The morning sunlight crept through the windows of 12 Grimmauld Place, casting a warm glow across the master bedroom where Harry Potter lay awake, his emerald eyes fixed upon the ornate ceiling above. The house had changed dramatically since he'd inherited it years ago. Earlier, it was the perfect example of dark pureblood supremacy but it had been transformed into a cozy home that reflected none of its dark history.
The heads of house-elves and the screaming portrait of Walburga Black were left forgotten in the distant past, replaced instead with a massive chandelier and photographs of friends both living and lost, and artifacts that spoke of a profession he had found his love in. The décor had also been transformed, no longer reflecting shades of the old Black townhouse but instead looking distinctly muggle.
Harry had taken adequate care to ensure the house was a perfect reflection of who he was as a person and he was confident that the Blacks must be rolling in their graves at the state of their house, while Sirius must be dancing a jig. The thought always amused Harry to no end.
As he lay awake, his fingers absently traced the faint lightning bolt scar on his forehead, a habit he'd never quite abandoned even though it hadn't pained him since that final confrontation with Voldemort. Five years had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, yet the memories remained as vivid as ever—not just of the battle itself, but of everything that followed in its wake.
At twenty-five, Harry had found himself walking a road not many would have predicted for him.
The decision to join the Department of Mysteries had surprised almost everyone who knew him, but perhaps no one was more surprised than he himself was. Everyone had expected him to join the Auror Corps, to continue being the hero, the savior of the Wizarding World. However, the war had changed him in ways that took him years to fully understand. The mysteries he'd encountered throughout his journey—the Veil of Death, the prophecy that tied him to Voldemort, the ancient magic of love, and even time—it had all awakened something in him that couldn't be satisfied by only chasing dark wizards. Even though he had taken down many Death Eaters after Voldemort's death, he'd soon found that he wanted more out of his life.
Rolling onto his side, Harry's gaze fell upon the empty space beside him. Not for the first time, he sighed.
Relationships had proven... complicated since the war ended. His brief reconciliation with Ginny after the war had fizzled out naturally, and both of them recognized that they'd grown in different directions during that terrible year. It did not have as adverse an effect on his relationship with the Weasley family as he'd first thought, but with Ginny getting married a couple of years ago, he felt as though he was intruding into the family and the bond they should form with their son-in-law, and he had slowly drifted away from them. The Weasleys were not happy with his excuses to avoid family gatherings, none more so than Ron and Hermione, but there was not much they could really do about it.
The Prophet and the Witch Weekly still occasionally ran speculations about his love life, but the truth was far less sensational than their theories. He'd dated, yes, and there had been more than one flings slash one-night stands with women both magical and muggle, but he'd soon found that even though it was fun and exciting, casual sex was not for him, and very few could truly understand the burden he carried, the questions that consumed him, or the dedication that his work required.
The work itself though... Harry allowed himself a small smile as he thought about it. Fighting dark wizards was fun, he could not deny that, but it did not truly compare to his job as an Unspeakable.
The Department of Mysteries had revealed itself to be everything he'd hoped for and more. Each day came with new discoveries and new questions about the fundamental nature of magic itself. His current project, studying the intersection between sacrificial magic and soul bonds, felt particularly personal. Understanding the magic that had saved him as a baby, that had protected others during the final battle—it wasn't just academic curiosity, but a way of honoring those who'd given everything to protect the ones they loved.
It had given him new perspectives on the link that he had once shared with Voldemort, on the nature of souls and their division, on prophecy and choice and the thin lines between them. Sometimes he wondered if his entire life had been leading him to this path, to understanding the deeper currents of magic that flowed beneath the surface of reality.
Harry let out a yawn as he stretched. He finally pulled himself from the bed, making his way over to the bathroom as he padded across the wooden floors that no longer creaked with age, thanks to careful restoration work. The house had truly become his own.
As he stood before the mirror, running a futile hand through his eternally unruly hair and failing to fix it, Harry studied his reflection. He looked more like his father than ever, though his eyes—his mother's eyes—shone with experiences that none of them had lived long enough to know. The lightning bolt scar had faded to a thin silver line, barely visible unless you knew to look for it. He rather preferred it that way.
Fifteen minutes later, he was out, his hair dripping wet and a towel wrapped around his waist. He quickly put on a t-shirt and shorts, casting a cold drying charm on his hair, before making his way downstairs.
