The dimly lit room of Blackmoor Estate was a study in stillness, broken only by the soft flicker of candlelight. The air held the weight of time itself, heavy with the centuries-old secrets and the quiet echoes of history. Melania Black sat at her desk, her fingers delicately tracing the edges of parchment as she sorted through an assortment of documents. Her striking features—pale and exquisite—were framed by the deep waves of her dark hair, which cascaded around her shoulders like a midnight waterfall. Her deep-set, expressive eyes moved with a calculated grace over the letters, as if each word held the weight of decisions yet to be made.
Melania's face, a portrait of both intellect and beauty, betrayed little of the quiet storm she held within. She was every bit the Black matriarch—elegant, composed, and fiercely determined. The power of her lineage was palpable, and there was an unspoken strength in her presence that made her more than a mere figurehead; she was a force to be reckoned with.
But in that moment, all the poised serenity she projected was shattered.
With a sudden pop, a House Elf appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and ears twitching with barely contained excitement. It was the kind of news that no elf would dare to contain, even if the family matron were in the middle of the most important of decisions.
"Mistress Melania, Mistress Melania!" the elf squeaked, practically hopping in place. "Master Charlus and Mistress Dorea are awake!"
Melania's brow furrowed in disbelief. She blinked once, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the words, as though her ears had betrayed her. "Are you certain?" Her voice, though soft, was edged with urgency—a tremor of hope beginning to seep through.
The elf, eager to confirm its news, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Mistress! They are awake! I heard it from the Healer myself!"
Her heart began to race, and her breath caught in her throat. Without another word, Melania stood from her desk, pushing the parchment aside with a swish of her hand. "Go and inform Master Arcturus. Tell him to come immediately." The sharpness of her tone left no room for hesitation.
The House Elf vanished with a pop as Melania swept from the room, her robes trailing behind her like a shadow. Her feet barely made a sound as she moved through the corridors of the Blackmoor Estate, the walls seeming to echo with the weight of generations gone by. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. Charlus and Dorea—alive, after all this time? The thought was both a miracle and a burden. The family's legacy had lain dormant for too long, and now, it seemed, they were all poised to reawaken, just as the world outside began to change.
Melania pushed open the door to the familiar room and stepped inside. The moment she saw Charlus and Dorea sitting up in their beds, the weight of years lifted from her shoulders, though a hint of disbelief still lingered in her gaze. Dorea, with her dark, penetrating eyes and the regal sharpness that defined her every movement, looked far too composed for someone who had just awoken from an interminable sleep. Charlus, ever the stoic patriarch, leaned slightly toward Dorea, his hand still gripping hers tightly, his eyes bright with the shock of returning to life but carrying that same unyielding air of authority.
Melania's breath caught in her chest as she crossed the room toward them. She barely noticed the soft, uneven sound of her heels against the floor as she walked, the years of uncertainty and absence now replaced with this incredible, surreal moment.
"Charlus, Dorea," she said, her voice hushed with emotion, "I can't believe it. You're awake."
Dorea's lips quirked into a bittersweet smile, the same smile that had always been there during their most trying times, full of wisdom and weary resolve. Her hands reached for Melania, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "It seems that the world has gone on without us," Dorea whispered, her voice laced with a tremor of exhaustion, yet a sense of determination still lingered in her every word.
"Missed so much," Dorea added, her eyes glistening with unspoken sorrow.
Melania held her a moment longer than perhaps was necessary, her fingers tracing the fine silk of Dorea's gown, grounding herself in the truth of this moment. She pulled back slowly, her eyes scanning the two of them as she tried to quell the sudden surge of emotion.
"I've missed you both," Melania said, her voice raw, though still full of the same strength that had kept the Black family afloat in the darkest of times. She forced herself to stand back, to focus on the present, as their reunion held the weight of not only their past but of everything that was yet to come.
