Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Larissa fidgeted with her wand anxiously. Despite coming from a pureblood family, she'd never been around this many influential people in all her life. Larissa saw the infamous Black family standing with its proxy families, the Lestranges and the Malfoys, toward the further end of the room they were all trapped in. She spotted her own parents talking to the Prewett couple, the young Weasley couple nervously by their side. An elderly man she recognized from her potions books, Fleamont Potter, stood next to an elderly woman who could only be his wife. Beside the Potter couple was a small group of boys and girls, children she recognized from her Hogwarts days. If she did the math right, they should be in their sixth year now.

She also spotted her mother's sister-in-law Antiope Delancy and her family of six conversing with a woman who looked like a Rosier. Larissa couldn't help but look for her own siblings, curious as to whether they too had appeared here. While searching, she noticed quite a few government officials talking amongst themselves, as well as Hogwarts staff. With all these powerful individuals around, Larissa was surprised that they were still trapped.

"Hello one and all," a soft, melodic voice proclaimed, somehow silencing the entire space with four words, "I have brought you here for a purpose."

Everyone in the room turned to find a strange, yet powerful looking woman before them. She gave off a dark, fear-inducing aura, yet it was very hard to discern her facial features. She wore a hood that had glowing blue skulls off of it, and Larissa could only hope that they weren't souls. One thing that stood out from within the hood was a pair of piercing violet eyes.  

The woman walked over to Larissa, who began to tremble nervously. She wasn't very good when it came to defensive magic. She wasn't lacking in power by any means, yet she wasn't suited for martial magic. She’d much prefer lab work. Yet it would seem that she would never get a chance to further her career as an inventor of spells and potions. To Larissa's grateful surprise, the woman gently caressed her cheek, tears spilling from violet eyes, expression so very forlorn. 

"Step away from my niece," Antiope warned harshly, brandishing her wand. The shining woman simply continued to weep silently.

"Who are you?" Larissa stutters, uncomfortable with the attention of all these people on her. She was never one for the spotlight.

"I am called Aradia," she answers, voice still melodious despite the crying, "the Great Moon Goddess, but more relevant to you, the Queen of Witches." Despite never believing such a thing to be true, the power rolling off the women convinced many of the people in the room to take a knee. If this was truly a goddess, it was better safe than sorry.

Larissa herself attempted to bow, but the goddess refused to allow her. She simply ran her fingers through Larissa dark locks, and gazed into her green eyes, seemingly looking for something

"May I ask why you brought us here? Professor Dumbledore inquired of the goddess, who simply ignored the man.

"I too am curious," Larissa stated, hoping that the favor she seemed to have garnered with the goddess would cause her to answer.

"I couldn't bear your suffering," the goddess answered, tone sad and broken, "you were my favorite mortal dear. So kind and caring despite what life threw at you. You were also infinitely creative and enterprising, reaching heights in magic and witchcraft that impressed even I. Therefore, I have decided to pluck you all from time to establish a new timeline. A timeline where you know how the future generations ties up your loose ends. One where you take that knowledge and tie them up yourselves. This is the blessing I give you Larissa Delancy Greengrass. Please do not waste it."

With those words, the woman vanished in purple energy, and the occupants in the room were left stunned. Suddenly, the very structure of the room began to change. Loved ones grabbed hold of each other, screaming as they attempted to remain stable as the room changed. Once the shaking had stopped, a muggle theater was left.

"I assume we need to sit to see this future," Auror Moody grunted, before turning to Larissa, "lass, have you ever met this goddess before?"

Larissa blushed when all the attention fell on her again, but answered, "No Auror Moody. I have never met the goddess in my life, nor am I aware of any of the achievements she claims to love me for. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a random underpaid spell creator.”

"Perhaps she chose you later in your life," Fleamont Potter's wife suggested, and despite the lithe, petite figure, her voice wasn't gentle, "she did mention the future and that she plucked us from a different timeline."

"An astute observation," the elder Lord Black said, stroking his beard, "then I guess we have no other choice. We must watch this future, lest the goddess smite us."

"Perhaps we should all introduce ourselves," Professor McGonagall suggested, "we don't know how long we'll be here for, or anything for that matter. It may reassure some of the children to at least know who the people surrounding them are."