The scent of tea and bacon reached him before he entered the kitchen, and his lips curled into a small smile. Only one person would let themselves in at this hour, and only one person would attempt to cook breakfast in his kitchen with what sounded like considerable hassle.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he found her by the stove, her hair a cheerful color of turquoise that morning that she had left flowing behind her. She had a black tank top and denim shorts on, and for a moment, Harry simply took in the vision that she was. Her curvaceous figure was on full display, her slim waist exposed and her thick buttocks looking particularly delicious framed by those denims that looked as if they were painted on her curves.
She was humming to herself as she managed to simultaneously cook bacon and knock over a stack of clean plates with her elbow. Her quick wandwork caught them before they could shatter, and as he made himself known, she turned to him with a grin that hadn't changed since he'd first met her.
"Wotcher, Harry!" she called out as she gave him a wink before she quickly went back to cooking while trying to not make more of a mess. "You've been living off toast and tea again, haven't you?"
Harry leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with an amused expression on his face. "I do know how to cook, Nym. Better than you, in fact. Whatever you might think, I haven't been surviving on takeaway and charm-heated meals."
"Could've fooled me," she replied, trying to rescue the bacon before it could burn. "Last time I was here, this kitchen looked like it belonged to a first-year bachelor Auror trainee. Speaking of which, you wouldn't believe the new batch we've got. Makes us look like we were absolutely brilliant in comparison."
Chuckling, Harry moved to help her, giving her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek in greeting. Soon, he began expertly navigating around her occasional bouts of clumsiness as they worked together to prepare breakfast. It had become a comfortable routine on their shared days off, with Nym appearing with stories from the Auror office, while Harry provided a willing ear and occasionally shared the less classified aspects of his own work.
"Go on then," Harry said as they settled at the kitchen table, their plates loaded with bacon, eggs, and toast. "What did this batch do? Can't be worse than the time you nearly blew up the training room trying to demonstrate proper blasting curse technique."
Nym pointed her fork at him accusingly, her hair shifting to a defensive pink. "That was one time, and Moody said my form was acceptable. That's big praise from him, by the way. And it was the dummy that was defective." She took a bite of eggs before she continued, "But this lot... Merlin's pants, Harry. We had them practicing concealment charms yesterday. One of them managed to make himself invisible alright, except he did it with his clothes. Stood there starkers and didn't even realize for a good five minutes why everyone was laughing."
Harry almost choked on his tea at the image, slowly putting the cup back on the table. "Remind me again why you became a training instructor?"
"Because watching the new recruits mess up makes me feel better about my own disasters," she said cheerfully, making him roll his eyes fondly. "Besides, someone's got to teach them proper techniques. Can't all be mysterious Unspeakables who get to play with time and souls all day. Speaking of time and souls, how's the latest project coming along? Still trying to unravel the mysteries of time travel and soul magic?"
Harry took a bite of perfectly crispy bacon. "You know I can't talk about that. Official secrets and all that. Just telling you what I'm working on is pushing it."
There was no reproach in his tone though. Nym was the only one who knew even the general outline of his work, and he trusted her discretion implicitly.
"Please," Nym rolled her eyes, her hair flickering briefly to match the exact shade of his own black locks. "As if half the Department doesn't already know I'm your unofficial sounding board. Besides, what's the point of having a best friend and a former FWB in the Auror office if you can't occasionally bend the rules about classified information?"
"That was a long time ago," Harry said dryly.
"Don't act as if you haven't been wanting a repeat of those nights," Nym smirked as she leaned forward, enlarging her tits in that tank top she was wearing. Harry could not help but take a long, appreciative glance at her massive cleavage, and judging by the proud smirk on her face, she was loving the attention.
"The point," Harry replied dryly, trying to move away from the topic before they descended deeper into it, "is having someone to bail me out when an experiment goes wrong and I accidentally turn myself into a talking bird." He paused, and then added, "Again."
Nym rolled her eyes as she reverted her tits to normal, pointing the fork at him once again. "That was ONE time! And you made an adorable eagle, even if you did keep flying around like a jet and trying to drill a hole through the stone."
"Poking, more like," he muttered.
Nym let out a laugh, and Harry could not help but join in. Her personality was contagious, and he was truly grateful for her continued presence in his life.
These morning conversations had become a cherished ritual over the years, a chance for both of them to shed their professional personas and simply be Harry and Nym—two people who'd seen too much, lost too much, but found in each other a strong bond. It had been coming, truly, the first time they had slept together. None had truly planned on it, but a few old memories over a bottle of firewhiskey had loosened their inhibitions to the point where they had simply given in to their instincts and pounced on each other, consequences be damned.