"There's so much to catch up on," she continued, her gaze flicking to Charlus, who gave a weary but knowing smile. The same sharp intelligence and dry wit that had always marked him as one of the most formidable men in the family still shone through.
"Oh, I'm sure you have plenty to fill me in on," Charlus said with that characteristic, dry edge in his voice, though it was gentler than usual—shaped by years of forced slumber and the weight of missing out on what had been. "What have I missed this time? More nonsense from the Ministry?"
Dorea gave a small huff of amusement, her lips curling in the way only she could manage. "Oh, don't get him started on the Ministry, Melania," she said, her eyes twinkling despite everything. "I'm sure he's already plotting to take over the entire bureaucracy."
Melania raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "And you know that's exactly what I would do, if I had the chance," Charlus said with the faintest trace of smug satisfaction. "But right now, we need to focus on what comes next, don't we?"
Melania took a step back and nodded, the smile fading as reality returned. "Arcturus will be here soon," she said, her tone more somber now. "And together, we'll figure out our next steps. We have much to do."
Dorea's gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, she allowed herself a full, unguarded smile. "It seems there is still much to be done, after all. But let's not rush, my dear. For now, let's just breathe."
As the Potters, now awakened, settled into the quiet that filled the room, there was a palpable sense of change. Their family was reborn, and with them, a new chapter in the Black legacy was about to unfold—a chapter that would see the return of the Black Dragon, the resurgence of their power, and the rekindling of the flame that had long been dormant in the Potter bloodline.
—
The grand marble halls of Gringotts Wizarding Bank were as imposing as ever, their high ceilings and gleaming floors echoing with the quiet bustle of the bank's daily operations. Arcturus Black moved through these halls like a predator, his tall, commanding frame cutting a path through the crowded space. His silver hair, perfectly groomed, reflected the soft glow of the overhead lights, while his dark, piercing eyes scanned every corner of the room with calculated precision. To those who met him, Arcturus was an intimidating presence—sharp, aristocratic features belying a mind as keen as any blade.
The goblin he was in the middle of negotiating with noticed Arcturus' intensity but didn't flinch. The Black patriarch was a fixture in the wizarding world, known for his stern demeanor and cold efficiency. His wealth and influence were rivaled only by his unwavering control over any situation.
Arcturus' low voice cut through the tension in the room. "We will resume this discussion later," he said, with an authority that brooked no argument. The goblin grumbled but quickly nodded in agreement, sensing that this interruption was of far greater consequence than their ongoing negotiations.
Before the goblin could protest further, a soft pop sounded from the far corner of the room. Arcturus' eyes flickered toward the sound, and a House Elf appeared, its oversized ears twitching with excitement. The elf barely had time to speak before Arcturus silenced him with a sharp glance.
"Master Arcturus," the elf said breathlessly, "Mistress Melania sent me. Master Charlus and Mistress Dorea are awake!"
For the briefest moment, Arcturus' stern mask slipped, and the weight of years of waiting and uncertainty crept across his face. His voice, usually smooth and measured, held a rare edge of hope. "Are you certain?" he demanded, his deep baritone resounding through the marble halls.
"Yes, Master," the elf confirmed. "Mistress Melania is with them now."
Arcturus didn't waste another second. He nodded curtly at the goblin, dismissing them without a word. "We'll speak later," he added, his tone like the closing of a door. Without turning back, he strode toward the bank's exit, his robes billowing behind him with the force of his urgency.
Once outside, he took a quick glance around, ensuring the streets were clear before Disapparating. With a soft pop, he reappeared at the gates of Blackmoor Estate, his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and dread settling over him.
The corridors of the estate felt like home, yet the passage of time weighed heavily on his shoulders. The steps that had once been so familiar now seemed like a strange echo of the past, reminding him of all that had been lost. His heart raced as he reached the door to the room where Charlus and Dorea had lain dormant for so long. His hand trembled slightly as he pushed open the door.
Inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, and there, sitting at the edge of their beds, were Charlus and Dorea. They looked around the room with expressions of confusion and awe, as though they had just returned from the brink of another world. Melania stood beside them, her face illuminated by the flickering light, her features betraying an emotion she rarely allowed others to see.
Arcturus felt a swell of joy and relief that almost overwhelmed him. He crossed the room to them in a few swift steps, his voice thick with emotion. "Charlus, Dorea," he said, his baritone voice carrying the weight of their shared history. "Welcome back."
Charlus, his tall form a silhouette against the shadows, looked up with a faint but genuine smile, his usually severe features softened with the warmth of recognition. "Arcturus," he said, his voice rough but laced with affection, "I never thought I'd see the day."
Dorea, ever the regal matriarch, reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against Arcturus' with an elegance that belied the exhaustion she must have felt. Her deep, dark eyes shone with unshed tears, but her voice was steady, as if she had been bracing herself for this moment for far longer than she could have known. "We never thought we'd wake," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of all the years of fear and uncertainty.
Arcturus took her hand, his grip firm yet comforting. "You've both been greatly missed," he said quietly, his voice betraying a rare vulnerability. "But you're here now, and that's all that matters."
The room fell into a moment of silence as the weight of their return settled over them. The past, with all its wounds, suddenly felt distant, almost irrelevant. What mattered now was the present—their survival, their future.
"Well," Charlus broke the silence with his characteristic dry wit, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "if this is what waking up feels like, I'll admit, I'm rather disappointed. No grand celebration, no fireworks... not even a proper cup of tea."
Dorea let out a short laugh, her lips curving into that sharp, knowing smile that had always been her trademark. "Honestly, Charlus, I expected a little more fanfare," she teased, though there was a soft warmth beneath her words. "We've been asleep for centuries, and not even a celebratory feast?"
Arcturus' face softened for the briefest moment, the weight of their shared history and his own emotions making the usual rigidity in his posture falter. "There will be time for that," he said with a rare, faint smile. "But for now, we have much to discuss."
Charlus raised an eyebrow, clearly still trying to adjust to the sudden surge of activity and conversation. "What's the plan, then, Arcturus? The world has likely changed in our absence."
"It has," Arcturus acknowledged, his voice turning more serious. "But now, with you both awake, we are stronger than ever. We have a legacy to protect, and a future to secure. The world may have changed, but the Black Dragon will rise again. Our grandson, Harry, must be protected, no matter the cost."
Melania stepped forward, her eyes glistening with emotion. "We will rebuild," she said, her voice low and powerful. "Together, we will restore the Potter name and ensure that our family's legacy endures."
The room seemed to pulse with an energy all its own, as though the very walls of Blackmoor Estate recognized the significance of their return.
Charlus, ever the pragmatist, leaned back against his pillows and surveyed the scene with his usual penetrating gaze. "Well then," he said, looking between Arcturus and Melania, "I suppose we should get to work, shouldn't we?"
Dorea smiled, her eyes meeting his with a look that spoke volumes about their partnership, their shared history. "Yes, Charlus," she said, her voice filled with quiet determination. "Now, we begin again."
And as Arcturus, Charlus, and Dorea exchanged knowing glances, a renewed sense of purpose settled over them. Together, they would rise from the ashes of the past, united in their strength, their legacy, and their commitment to the family that had been their life's work. The Black Dragon was stirring once more.
—
The warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the gravity of the conversation that had just begun. As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, Arcturus Black, the patriarch of the Black family, settled into an armchair, his tall, imposing figure seeming to command the very air around him. His sharp, aristocratic features remained unreadable, though the tension in his posture spoke volumes. Beside him sat Melania, her beauty undiminished by the years, her gaze focused and calculating, though her lips barely moved as she watched Charlus and Dorea.
Across from them, Charlus Potter, ever the dignified and stoic figure, sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing slightly, his brow furrowing in that way he did when something wasn't quite right. Dorea, his wife, sat beside him, her dark eyes filled with the same strength that had carried her through the loss of so many people close to her. Her posture was regal, but her sharp, penetrating gaze softened as she focused on the news to come.
