "It's a ward stone, used to power various powerful enchantments. It comes in different sizes and configurations. Such technology has been in use for nearly two thousand years. We have never been able to develop a suitable substitute for anything that can absorb and harness a huge amount of magical energy that is required to protect our homes or enchant our biggest devices. My goal was to replace this aged technology with something else. Something that can be adapted to other devices and one that can absorb and use more magical energy than some of the biggest and most expensive ward stones we currently have at our disposal."
Croaker leaned forward with interest. His curiosity was piqued.
Daphne took over. She removed a wand from within her expanded pocket. She flicked it, but instead of a spell, the wand turned into a rubber chicken. It was one of Fred and George Weasley's fake wands, very popular among children.
"Self-casting wands," she continued. "No one has ever been able to produce them, mostly because a wand is just a piece of wood, combined with powerful materials. It is a magical focus. This wand, a prank item made for children, does not cast spells. There are practice wands that are produced for children below the age of eleven, but those are just cheaper substitutes for wands. Magical foci that produce spells on their own have never been successfully invented by anyone. I wanted to break that barrier, and this has been my main focus of research."
Daphne ignored the excited whispers as she removed a small object from within her bag. The said object was shaped like a pyramid and was six inches in height. It was glowing red from the inside. Her fingers touched the second object, a cube that was glowing blue, but after a split second hesitation, she decided not to remove it. Harry conjured a thick slab of stone at the other end of the room.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call an Asthron," Daphne explained. "I have programmed it to my specifications."
"But this isn't a wand," countered one of the wizards among the six.
"No, sir, it is not. But it is most definitely a magical focus. Let me demonstrate."
Harry discreetly nodded to his wife. Daphne held a piece of glass – her computer – in hand as she activated the Asthron. The small pyramid glowed a dark shade of red as it automatically levitated itself a few feet from the ground. The tip which was facing the ceiling changed direction until it was pointed towards the stone slab.
Daphne observed the expressions of the six gathered there. All of them were sceptical about what the Asthron could do. Croaker, though, while sceptical, also looked curious and intrigued.
"Fire," she said softly. There was a split second beep before a jet of red light flew from the tip of the Asthron and impacted the stone slab, destroying it. The shards scraped the shields which Harry had erected, but the spell had done its job.
Harry smiled faintly at the gobsmacked looks on the faces of their evaluators. Not wanting to halt the display, he swiftly conjured a dozen stone slabs in all directions. With another flick of his wand, he made them move around the room randomly. Daphne was just as quick to follow, her fingers tapping on the computer screen. With a wave of her hand, the Asthron activated once more. Moving in all directions with surprising speed and accuracy, jets of red light kept hitting the various blocks of stone which Harry had conjured. The area looked like a war zone after five minutes.
"That was a Reductor Curse," explained Daphne. "That was all I had programmed for this particular Asthron. Yes, it's not a wand. But it's a lot better. It doesn't need a wizard to hold it in his hand to operate it. Many other spells can be programmed into it as well."
The actual intention of the device went unsaid. It was primarily a weapon of war. Of the six, only Croaker understood that, and his face was grim. The others were excited.
"How are you able to channel so much magic for the device to work?" one of them inquired.
Daphne turned towards her husband, who walked towards the centre of the room. Removing a phial, he revealed a luminescent blue fluidic substance that was contained within.
"This is my invention," he said. "An alchemical liquid I call Varasma. It conducts magic in ways that magically enforced granite and magical crystals used in mirrors can never hope to compete. A few drops of it are all that is required for the Asthron to work. It occupies less space and is more flexible than granite and crystals."
Croaker was impressed. The potential these two offered was enormous. It would fundamentally change the very nature of their society. Protective enchantments using Varasma as a conduit of magic would prove to be more beneficial and less difficult to maintain. Powering smaller devices would also be less of a hindrance. The Asthron could be used for a variety of devices. Automation would most definitely be developed in different fields of magical technology.
The next several hours were spent in discussing and explaining the nature of the devices and the magical principles involved in their creation. It was past five in the evening when the council asked them to leave the room, giving them some time to talk among themselves.
"What do you think?" asked Daphne.