What followed was a weekend of nothing but pure, carnal sex as Nym demonstrated her unique metamorphic abilities on him in the bedroom while Harry brought her the most intense climaxes of her life.
Almost a year had passed since that weekend, and although they had followed up on it over the next few weekends, Harry had slowly pulled away. He knew Nym was not ready for a relationship back then, and he did not think he could keep it up anymore without truly being with her.
His feelings for the woman had not diminished in the slightest, and over the past year, he had thought several times to ask her out. However, the appropriate moment never seemed to present itself.
Furthermore, they both were too occupied with their respective work to give a proper relationship a go, and even though Nym had asked him multiple times to have some fun, he simply could not bring himself to do it without truly being in a relationship with her. Nym understood, even though she kept trying to tempt him.
"Actually," Harry said after they'd made considerable progress through breakfast, shaking his head to clear off those thoughts, "there is something I've been working on that I'd like your involvement in. From a professional perspective," he added quickly, seeing her eyes light up suggestively. "It's related to Auror training protocols."
"Well, I guess I can help you out with whatever it is," Nym said dryly before she leaned forward, her hair shifting to a more serious navy blue. "What kind of protocols are we talking about?"
"The defensive ones, specifically. I've been studying the magical theory behind Shield Charms, trying to understand why some people can produce them instinctively in moments of crisis while others struggle even with proper training." Harry's eyes took on the intense focus that appeared whenever he discussed his work. "I have a theory that it's connected to the same principle that allows mothers to protect their children, like..." he trailed off, but Nym nodded in understanding.
"Like your mum did for you," she finished softly. "You think love plays a role in defensive magic?"
"Not just love," Harry explained, warming to the topic. "Intent. Emotional investment. The profound desire to protect something or someone valuable to you. I think we might be teaching Shield Charms wrong, focusing too much on the mechanical aspects and not enough on the emotional core of the magic."
Nym considered this as she absently transitioned her hair through various colors. "That... actually makes a lot of sense. It would explain why Aurors often perform better in real situations protecting civilians than they do in training exercises."
"That's fascinating!" Harry remarked, grabbing their plates and wandlessly cleaning them up. As he set them up on the rack, Nym stood up and clapped her hands.
"Come on then, show me what you're working on today. Promise I won't tell anyone about your secret time machine or whatever it is."
"It's not a time machine," Harry rolled his eyes as he led the way.
His study was a room that would have made Hermione proud, although perhaps also slightly concerned. Books lined every wall and various magical instruments whirred and puffed on every available surface, some recognizable as more elaborate versions of the devices that had once filled Dumbledore's office, while others were completely mysterious in their purpose. A large blackboard covered one wall, covered in complex arithmantic equations and diagrams that seemed to shift slightly when viewed from different angles.
"Don't touch anything," Harry warned automatically as Nym entered behind him. "Some of these experiments are in rather delicate stages."
"You say that every time," Nym replied, making her way to what had become her unofficial observation spot – a comfortable armchair in the corner that offered a good view of Harry's main workbench. "And yet you've never actually stopped me from looking around."
Harry smiled as he began gathering materials from various shelves. "That's because you're one of the few people I trust to understand the difference between looking and touching. Besides," he added with a slight smirk, "after the Singing Salamander incident, I think you learned your lesson."
"We agreed never to speak of that again," Nym pointed accusingly, though her hair flickered through amused shades of pink. "But yes, point taken. Now, show me what you've been working on."
"Technically, I'm not supposed to show you any of this," he said, more out of habit than actual concern as he began activating the various privacy wards around the room. "Department regulations are very clear about—"
"About unauthorized personnel and classified research, yeah, yeah," Nym finished for him, dropping into his armchair with familiar ease. "Good thing I'm not unauthorized personnel—I'm your best girl who also happens to be a highly trained Auror with top-level security clearance. Still, who am I going to tell? The recruits? They're still trying to figure out which end of the wand to hold."
Harry shook his head with a smile as he began to explain his latest research, laying out diagrams and demonstrating experimental charm variations. Nym watched with genuine interest as he checked various readings and adjusted delicate silver instruments, occasionally asking questions which he was happy to answer.