"Brilliant idea Minerva," Professor Dumbledore praised, "I shall begin. As all of you are aware, I am Albus Dumbledore, the current Hogwarts headmaster."

"Professor Minerva McGonagall," Professor McGonagall went next, "transfiguration professor at Hogwarts."

"Professor Flitwick," the half-goblin man chirped, "charms teacher at Hogwarts."

"Horace Slughorn," Professor Slughorn introduced, "potioneer and Hogwarts professor."

"Alastor Moody," the fierce looking auror spoke roughly, eyes constantly darting around vigilantly, "head of the auror force."

"Oscar and Elena Prewett," the Prewett patriarch introduced both he and his lady, "and our children are Molly, her husband Arthur Weasley, and our twin sons Gideon and Fabian."

"Fleamont Potter," the famed potioneer said, his voice cracking in old age, "my dear wife is Euphemia and our boy is James. The other children are Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Mary McDonald, Lily Evans, and Marlene Mckinnion respectively."

"Antiope Delancy," Larissa's aunt said, "my children are Clarene, Serena, Lillian, Guenivive, Lyra, and Daniel Delancy."

"That must suck," Larissa heard the boy who must be James Potter whisper to one of his friends, "five sisters!" Larissa had to laugh. Her own siblings had told her aunt much the same thing. Yet her aunt and late uncle had been determined to get a son to pass their name on. In fact, Larissa herself had the middle name Delancy, her mother had been convinced that her maiden name would never be passed on. 

"Lord Arcturus Black," the Black family patriarch pointed one by one to each member of his extended family, "my wife Melania, our son Orion and his wife Walburga, our grandson Regulus, and my nephew Cygnus and his wife Druella. Perhaps you should go next Lord Lestrange? The next eldest member of my own family has joined yours."

"Why certainly Lord Black," Lord Lestrange grinned viciously, "what a stupendous idea. I am lord Rudolph Lestrange and beside me is my elder son Rodolphus and his wonderful wife Bellatrix. Besides them is my younger son Rabastan, as well as my wife Elladora."

"Lord Abraxas Malfoy," Lord Malfoy cut in before the Black lord could degrade him, "my wife is Lucinda, my son Lucius, and his wife Narcissa. With that, I believe we are done with introductions."

"Not so fast Lord Malfoy," Larissa's father cut in, "my family and I still remain. I myself am Edgar Greengrass, my beloved partner is Andrea, my children are Stefan, Larissa, Edmunnd, Silas, Gloria, and Leanne."

"My apologies Lord Greengrass," Lord Malfoy said amidst grit teeth, "now we have concluded."

December 8th 1979.

Words flashed across the blank wall, seemingly as if they were being projected. Yet Larissa could see no pensieve, camera, or even mirror around. She ignored all the shouts and chaos behind her as she sat in the front row, curious as to why a goddess would print those words on a wall.

Larissa Greengrass is seen pale on a bed, sweat dripping down her face. Antiope Delancy is seen squeezing her arm gently.

"How are you doing?" she asks gently, "giving birth to triplets is no easy feat."

"Excuse me what?!" Larissa's parents shout, "triplets!"

"Impressive," Elena Prewett complimented, "I gave birth to twins and it was excruciating. You must be a very strong lady."

"Better yet," Stefan, Larissa's older brother, begins, "who is the father?"

All eyes turned to Larissa, who was in a complete state of shock. She had never expected nor intended to have children or wed? What could possibly change in five years?

"Pardon," a med witch poked her head into the room, "is the mother ready to nurse and name the babies? There's only so long we can hold it off before we'll use formula."

"You can bring the smallest one first," a hoarse Larissa instructed, "Auntie, do you know if they are girls or boys?"

"Two boys and a lovely girl," Antiope stroked Larissa's hair proudly, "you did wonderfully dear."

"Why is Antiope with my daughter?" Andrea wondered, "shouldn't I be there?"

"I don't know beloved," Edgar confessed, "I'm sure these visions will explain eventually."

"We'll do it like this," the nurse patiently explained to the tired new mother, "we'll hand you a baby, you'll give the name, and we'll finish filling out the birth certificates."

"Alright, Larissa opened her arms, "I'm ready."