Arcturus cleared his throat, his voice low and rich with the weight of authority as he spoke. "I must begin by telling you, both of you, that much has transpired in the years since your... incapacitation."
Charlus raised an eyebrow at Arcturus's formal tone. "Arcturus, don't mince words. What is it?"
Arcturus, despite his usual reserved nature, couldn't quite hide the flicker of something resembling relief in his eyes. "James," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, "married Lily Evans."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, both Charlus and Dorea were silent. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Dorea's sharp voice cut through the tension. "Lily Evans?" she repeated, incredulous. "That girl who once thought our son was nothing but a glorified prat? A 'bully' she called him, if I recall?"
Melania, sitting at Arcturus's side, allowed herself a quiet smile, a trace of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Yes, that Lily," she said softly, "but time and circumstance have a way of making strange bedfellows." She gave a slight shrug, as if to say, What can you do?
Dorea's lips twitched in a rare smirk. "Well, I'll be damned," she muttered. "Lily Evans, a Potter." Her voice softened, an almost imperceptible fondness creeping in. "And she gave James the greatest gift."
"Your grandson," Arcturus added, his deep voice holding an edge of emotion he rarely allowed to surface. "Hadrian James Potter, though he goes by Harry."
"Harry," Charlus repeated slowly, a trace of awe in his voice. "I thought we'd never see another generation of Potters." His expression hardened with resolve. "Tell me everything."
Arcturus's face darkened. "James and Lily were killed by Voldemort. On Halloween night in 1981, the Dark Lord found them, but Harry survived." His words were heavy with grief and anger, the name of their murderer never far from his thoughts.
Dorea's hand trembled as she reached for Charlus's, the reality of their son's death crashing down on her once more. "James... Lily..." she whispered. "Our son. Our beautiful James..."
Charlus clenched his jaw, the pain of loss old yet still as sharp as ever. His voice was thick with emotion as he asked, "How did it happen?"
"It was Voldemort," Arcturus replied, his tone as cold and hard as ice. "But Harry survived. The curse backfired, killing Voldemort, or at least sending him into hiding for a time."
Dorea's eyes burned with unshed tears, her lips tight with sorrow. "So, our grandson lives, but our son and his wife are dead," she murmured. She turned to Melania. "I assume this isn't the end of the tale, is it?"
Melania shook her head. "No, there's more." She caught Dorea's gaze, her eyes dark and full of resolve. "Sirius was falsely accused of betraying James and Lily. The Ministry, in their usual haste, locked him away in Azkaban without trial. It was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed them, not Sirius."
At the mention of Sirius's name, Charlus's brow furrowed in outrage. "Sirius? Betray James? He's as loyal as they come. This is an injustice!" His voice was gruff, but there was a faint quiver of anger in it. "Did they never even bother to listen to him?"
"Not in the slightest," Arcturus agreed bitterly. "No trial, no defense. They were all too eager to silence him."
Dorea shook her head, a flash of fury crossing her face. "That's absurd. The Ministry and their damnable bureaucracy. Sirius deserves so much better." She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "And to think they have him locked away without reason..."
Arcturus gave a heavy sigh, looking down at his hands, which were clasped in front of him as if to keep himself composed. "That is not the worst of it. After their deaths, Dumbledore made the decision to place Harry with his aunt and uncle—the Dursleys."
"Wait," Charlus interjected, his voice sharp. "The Dursleys? Muggles? Why on Earth would he do that? Surely there are relatives who could have cared for him properly."
"I too question Dumbledore's decision," Arcturus admitted, his tone tinged with regret. "He believed the blood wards placed there would keep Harry safe. But it has caused more harm than good."
"Damned fool," Dorea muttered, her eyes narrowing in distaste. "He had no business making that choice for our family." Her voice softened as she looked at her husband. "He should have been with you."