As they continued, Harry felt a profound sense of gratitude for these moments. In the aftermath of the war, when everyone else had expected him to continue being their savior and their hero, Nym had been one of the few who simply let him be Harry. Their relationship, both as friends and more, had become one of the most coveted aspects of his life that he cherished beyond all else, and it kept him grounded as he went about his life.
"You know," she said after a while, her tone unusually thoughtful, "I reckon this suits you better than being an Auror would have. You've got that look about you now – like you're exactly where you're supposed to be."
Harry paused in his work, looking at her thoughtfully. She had a small smile on her face that was a rare sight in itself, but something told him there was a deeper meaning behind this one.
"I think you're right," he said quietly. "It's not the life anyone expected me to have, but..."
"But it's yours," Nym finished for him with an understanding smile on her face. "Only you have the right to decide how you spend your life. Doing what you really want… that's the best way to live your life."
Harry stared at her for a long moment, his eyes searching her features before he turned back to his work, missing how Nym gave him a gentle smile before she began looking around. Her fingers hovered over various instruments scattered around his office before she came to a stop at his desk where she saw a small crystalline sphere on a stand. Its surface swirled with opalescent mists that seemed to pulse, and it felt as if it was alive.
"What's this one then?" she asked as her hair shifted to a shade of violet that matched the sphere's ethereal glow. "Looks a bit like a remembrall, but more... alive somehow."
Harry glanced up from his notes, his eyes falling on the artifact, and a small smile emerged on his face. "That's the Tempus Anima Sphere. It's designed to temporarily restore a person to the moment their magic fully matured – usually around eighteen. We're studying how magical cores develop and stabilize." He walked over to stand beside her, reaching out to pick the sphere up. "The theory is that understanding that critical point of magical maturation could help us develop better therapeutic techniques for magical trauma."
"Eighteen, eh?" Nym mused, her fingers unconsciously reaching toward the sphere. Harry allowed her to grab hold of it. "That was a good year for me. Finally settled on being an Auror after getting the OWLs I needed, especially to get into Snape's Potions class, still clumsy as a drunk hippogriff but finally starting to feel like I belonged somewhere."
"Be careful with that," Harry warned as Nym held it up between them. "It's still experimental. We haven't quite worked out all the details yet."
"Don't worry," Nym rolled her eyes. "I'm perfectly—"
Her shoe only brushed the table, but it was enough to disturb the delicate silver instrument that Harry had been using to measure temporal resonance. The device toppled, its crystalline components shattering against the desk in a shower of silver dust and temporal magic. The dust scattered across the Tempus Anima Sphere, which began to pulse in Nym's hand with an increasingly intense light.
"Merlin's saggy—" Nym started to swear, but the rest of her words were lost as the sphere's surface began to crack just as a panicked Harry reached out to grab it. Tendrils of opalescent magical energy emerged from the glowing orb, wrapping around both of them.
Harry felt it as a tugging sensation behind his navel, akin to a portkey but not entirely. It was much more forceful, and it felt as though the pull originated from his soul instead of his physical form. As he reached out and grabbed both her hand and the sphere, it shattered.
The world around them began to fragment into shards before it dissolved into swirling patterns of light and shadow. Time and space bent for each other, becoming fluid instead of concrete realities. Both Harry and Nym felt as if they were being dissected and then recreated, their ears ringing and their eyes shut tight as they could do nothing but stand powerlessly. Throughout it all, they maintain a firm grip on each other, and both felt as if a connection had been created between them. None knew its nature, and it was beyond mere physical touch.
When the world coalesced around them once again, they were back in Harry's study, only it wasn't his study anymore. Gone were the carefully organized research materials and comfortable furniture. Instead, they stood in a room cluttered with discarded possessions. The dust was thick in the air and a sense of dark magic lingered in the corners like old cobwebs.
Harry thought he had gotten rid of all the darkness that once permeated the Black townhouse, but it felt as if all the darkness had returned with a vengeance.
"Did this room revert? I don't want the headache of sorting it all out again," Harry muttered as he looked around. It took him a moment, but he soon became aware that something was different with him. His body felt younger, leaner, and thrumming with the raw energy of newly matured magic. However, that was not where the changes ended.
"What the hell?" He muttered, looking at Nym, only she looked much younger than he'd ever seen her. His eyes showed her younger version, with her hair pitch black and her eyes wide in shock, but there was another sense assaulting his mind, and it let him feel her confusion and disorientation that he was feeling as well.