"Meet your middle son," the nurse placed a small, wrinkly baby into Larissa's hand, "what do you want to call him?"

"Victor for his first name," Larissa stated as she nursed her son, "and Ambrose for his middle name."

"What about his surname?" the nurse asked carefully, "you haven't given a name for the father."

"Wouldn't she have taken her husband's surname?" Leanne asked her aunt, "why are they asking?"

"Maybe she kept her last name," Antiope shrugged, "it's not common here, but definitely in France. I can tell we're in a French hospital, so maybe the nurse didn't want to assume."

"She didn't mention the father," Stefan hummed, "is it possible...?"

"Leave it blank please," Larissa instructed, a slight, desperate edge to her tone, "they'll take my own surname, Greengrass."

"Your parents aren't going to like that Rissa," Antiope warned, though she didn't pressure, "you can tell me who did this to you. Your parents may have disowned you, but this auntie isn't leaving. This is a safe place for you my darling Rissa."

Silence. Complete utter silence. Larissa couldn't believe her eyes and ears. Disowned? Her? Had she had the children illegitimately? Why would she do that? She had never wanted children, but if she ever had them, she certainly wouldn't have illegitimate ones.

"You had children out of wedlock?" Edgar's eyes locked on his daughter's in disbelief, "how could you do this to us Larissa?"

"Clearly she wasn't exactly in control of the circumstances Edgar," Antiope hissed, "I seem to be implying that your daughter may have been assaulted. Have you no respect?"

"Our daughter would never get assaulted," Andrea argued callously, "she's a pureblood girl. Unless she was sleeping around, no man could touch her."

"You and I both know how pathetic that statement was," Antiope barked, "and as future me said. If you won't be there for your daughter, then I sure as hell will."

"Maybe one day," Larissa stroked her son's hair, eyes brimming over, "for now, it's not safe."

"Then I'll be waiting with open arms until you're ready," Antiope reassures her. Soon, the first baby is fed, and the next is deposited into her arms.

"This is the firstborn," the nurse tells her, "a mostly healthy little boy. A little small, just like the other, but that's completely normal in births of more than one baby."

"This one is Damian,"  Larissa proclaimed, "Damian Ares Greengrass."

"A beautiful name Larissa," Clarene said kindly, "thank you for naming your firstborn for my father."

"You're welcome?" Larissa replied, more like questioned.

"Thank you for that," Antiope wiped a stray tear from her eye, "it would seem that my husband has found another way to live on."

"It's the least I could do to thank you," Larissa responded.

"There is no need to thank me," Antiope insisted, "I'm simply doing what family should."

The babies are swapped again and Larissa names her daughter Layla Odette. The scene ends off with Larissa sleeping in the hospital, three cribs beside her, and Antiope by her side.

Chapter Text

"Well that was useless," Walburga Black tsked, "there was no reason to watch that."

"Hush Walburga," Orion hissed at his wife, "if the goddess hears, she may smite us."

"I wonder why the goddess showed that though," Gloria Greengsass huffed, "why did she have to show such an embarrassment to our family legacy?"

"Knock it off Goria," Guenevive Delancy turned to her cousin, "you're being needlessly rude."

"My sister is a harlot in the future," Gloria shouted, "of course I'm humiliated!"

"Why you little-" Guenivive's words were cut off by a glare from her brother, who pointed at Larissa. The poor girl seemed as if she had just wanted to get this over with.

June 16th, 1980

"Bonjour Ms. Larissa" a kind looking old woman greeted Larissa, "how are the darling triplets?"

"No way," Albus Dumbledore sucked a breath in, "that's not possible."

"The triplets are doing quite well," Larissa responded in turn, "in fact, Layla rolled over for the first time this morning. It was rather exciting."

"I'm glad to hear," the woman put a wrinkly hand on Larissa's shoulder, "now, I believe my husband wanted you to assist him in the lab today. He had a rather bad bout of pneumonia, and is too weak to do many things himself."

"I'll be right on it Perenelle," Larissa tells the elderly woman, "though would you like me to prepare some tea before?"

"That would be wonderful," Perenelle sits down, and Larissa prepares some tea, before heading to the lab.

"Is that who I think it is?" Antiope and her family's jaws dropped to the ground.