Harry paused. "Well, we've made it clear that we do not intend to sell our products in the international market. That certainly seemed to reassure them. The Asthron would surely be dangerous in the wrong hands –"
"– as would a Varasma infused Asthron," interrupted Daphne, levitating a cubic device that was glowing blue in colour. "I don't want them to know about this. It would most definitely cause panic. Croaker already looks weary."
"Agreed. What do you think, Dylan?"
The younger man sitting next to them looked at the blue Asthron introspectively. "I agree as well," he said quietly. "Do you think you can make Croaker see things from our point of view?"
"We have to," shrugged Daphne. "Our plans depend on it. Complete secrecy is one thing, but not being prepared for war, even if we try our best to avoid it, is idiotic. Good job on that test, by the way."
Dylan simply smiled.
Five minutes later, the couple was called back inside the room. Facing the council, they waited for Madam Kotomi to speak.
"Examining the projects of aspiring Sorcerers is never easy," she said, looking critically at Harry and Daphne. "No matter how knowledgeable our council may be, we still have much to learn. A new source of tapping into magical reserves is something that was never experimented upon. Self-casting magical foci were never successful. But you both have beaten the odds. We all debated on the matter, and we're glad that you're not going to market your products just yet. I don't have to tell you that we could have serious problems on our hands should rogue wizards get their hands on it. However, given your reputation and skill, I have no doubt you will keep your inventions safe. You both have breathed air in an area of magic that had never been tapped before. Therefore, on behalf of this council, it is my greatest pleasure to award you both the title of Grand Sorcerer. Congratulations to you both, Harry and Daphne Potter."
The couple bowed to the members of the council who stood up, applauding for the youngest Grand Sorcerers the world had ever seen. After shaking hands with everyone, Croaker motioned them to an adjacent room. The door opened and Dylan quietly entered as well.
Croaker took a seat and exhaled. "You three are certainly something special," he admitted after a pause. Looking at Dylan, he spoke, "You managed to single-handedly defeat a group of the deadliest assassins in the world. In my opinion, that blasted test should never have existed, and there was a very high possibility that you could have died like every other cadet who took that exam over the years, but you prevailed. How, I do not know."
"You," he said, looking at Daphne, "managed to create a device so intricately designed that you can change the way we view magical technology. I'm not sure if you meant it to cast mundane spells or destructive curses, but you certainly breached a barrier. No one has ever managed to program a device to cast spells. People have tried many, many times, but they have failed. But you succeeded."
"And finally, the one who wants to change the way we power all heavy enchantments," Croaker said, looking at Harry, his gaze soft with affection. "Alchemy is a very rare branch of magic that is not seen frequently. Varasma is an alchemical discovery that can open new possibilities for us all."
He paused. "In essence, you three are revolutionaries. But I'm not stupid, and I certainly do not expect you to be idiots either. You want something. And you are also hiding something. What is it?"
Harry remained stoic. Extracting an orb from inside his pocket, he passed it to the older man. Croaker seemed surprised, but he tapped the orb with his wand. A ghostly image of Sybill Trelawney rose from within its depths and spoke in a harsh voice –
"The one with the power to restore balance has been chosen ... the one who has already fulfilled the terms of a prophecy, the one marked by the Dark Lord as his equal. He shall emerge at a time when the shroud of darkness is creeping along the horizon. The ones cursed by Magic have begun their path to chaos ... the balance shall be broken, the secret ousted, and a holy war shall end it all. Long forgotten allies shall emerge, for only two can there be that shall decide our fate. The one chosen by Magic, touched by Death, flanked by tigress and wolf, will be forced to restore balance, but should he fail, Magic shall consume us all. The Saviour of Magic has been chosen ... chosen to fulfil his destiny ..."
The figure sunk back into the depths of the orb and vanished. Croaker remained silent as he tried to wonder what the prophecy could mean. Mentally, he made plans to verify if it was genuine, but his gut kept telling him that it made sense. For years, he had heard strange whispers from different sources. Many magical creatures were behaving strangely. Wizard-goblin relations were at an all-time high. The Centaurs and Vampires were not as hostile as before. The Veela Queen had taken an active interest to interact with the I.C.W., promoting more bilateral talks between them. Even his father's old friend, Garrick Ollivander, was hinting at something strange.
"The secret shall be ousted?" he asked finally. "Just to clear the air, what secret do you three feel she is referring to?"
Harry smiled faintly. "What is the biggest secret of our age? It's the very existence of magic itself. Sir, you know as well as I do that she's referring to the International Statute of Secrecy."