"Harry? What's happened?" Nym's voice was higher, younger, but still unmistakably hers. "I can… I can feel you. Your emotions. In my head. It's weird… Not in a bad way like Legilimency, more like…" She trailed off, her hand rising to her chest where an unfamiliar warmth pulsed within her in perfect sync with her heartbeat.
"It feels like an echo," Harry whispered, concentrating to piece everything together. "Or maybe a reflection. I can feel your magic too… It feels different. Not hostile or volatile, mind you, and not bad. It's like… compatible with mine."
They still held hands and as one, they both squeezed, their eyes widening as they turned to look at each other.
"What's going on?" Nym asked in shock.
"I've got no idea," Harry whispered, looking around. "This room… it's not exactly how I found it, but it's pretty close."
He began walking forward to where he knew the old Black family tree was depicted on an old tapestry, and what he saw there shocked him.
"Nym," he said faintly as she came closer, and as she saw the family tapestry, her eyes bugged out.
"What the fuck!?" She whispered in shock, and Harry could feel it through this new connection they shared.
"The temporal resonance must have interacted with the sphere's magic. When it shattered—"
"It threw us back in time," she finished, her hair rapidly cycling through numerous colors as she processed their situation.
"Not just that," Harry muttered. "This connection between us… I was studying souls. I think whatever happened bound our souls together in the process."
"Bloody hell, Harry!" She whispered, aghast. "You mean if I die then you die as well?"
"I guess," Harry replied, staring at her.
Suddenly, Nym felt humor flowing through their connection and her eyes widened when Harry let out a hysterical laugh, holding onto the wall. She did not know why but she joined in as well, and in no time, both of them were laughing like psychos.
They both could feel it now. Their magic was beginning to harmonize subtly, the bond stabilizing their emotional states. They didn't even realize that they were leaning against each other as their laughter subsided, and they made no move to pull away even when they turned back to the tapestry.
"So, this isn't a hallucination or a joke," she remarked, making him shake his head negatively. "We really traveled back in time."
"Looks that way from the tapestry, at least," he muttered.
"Well, we can find out easily," Nym replied and pulled her wand out. She cast a silent Tempus, and both their eyes widened when Harry felt a tug on his magic as well.
"That didn't come directly from me," she muttered, making him nod. The time shimmered in front of them, and as they saw it, the hunch was confirmed. They had indeed traveled back in time. However, they were shocked with how far it was.
"That's not all," Harry remarked, and Nym's eyes widened when his hair transitioned into various colors, before he did the same with his eyes, and soon, he was morphing his facial features at will.
"Merlin's tits," she whispered, fascinated. "So, we're sharing powers now as well."
"Looks like it," Harry replied, before adding teasingly, "I guess I'm better at this metamorph thing than you though."
"Don't get a big head," Nym replied. Harry responded by enlarging his head slightly, making her chuckle as he reverted it to its usual shape and size.
"This is all so confusing," she remarked, her eyes raking over the magical tapestry. The main line of the Blacks was there, self-updating, but there was no trace of her mother. Hell, there was no trace of her mother's parents either.
They had traveled over sixty years back in time.
-Break-
"This is..." Nym began once they had finally come to terms with the absolute mindfuck that their new reality was, and she quickly switched to sending her thoughts through their new connection. Both were curious to see what it entailed.
It was a jumble of images and emotions that Harry somehow understood perfectly. This is impossible. Incredible. Terrifying. Fascinating.
"Welcome to my world," he muttered, gesturing at the cluttered room around them. "Though I have to admit, even by my standards, this is a bit extreme."
"A bit?"
"Alright, not just a bit," he conceded, chuckling despite the situation. "Still, we need to figure things out. Given the house hasn't thrown us out or alerted the residents about intruders…"
"Its magic recognizes us," Nym finished for him, earning a nod.
"And the tapestry didn't update with our names either," Harry continued.
"Thank Merlin for small mercies. It would've been a pain in the ass to explain how we exist."
Harry nodded absently.
"Harry," she began, making him turn to her. "Is there a way for us to go back to our time?"
Harry's lips pursed and with a sigh, he shook his head.
"Time travel is a delicate concept. We could only travel a few hours back with time turners. And we didn't use a time turner. We came here because of an accident. Also, I don't believe traveling to the future is possible. At least no way has been discovered to make it happen."
The meaning dawned on her and she sighed. A part of her knew that they wouldn't be able to return, but it was still a disappointment to hear it laid out explicitly.