"I don't understand," Larissa turns to them, "what's so surprising about all this? As far as I can tell, I got a job assisting an elderly man in a lab."

"That's not just any old woman," Albus Dumbledore, overhearing Larissa, explained, "that's Perenelle Flamel. Nicholas and Perenelle have never hired anyone to work in their labs. There must be something special about you Ms. Greengrass."

"Flamel!" Larissa's parents gasped, "as in the philosopher's stone?"

"The very same," Dumbledore stroked his beard, "I wonder what dear Nicholas was thinking. The last time he interacted with youngsters was when I sent Newton to him all those years ago."

Larissa couldn't believe her ears. She was going to work under Nicholas Flamel!

"Can you please crush the ores over there?" an old man who must be Nicholas Flamel asked as soon as she entered, "oh, and good morning."

"Good morning to you as well Nicholas," Larissa shakes her head amusedly, "I'll get right to it."

January 26th, 1980.

"That's rewinding," James Potter whispered to Sirius Black, "I wonder why it didn't just show this first."

"Maybe for drama's sake," Sirius suggested, "it could make things more entertaining for us."

"Speaking of," Remus Lupin asked, "can any of you guys tell why we're here? I'm pretty sure I've never met Larissa Greengrass in my life."

"I've seen her at a few balls," Sirius said after a few seconds of thought, "but otherwise no."

"What if we're all here because we're going to have a role in the war?" James suggested, not realizing that he had caught the room's attention.

"And why would you think that Mr. Potter?" Professor Dumbledore asked, not unkindly.

"Well," James began, not the type to be nervous in front of crowds, "I know my Mum and Dad are involved in the war, as well as all the aurors here. I know that you and the teachers are also involved, something about a secret order that we students aren't supposed to know about, but you are terrible at hiding."

"They're not bad at hiding James," Remus Lupin cut in, "you and Sirius are just far too clever. Far more than they have begun to realize."

"Whatever," James brushed his friend off, not noticing the curious looks the adults were shooting each other, "from Sirius I know that the Black family supports Voldemort, whether they actually serve him or not is the question. A question of evidence, not of truth to be honest. And Sirius has told me more than once that his cousin Bellatrix is a fanatical supporter of Voldemort, so that adds the Lestranges to the picture."

"Do you not know how to shut your mouth boy?" Orion barked at the son he'd disowned, "that is no one else's business but ours."

"You don't get to control me," Sirius shouted back, "you never have and you never will."

"Anyways," James continued, but not before glaring at Orion and Walburga, "Sirius and I already know we want to fight, so realistically, almost every person in this room has some involvement in this war. Also, the goddess, Aradia I think she was called, said that Larissa was going to suffer a lot. War inevitably brings suffering."

"Good thinking James," Euphemia praised her son, ruffling his hair, "you're not wrong. In fact, you may even be on the right track."

"You want to get a job?" Antiope asks, surprised, "you gave birth to triplets only a month ago!"

"I can't sit around all day Auntie," Larissa explains to her aunt, "I'm twenty five. If I don't get started on a career, it'll be much harder later. I have three children to support. I can't afford to sit around."

"I've told you that I'll support you more than once," Antiope insists, "you don't need to support yourself."

"I'm an adult Auntie," Larissa presses, "I can't rely on my aunt for the rest of my life. You have six children to support. I appreciate that you're helping me, and I won't turn down assistance with raising the triplets. However, I need to be able to be financially independent."

"If you insist," the older woman sighed, "now, as it happens, I may have an idea for you. Do you know who Nicholas Flamel is?"

"Of course I do!" Larissa's eyes shine at the mention of the man, "he's only one of the most famous alchemists ever. As well as the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Well," Antiope continues, "as you know, he has used the Philosopher's Stone to remain alive for over 500 years. Due to that, his body has aged and become weak. He is currently searching for a young man or woman with a knowledge of potions, alchemy, and runes to become an apprentice. Although he has described this apprentice to be more like a lab hand than a disciple."

"Nicholas is taking on a protege!" Dumbledore was shocked. In all his years of knowing the man, he had never once expressed an interest in such a thing.