Croaker took a deep, shaky breath. "Let's say for the sake of discussion that I believe this prophecy is genuine. In that case, from what I know of her previous prophecy, there is no doubt that it is you. I may not understand all of it, but that much certainly makes sense to me. Let's be frank. What do you want?"
"We are not interested in war, Director Croaker," Dylan said quietly. "The war with Voldemort was enough, and we are not eager for another. However, that doesn't mean we should sit idle and do nothing. We are trying our very best to prevent war. The biggest measure we decided upon was complete secrecy. We want to fully separate from the Muggles – globally."
"The Magical Orphans Act where you rescued those Muggle-born orphans," observed Croaker, nodding along. "And you also initiated the construction of Camelot, Godric's Hollow and Hogsmeade."
"Over the past six years, with our combined influence, we have managed to convince the rest of the Magical European governments and also MACUSA to implement the same plan for their countries as well," elaborated Daphne. "Construction is nearly finished. In six months, there will be no wizarding settlement within Muggle areas anywhere in the world. Complete separation would then be possible."
Croaker nodded. He could certainly see the merits of the plan. And he was not the least bit surprised that Harry and Daphne had managed to convince the heads of all those magical countries to relocate and construct non-Muggle cities. The Obscurial incident six years ago had increased their fame globally, and they had been invited to various soirees by influential politicians. Their hold in the international political sphere had slowly grown over time, and they could certainly be considered as among the most powerful people in the world – and they had not even actively entered politics yet.
Their new titles of Grand Sorcerer would only serve to increase the respect they had in the eyes of the common witch and wizard.
"Alright. I see your point. But you have also been working on the what-if scenario that a war indeed breaks out between wizards and Muggles, am I right? And I assume that was the reason you took that deadly test, Dylan?"
"Yes sir," nodded Dylan. "As per the terms of the contract of the exam, should I be successful, the Department of Mysteries shall help me create a sub-department, with me as the head. I've already decided what that is going to be."
"Let's get it over with," exhaled Croaker, rubbing his temples with his fingers. The stress of the day was getting to him.
"I want the emergency task force under my command," Dylan stated. "I'm qualified to mentor and lead them, sir. If a war indeed breaks out, we will be grossly unprepared without sufficient training. Muggles don't use wands."
Harry bit his lip in contemplation. While he wasn't fully on board with this idea, he could see its uses. Not everyone was as skilled as him, Daphne or Dylan. They needed training.
"The task force also needs to be increased in size," said Harry, "by a factor of ten, if not more. Sir, you are the Head Unspeakable. I cannot impress upon you the seriousness of what is going on. I have never lied to you. You might think this prophecy is a fake but I assure you, it's not. You can run tests later to prove its authenticity. But for now, please consider our request."
"What about you, Daphne?" asked Croaker critically. "Since you aren't willing to sell or publish your work, there has to be something to it."
Daphne nodded. "I want to improve upon the Asthron, sir. I was hoping to have a research team of my own in your department."
Croaker chuckled humourlessly. "I feel like you three are cornering me from all directions," he said wryly. "And something tells me that you have yet to make your demands known, Harry. Let me be frank with you. I need to run some tests on the Varasma you have invented. Such technology would surely help me with my research projects. Name your price."
Harry smiled faintly. "I only want you to continue what you already do, what you are famous for. Sir, in exchange for my alchemical discovery, I want you to research more into the magic of time travel. Only, there is a certain twist I'm hoping you will agree with."
Croaker's face lit up as Harry described it to him. He laughed. "Oh, this is no problem at all," he said, still chuckling. "With a new source of magical reserves, I can't wait to begin my experiments. The costs would surely come down drastically without the heavy use of traditional ward stones. I'm in. Is that all?"
Harry nodded. The four of them spent another hour discussing and compromising on their terms until they finally reached consensus. Croaker handed both Daphne and Dylan badges made of gold, with an intricate crest on it, stamped with the seal – D.O.M.
"Congratulations, Daphne, Dylan," smiled Croaker. "You both are now officially Unspeakables. I shall expect to see you at work from Monday."
With a satisfied smile, Croaker grabbed the phial containing Varasma and Disapparated. He had a lot of work to do and he was giddy with excitement.