"Indeed," Melania added. "But now we know. We must find him, Charlus. We can't waste another second."
Charlus stood abruptly, his movements swift and sure. "You're right. Our grandson is out there, and we'll find him. We'll bring him home where he belongs."
Arcturus's gaze hardened, his eyes filled with a quiet fury. "The time for waiting is over. We have the means, the resources, and the will. We will not stop until Harry is in our care."
Dorea stood as well, her presence as commanding as ever, her voice resolute. "I may not have borne him, but Harry Potter is as much my family as James was. And no one, not even Dumbledore, will stand in our way."
Arcturus nodded, his expression filled with a mixture of pride and solemnity. "Agreed. The legacy of the Potters and Blacks will not fall to shadows. We will find Harry, and we will protect him, no matter what."
As the four of them exchanged glances, a newfound resolve settled over them like a mantle. The past was full of loss and pain, but it was now their future that mattered—the future of Harry Potter, the grandson they had longed for, and the legacy that would rise anew. The Black Dragon was once again awakened, and the Potters would stand alongside them, united in their unbreakable family bond.
—
The grand drawing room at Blackmoor Estate was filled with the weight of history, its high ceilings and walls lined with ancient portraits casting long shadows over the four figures seated around the polished table. The rich wood beneath their fingertips was a silent witness to the conversation that was about to unfold. As the last embers of the fire flickered in the hearth, the air grew heavy with the gravity of the task at hand.
Charlus Potter, tall and regal with a sharp nose and the bearing of a man accustomed to leadership, stood at the head of the table. His presence alone commanded attention. "We cannot afford to delay any longer," he began, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. "We need to gather all available resources. There is no room for error. If we're going to find Harry, we will need the help of those we can trust implicitly."
Dorea, ever the calm and calculating force in the family, folded her hands neatly before her, her sharp, calculating eyes glinting beneath the weight of her thoughts. "Trust. That is a luxury we can ill afford," she replied in a tone as crisp and measured as the finest silk. "But you are right, Charlus. We can't do this alone. The stakes are too high."
Arcturus Black, seated to her right, let out a low chuckle, his deep voice reverberating like the sound of thunder in an empty cavern. His gaze, cold and calculating, shifted over the group. "And you think our so-called 'friends' will suddenly remember the meaning of loyalty?" His lips curled in a thin, wry smile. "We may need to remind a few of them, but there are still those who owe us... favors. They will come through."
Melania, her dark eyes smoldering like embers beneath the surface, nodded slowly, her voice smooth as velvet. "If we can find Sirius, it may give us an edge. He knows things—things Dumbledore has kept from us. If we clear his name, we may find a powerful ally in the process." She sat back, her fingers brushing her chin thoughtfully. "Though I dare say, convincing a man rotting away in Azkaban will not be a simple task."
Charlus gave a grim smile, the lines of his face deepening with the years of experience that had shaped him. "No, I imagine not. But there are worse fates than being forced to work with a Black." His voice was tinged with a biting humor. "No one said this was going to be easy. But it's time we take action."
Dorea's gaze flicked toward the large windows, the soft rustle of the curtains the only sound in the stillness of the room. "First things first," she began, her voice low and steady. "We need to find Harry. The Dursleys are the key. They may be Muggles, but they may have left a trail we can follow. We must search every inch of their movements."
"Start with the magical signatures," Arcturus suggested, his voice sharp and commanding. "There are ways to trace magic, even Muggle-bred magic. We'll find something. It's a matter of knowing where to look."
Dorea, her mind already ticking off possibilities, shot a sharp glance at Arcturus. "And if we can't find any trace of him there? We need to be prepared for that possibility. The last thing we need is to be caught unawares."
"Then we broaden the search," Charlus interjected, his deep voice filled with unspoken authority. "Reach out to the Order of the Phoenix. I know the old fool's plans have rarely made sense, but some of his allies may still owe us something. Maybe they'll be more cooperative when they see the stakes."