Meanwhile, Harry forced himself to think like an Unspeakable rather than a confused teenager that he now found himself as. "The interaction between the temporal resonance and the Tempus Anima Sphere must have created some sort of cascade effect. The soul bond... that's probably from the sphere itself. It's designed to interact with magical cores, and when it shattered..."
"It linked us together instead of just de-aging us," Nym finished, her mind working in tandem with his through their connection. "Right to the age when our magic fully matures."
"And threw us back in time," he nodded. "It was not completed, after all. And not supposed to be used."
Nym let out a sigh as she leaned against him, and Harry's arms came to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close.
"So, to sum it up, we are both eighteen now, and we're both stuck here in this timeline, with no way to go back."
"Correct," Harry replied.
"If the Ministry somehow gets to know about us…" she trailed off, and Harry did not need her to finish that statement.
The Ministry, and that meant his department, had a strict policy against time jumpers. Even though large-scale time jumps had never happened before, it had been understood that should they find any, they were to be taken in custody for… educational purposes and neutralized thereafter.
"Well, good thing that none of us is planning to tattle," Harry replied. "No one knows who we really are, and it'd be best if we kept this charade up."
"You mean new identities to settle in."
"Among other things," Harry replied thoughtfully. "And there's one other thing…"
"What?"
"I'm not fully sure about it, but there's a chance that we have created an alternate reality," Harry replied, to her surprise. "Normally, time travel happens with time turners, and those are for a few hours at max. Since there is a way back, it is part of the same reality. We traveled decades into the past and that too because of what's essentially an anomaly. That's why I think there's a chance things might not be fully same in this timeline, and this might not be the past at all. Just past in an alternate reality."
"What does that mean for us then?"
"We're stuck here. That's definite," Harry muttered. "And if it's an alternate reality, then what we do won't have any impact on our original future. We would be able to change things without affecting that future."
"I think I get it," she replied. "It's all a bit complicated, innit?
"Yeah, but we need to act, Nym," Harry intoned softly. "The reality of our situation is in front of us. The sooner we accept that, the better off we are. If, and that's a big if, the situation somehow changes and we are able to go back to our time, then it's a relief. But even if not, we should be prepared to keep going."
"You mean creating a new life here," she said softly.
"And facing the challenges up ahead," he replied, gazing at the Black family tree. "At least it's a relief that this house's magic recognized us and didn't treat us like intruders, or we would've been toast."
Nym chuckled a bit nervously, knowing how dark and unforgiving the Black family wards were.
"It's also a good thing that we are who we are," she said, smirking at him. "Forging our new identities, getting everything done through proper channels, and everything else regarding administrative matters… leave that to me."
"Make sure you get us foreign citizenships first though," Harry replied. "Make it so we both are from another country and have immigrated here. Having a dual citizenship will come in handy."
"Got it. A small country should do. Anything else?"
"Yeah," Harry said, palming his inner wrist where a certain tattoo lay. "I don't think it'd be wise to go by our original names. Times are different, and we'll need every advantage we can get, starting with our family names."
"You might have brought me back into the family, but I don't like being associated with them more than necessary, Harry," Nym replied, looking cross.
"We can have you be a member of an offshoot family line that came from a squib," Harry suggested. "You have the blood, so proving it would be child's play, and the Black name is a powerful one."
Nym still looked unconvinced but she nodded reluctantly.
"What about you?"
Harry stared at the floor for a long moment, his fingers tracing the tattoo delicately. Finally, he looked up and said, "I can't go by Potter. I won't be able to claim the lordship, not that it belongs to me in this timeline."
Nym stared at him for a few moments and it did not take much longer for realization to dawn on her. Her eyes widened.
"You're serious?"
"I am," he replied calmly. "It's the best choice. I have the blood, and there is no one else to claim the line."
Nym stayed silent for a while, and Harry could feel her hesitation and nervousness through the bond they shared. He stepped close, holding her by the arms and made her look at him.
"We've got to do this, Nym. Like it or not, power is important for us."
Finally, Nym nodded.
"Alright, then. Time to get things in order, I guess."
Harry hummed, his eyes fixated on the date and time hovering in front of them. A conflicted look grew on his face as he took her hand in his.
"And if really can't go back, we're going to be involved in more shit than we'd like to," he remarked. "In only a few years, Grindelwald would rise to prominence and the world would be embroiled in the greatest war in history."
The thought sobered Nym up rather quickly.
TBC.
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