Harry might think the Head Unspeakable got the short end of the stick, but for someone like Croaker, whose passion was to discover the intricacies of time magic, any help was beneficial; especially if he could power his time devices with the help of Varasma, thus dwelling deeper into his research project.
Dylan grabbed his brother and sister-in-law in a hug, wrapping his arms around them tightly. "I'm so proud of you both," he said excitedly.
Harry and Daphne chuckled. "Thanks, brat," he said teasingly. "If you think I'm going to congratulate you, then you're delusional!"
Daphne's shoulders slumped. "Please don't start," she groaned. "I'm exhausted, and I don't have the patience to deal with you eggheads tonight."
Dylan's jaw dropped in shock and mock outrage. "Daph, how could you call me an egghead?" he exclaimed. "That's Harry, remember?"
"You are what I say you are."
He huffed. "You and Astoria are most definitely related," he muttered under his breath. "Both of you say the same thing and I'm left with no retort."
"That's only because you're scared of me," Daphne teased, pinching his cheek affectionately.
Dylan puffed out his chest proudly. "I'll have you know, I, Dylan Lestrange, am scared of nothing. In fact – bloody fucking hell, get that lizard out of my face!"
Daphne laughed hysterically as she watched Dylan scramble to get away from the lizard Harry had conjured. Her husband was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his muscular chest, a hint of a smirk on his usually expressionless face, eyes twinkling in amusement.
"You were saying something about not being scared of anything?" asked Harry casually.
"Bloody git," cursed Dylan under his breath. "Be careful, or I'll knock your teeth out!"
"Bring it on, little brother!"
"All right, wrap it up," Daphne intervened. Turning towards her brother-in-law, she said, "You have a wife to get home to, and we have three children waiting for us at the hotel. Let's go."
"I'll so get back at you," whispered Dylan in Harry's ear, carefully ensuring that Daphne couldn't overhear.
Harry smirked at him, ruffling his brother's hair. "You're on," he shot back softly.
Chucking in amusement, Dylan shook his head and Disapparated to the International Floo Terminal in the city. Harry and Daphne too Disapparated without a sound and appeared at the Apparition point near their hotel. The air was filled with the noise of the crowded city. The native architecture and cultural landmarks of the Mesopotamian witches and wizards could be seen everywhere.
"Daph, do you think you can manage on your own?" asked Harry quietly. "I promised Master Nicolas that I would see him once the presentation was complete."
"Sure, go ahead," replied Daphne. Cupping his cheek, she kissed him softly. "I'll take the kids back home after dinner."
Harry nodded and Disapparated to the International Portkey Terminal. Walking up the front steps of the hotel, Daphne entered the building, only to freeze when she saw the opulent lobby in disarray.
"Get out of the way, coming through!"
Daphne's jaw dropped as she dived to the ground. The small broomstick built for children flew just past her head. She recognised the familiar messy mop of dark-blonde hair. "Charlie, what are you doing?" she exclaimed.
"Winning!" grinned six-year-old Charles Potter excitedly.
"Mum, move!"
"Bella!"
Her only daughter, Belladonna, grinned back; her long raven-black hair had come undone from her ponytail. "I'm so going to beat him!" she vowed, flying faster.
"Stop, right now!" ordered Daphne, but it was no use. The twins were literally flying circles in the lobby. The other hotel guests were horrified.
Déjà vu.
Where is the one who instigated those two into doing this?
"Yeah, come on, Bella!" jumped five-year-old James Potter excitedly.
Younger to his siblings by ten months, he too had inherited the emerald green eyes of the Slytherin family. His hair was black and unlike his siblings who had a perfect combination of their parents' features, James looked like a miniature version of Harry Potter.
"You can beat him! Fly faster!"
"What is going on here?" exclaimed the hotel manager. "Must I be everywhere?"
Daphne groaned. She was pretty sure her family would be barred from this hotel as well.
"There he is!" Charlie shouted.
"Go for it, big brother!" cheered Belladonna.
Everyone in the lobby watched in shock as the two bodily slammed into a burly wizard, knocking him over. His trunk, still not magically reduced in size, flew across the room due to the force of the collision.
"Madam Potter, please control your children!" the manager exclaimed. Nodding and conveying a silent apology, Daphne waved her hand briskly. Charlie and Belladonna's brooms slowed down, and amidst their protests, she carefully landed them on the ground.