Melania's lips curved slightly, though her eyes remained unreadable. "Dumbledore will not be so easily swayed. We all know that. But if we cannot get direct answers from him, perhaps we can find someone who has access to the information we need." Her gaze shifted to Arcturus. "Your contacts, Arcturus, are they reliable enough to help us, even if it means stepping on a few toes?"
Arcturus' voice was a low growl. "They are reliable enough. If I have to summon favors from the depths of the darkest corners of the magical world, I will. But we need to move with discretion. No one must know what we're doing until it's too late."
Dorea raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly smile. "I'd say that's a given, Arcturus. We can't have the Ministry breathing down our necks just yet. There are... complications with certain individuals that we can do without."
Charlus' voice broke through the banter like the sound of an axe chopping wood. "There is no time to waste. I will reach out to my contacts in the Ministry. The time for subtlety is over. If we are going to find Harry, we must act quickly."
"Before we do anything rash," Melania said, her voice quiet but firm, "let's remember that the last time we moved in haste, it cost us. Let's not forget the lessons of the past."
Charlus gave her a steady, understanding look. "I haven't forgotten, Melania. But we cannot afford to hesitate any longer. We will find Harry—and we will bring him home."
Arcturus leaned forward, his deep eyes gleaming with intensity. "And when we do, we will ensure that he is protected. The wards around Blackmoor are already strong, but we will reinforce them. No one will touch him again. Not while we are still breathing."
Dorea's voice softened, though there was an edge to it that belied her calm demeanor. "And what of Potter Manor? It has been abandoned for too long. We haven't set foot there since the attack." She looked at Charlus, her gaze piercing. "Is it still habitable? Or will we need to make arrangements elsewhere?"
Charlus paused, furrowing his brow as he considered the question. "I... I don't know. Arcturus, what is the state of Potter Manor?"
Arcturus gave a curt nod, his voice laced with an eerie calm. "The estate is largely intact. The wards you placed were resilient, but the damage inside is considerable. It will need repairs, but it is still... ours." He gave a brief, half-smile. "It will take time, but I can have the necessary work done. Once Harry is safe, Potter Manor will become our refuge again."
Melania raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Well then, I suppose we have a lot to do before we can even think about bringing him home. Let's make sure our resources are in place and our allies know what's at stake."
Charlus' gaze turned back to the group, the determination in his eyes unmistakable. "This is no longer about recovering what was lost. It's about keeping what remains—and that includes Harry. We will find him, no matter what."
Dorea leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "And when we do," she said, her voice dark with resolve, "we will remind Dumbledore exactly why we are not to be underestimated."
—
As the room grew heavy with the weight of their discussion, Dorea, ever sharp, interjected with a thoughtful question, her voice smooth and authoritative despite the tremor of concern in her eyes. "Arcturus, Melania, have you heard anything of the Potter Elves? Are any of them still alive after the attack? If they've survived, they may be able to help us find Harry."
Arcturus exchanged a brief glance with Melania, the flicker of unspoken understanding passing between them like a shadow before he responded, his voice deep and gravelly, like the rumble of a far-off storm. "Indeed, I've heard. Kreth, the Head-Elf, managed to survive. He managed to evade the initial strike and has been in hiding since then, recovering and keeping his head down."
Melania, her dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of pragmatism and determination, added, "Kreth is no fool. He's resourceful, fiercely loyal, and if anyone can track down Harry, it's him. We've trusted him for years."
Charlus, ever the commanding figure, wasted no time, his voice cutting through the room like a sharp blade. "Kreth!" he called out, his tone firm, filled with the urgency of their mission.
The air in the room shifted. A soft, almost imperceptible shimmer filled the space before the unmistakable pop of an apparition echoed through the estate. A figure appeared before them—a small, gangly elf with bat-like ears and large, luminous eyes that glinted with a mix of both surprise and joy.