"Mum!" Charlie cried indignantly. "What did you do that for?"
Daphne glared at her oldest son. "You were flying in the lobby! Your actions injured a guest. In Salazar's name, what possessed you to do something like this?"
Belladonna was the quickest to answer. "Mum, when you were gone, Jamie wasn't feeling well," she said, wrapping her arms around her little brother. "We just wanted to make him feel better, honest!
Her bright green eyes were twinkling with mock innocence. It could have fooled the entire world, but not her mother.
"Really?" asked Daphne sceptically. "Is that true, Jamie? Are you unwell?"
James nodded solemnly. Daphne paused when she touched his face. Her youngest son was running a fever.
"Alright, let's get you to a healer," she said softly. "And then – not so fast you two!"
The twins were attempting to escape the scene. She was just about to yell at them but the hotel manager finally caught up with her. It took several minutes for Daphne to soothe his ruffled feathers. After repairing the damage – and paying for the enchanted objects that her children had destroyed – a fuming Daphne led her children up to their suite. Once inside, she rounded on them.
"Well?" Daphne demanded, her hands on her hips. "I am so angry right now that I am this close to grounding you three for all eternity. James, explain yourself!"
"Mummy, I'm not feeling well," he whined. "I didn't do anything! And you always say that I shouldn't overexert myself when I'm sick. Well, stopping Charlie and Bella could have made my fever worse."
"That's a good answer," grumbled Daphne under her breath. Promptly turning towards her oldest, she demanded, "Charlie, what were you thinking?"
"Well, it's just –" began Charlie, fidgeting under her gaze, but he was interrupted.
"No, don't answer that. I know what you're going to say and I've heard the same excuse enough times already. Bella, what was going through your mind?"
"I just wanted to help my brother," she said softly, looking down at her shoes, trying to play the innocent card. Daphne exhaled in frustration. Belladonna was James Potter and Sirius Black's granddaughter through and through. A born Marauder.
"Come on, Mum, it wasn't anything bad," defended Charlie. "Besides, we were bored and mumph!"
Belladonna slapped her hand against her brother's mouth to prevent him from blowing their cover story but it was too late. Her eyes were wide with panic as she slowly looked towards her mother. Daphne looked like a hungry tigress that had caught her prey.
"Bored? You flew your brooms in the lobby of one of the most opulent hotels in the world, destroyed several of their expensive items and injured a guest, all because you were bored? This is not the first time you three have done something like this! I thought Australia was bad enough, but this incident is way over the top! Do you even know how much I had to pay to repair the damage? Just because we have money doesn't mean we can waste it like this! Once, just once, would it kill you to behave?"
Daphne rolled her eyes when her children began making gagging noises, as though they were about to die. Here she was, scolding them, and they were taking it with a grain of salt? She was utterly confused! They never acted this carefree when she was angry. Her children usually listened to her, mostly because she was the parent who enforced discipline.
Harry was the 'fun' parent – making her look bad in the process – because he found it impossible to raise his voice to his children. Ever.
But what could she do? With her husband that useless in disciplining them, she had to be strict with them. Spoilt, they may be, but she knew not to take it too far. Daphne didn't want her kids to turn out like how Draco Malfoy had been at that age. Thankfully, while they were mischievous, they certainly weren't arrogant. Since they were magical, their physical and mental development was much faster as compared to their Muggle counterparts. They had already begun developing their own interests.
Charlie was the athletic one and the strongest physically as well. He enjoyed watching his Dad and Uncle Dylan spar frequently and had already begged his parents to enrol him in a school for martial arts once they were permanently back to living in Potter Castle. Charlie was also most definitely his mother's son. He had certainly inherited Daphne's temper.
Belladonna, on the other hand, was by far the best flyer. She had inherited her father's skill on a broom and was constantly flying whenever she got the chance. She was also the most cunning of the three.
James, Harry and Daphne's youngest child, was the most unique. He was not as strong as his older siblings, but he was definitely the smartest. Always having a book in hand, James was mostly silent, except when his siblings got him involved in some mischievous scheme or the other.
"That reminds me, where's your babysitter?"
The twins looked at each other, looking strangely smug. Even James was smirking. Charlie hesitantly pointed towards his bedroom. Daphne frowned and quickly moved to investigate. When she opened the door, her eyes widened. She had to bite her tongue from trying not to burst out laughing.
Their babysitter was given a monkey's tail and donkey ears. The poor woman was covered in paint, all in different colours. Worst of all, she was strapped to a chair, with several ropes binding her. Her wand was on the floor at the far end of the room. When Daphne opened the door, a banana pie flew from the desk and landed with a wet splat on the babysitter's face.
With a quick wave of her wand, Daphne repaired the room and vanished the mess the 'prank' had caused. Finally, with great reluctance, she cancelled the silencing charm.
"Fred, George, I'm going to burn down each of your shops one day," muttered Daphne under her breath.
"THAT'S IT!" yelled the babysitter. "I've had it with those three hooligans! Never am I coming back here and I'll tell all my co-workers to avoid this family at all costs! Look what they did to me!"
Daphne was about to apologise when she felt someone tug her robes. Looking down she spotted James eyeing her. Crouching to his level, she asked, "What is it, Jamie?"
"I caught her in your bedroom trying to steal your jewellery," whispered James, as if it were a big conspiracy. "She was trying to disable the alert charms, but I caught her. Charlie and Bella decided to teach her a lesson before you and Daddy could come back."
"Oh."
"Do you like it, Mum?" smirked Belladonna.
"It's our best work yet!" Charlie exclaimed, bouncing with excitement. "Grandpa Sirius will be pleased!"
A hint of a smile formed on her lips as she saw the beaming and proud smiles on her children's faces. Wanting to check if their theory was right, she cast a powerful Compulsion Charm on the babysitter, forcing her to tell the truth.
"Did you attempt to steal my jewellery?" she asked.
The woman struggled, but she had no experience with Occlumency to repel the charm. The words were wrenched from her mouth. "Yes. And I would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for those meddling kids!"
Daphne pursed her lips in anger, extending her hand towards the wall. A small glass screen appeared and she pressed it with her palm. A communication channel activated, redirecting her to the lobby.
"Hotel security, please report to my suite immediately."
"Yeah!" cheered Charlie, fist-pumping his brother and sister as the three of them danced around excitedly. James quickly felt dizzy because of the fever and had to sit down. Just a couple of seconds later, Daphne felt the enchantments in the suite beginning to wane as two security wizards Apparated directly into the living room along with the manager.
As the wizards took the babysitter downstairs to 'escort' her out of the hotel, the manager looked at Daphne shrewdly.
"Mrs Potter, I owe your kids my thanks," he said reluctantly. "The guest they knocked down turned out to be a thief. Nothing big, a small-time crook – and a bit of an idiot, actually – but he had just ransacked one of our other guests after disabling the wards. He was going to make a run for it, but from what we can make out, your children eavesdropped on his conversation and found out about it. The – incident – in the lobby was probably to try to capture him and reveal the contents of his trunk. Whatever those kids planned, it certainly worked. We managed to recover all the stolen items. I'll transfer the amount which you paid tonight back to your bank account. Good night."
Daphne blinked in surprise. Once they were alone, she turned towards her kids, all three of them who were grinning proudly. An amused smile formed on her lips.
"I didn't know you three wanted to become Aurors," she teased. "Two thieves in one night? How did you even listen in on their conversation?"
"He and our babysitter were going to steal from us too," explained Belladonna.
"And we used this," said Charlie, holding an Extendable Ear, "to help us listen. We tied her up and planned to nab the other guy in the lobby ... which was when you walked in."
"Are we still grounded, Mummy?" asked James cheekily.
"Grounded?" Daphne chuckled. "You mean like back at the castle, with palatial accommodations, E-Mirrors in each of your rooms, a swimming pool, broomsticks, and house-elves? That's not punishment, that's royal treatment."
"Daddy already calls me princess," laughed Belladonna.
Daphne snorted in amusement. Kneeling down in front of them, she waited expectantly. The three of them squealed as they jumped into the arms of their mother. She closed her eyes in contentment, breathing deeply.
"I'm so proud of you kids," Daphne whispered, inhaling their scents that had become so familiar. "But promise me that you'll never put yourself in such danger again!"
"Yes, Mummy," they chorused. It wasn't a promise, but that was all she would get at the moment.
Daphne kissed their foreheads affectionately. They may be among the most troublesome kids on the planet, but she and Harry wouldn't give them up for anything in the world