"Kreth!" Charlus said again, his tone softening as he regarded the familiar face. The elf's eyes grew even wider, and a wide grin spread across his face as he straightened up, looking a bit flustered but overwhelmingly pleased to see them.
"Master Charlus! Mistress Dorea!" Kreth squeaked, his voice filled with delight. "Kreth did not believe his eyes for a moment. It's truly you!"
Charlus smiled, his usual stoic nature momentarily giving way to a rare warmth. "It is indeed us, Kreth. We've missed you more than you could know."
Dorea's voice was equally filled with affection as she added, "My dear Kreth, I cannot tell you how good it is to see you again. You've been a faithful companion to us all these years."
Kreth shuffled forward, his long, bat-like ears twitching in excitement. "Mistress Dorea, Master Charlus, Kreth is so very happy! Kreth has missed you both terribly. The manor has been so empty without your presence."
Charlus' face softened with a trace of emotion, and he placed a hand on Kreth's shoulder. "We've missed you too, old friend. Your loyalty has never gone unnoticed. And it never will."
Dorea nodded, her eyes glistening with a rare tenderness. "Indeed, Kreth. You've been more than just an elf to us. You've been family."
Kreth's eyes gleamed with an expression of pure adoration. "Oh, Mistress Dorea, Master Charlus, Kreth lives to serve you. Your kindness has been more than any elf could ever wish for."
It was clear that Kreth's devotion ran deep, and it was an emotion that both Charlus and Dorea shared in return. After a moment, Charlus's expression turned serious once more, his voice growing more focused.
"Kreth, we need your help," he said, his commanding tone returning. "Harry, our grandson, is in danger. He's been placed with Lily's sister, Petunia Dursley. But we don't know where they live. We need you to find him. Can you do this?"
Kreth, his large eyes widening in understanding, nodded solemnly, his expression now full of determination. "Of course, Master Charlus. Kreth will do everything in his power to find young Master Harry. Nothing will stop Kreth."
Arcturus, who had been silent until now, spoke with a grave authority that made his words feel like a weight in the room. "Kreth, be discreet. We cannot afford to alert anyone to our search. We must find Harry quietly, without raising suspicion. This search must be conducted with the utmost caution."
Kreth's ears twitched, and he bowed deeply, his voice full of resolve. "Kreth understands, Master Arcturus. I will find young Master Harry, and I will do so in silence. No one will know what Kreth is doing. I will be as quiet as a whisper in the night."
Melania, her voice smooth as velvet, added, "And once you find him, make sure he's safe. We cannot take any chances with his wellbeing."
Kreth's eyes gleamed with a determined light as he nodded. "Kreth will protect Master Harry as though he were his own child. Nothing will happen to him on Kreth's watch."
Charlus's face softened slightly as he placed a hand on the elf's shoulder again. "Thank you, Kreth. Your loyalty and dedication mean everything to us. When you bring Harry back to us, know that you will be rewarded beyond measure."
Kreth beamed, his grin wide and sincere. "Kreth needs no reward! Serving you is reward enough, Master Charlus, Mistress Dorea. Kreth will do whatever it takes."
With a final, determined nod, Kreth vanished with a soft pop, leaving the room feeling quieter but no less filled with purpose.
Dorea let out a sigh, her eyes closing briefly. "We're one step closer," she murmured. "Now, we wait."
Arcturus, always one to keep his emotions in check, nodded gravely. "And pray that Kreth is as efficient as he claims to be."
Melania, her eyes dark and contemplative, added, "We can't afford mistakes. Our search must remain quiet and calculated. The moment we alert anyone, we risk Harry's safety."
Charlus, his voice as steady and commanding as ever, spoke again, "We will find Harry, no matter the cost. And when we do, we will ensure he is protected. That is our only priority."
And so, with a renewed sense of resolve, the group turned to their plans, each of them aware of the risks, but determined not to rest until Harry was safely back in their arms. Their mission had begun.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!