"Where do I apply?" Larissa asks her aunt eagerly. The woman hands her the application form. There were the typical things she needed to fill out, like education, name, age, etc. There were also a few difficult questions, ones that Larissa answered with ease, being an incredibly well-read and intelligent individual. The hardest part of the application was the last question: Why do you want this job?

Larissa stopped for a moment, pen dropping. Why did she want this job so badly? She thought back on her very first alchemic experiment. She'd been only ten at the time, yet so curious as to how all the potions her mother would brew worked. She had read all about potions and alchemy in the library, so she decided to try one of the experiments out. It was a simple one, changing red to blue, but it had made her so very happy.

She remembers how her siblings used to tease her, telling her that she was always too curious for her own good. That it made her boring. She couldn't help that she enjoyed to read and experiment more than riding brooms. Yet her siblings would ruffle her hair and drag her out to play, her books tumbling to the ground. She teared up at the reminder of the old times. Her family has disowned her, and those loving games and smiles from her siblings have turned to insults and abandonment. Now all she has left of her childhood are her books.

Sirius felt for the girl, he really did. He knew how hard being disowned was, having been recently disowned himself. He was thankful for the support of the Potters, without them, who knows where he'd be right now? Yet their situations were so different. Larissa Greengrass had loved her family; she hadn't hated them with the burning fire that Sirius himself hated his own with. Sirius chose to leave himself, and Larissa had been ousted.

Now she has three children. Three weak existences that completely depended on her. She needed to use all that she had to get that for them. Yet selfishly, she still burned with the desire to discover, to find the secrets of the forces that be. However, this was an opportunity to learn and grow. She didn't need the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone, immortality was nothing to her at the moment. She didn't feel the need to live on endlessly as some others did. The sun rises and the sun sets. Human life was very much the same way. All she could do was try and make the best of her shot in the world.

Larissa picked up her pen once again, and the words just flew out. She finished filling out the form, and whistled for her owl, Medea. She tied the application to the bird's foot, and said, "Fly this to the Gazette. They're in charge of submitting the applications to the Flamels."

January 29th, 1980.

Larissa Greengrass is seen holding two children as she walks, rocking them to sleep. Their big brother is already out cold in his cot.

"An owl came for you," Daniel Delancy walked into the room, "oh, let me take Victor." Daniel immediately took the young boy in his arms, cooing as he rocked him gently.

"A man that can deal with children," Marlene Mckinnion fanned herself, "if only all men could be like that."

"I wonder who sent me an owl?" Larissa wondered aloud, before opening the letter. As she read, her eyes widened considerably, and she had to sit down.

"Larissa!" Daniel called, rushing to check if his cousin was okay.

"I got accepted," Larissa spoke softly, barely believing what she was saying, "the Flamels want to meet me in person to discuss the terms of the agreement, but they said they wanted to hire me. Can you believe this Daniel?"

"I'm happy for you Larissa," Daniel beamed at her, "although I've been meaning to ask, is it true what Mum said? Are you really moving out?"

"Yes," Larissa answered, carefully placing Layla in her cot, "I know your mother won't tell me this, but she wants to travel. She's a widow with now all fully adult children, minus you of course. And you'll be an adult in a few months anyways. While I'm in her house, she feels obligated to dedicate all her time to helping me. If I move out, she'll still help, but she'll also go out and do things for herself. Besides, everyone has to move out eventually."

"You're so thoughtful," Antiope shook her head, "I wish you'd let future me help you more."

"Like future me said," Larissa smiled to her aunt, "we all have to move out eventually."

January 31st, 1980.

Larissa knocked gently on the door. She held the letter the Flamels had sent her in her hands, making sure she had the right address. The house was old, unsurprising due to the age of the owner. She heard that he had lived in the city during the 20s and 30s, but had moved out to an old property in the suburbs. The house had beautiful gardens, with some of the ivy even crawling up the house.

"You must be Larissa Greengrass," Perenelle Flamel answers the door, withered hand on the door knob, "please come in. I'm Perenelle Flamel, and allow me to introduce myself to my husband Nicholas."

The two walked into the foyer, and Perenelle led Larissa to a laboratory near the end of the large cottage. The cottage had four bedrooms, and it seemed that they had a house elf as well. There were three labs, which surprised Larissa. After thinking critically, Larissa realized that since Nicholas Flamel worked in many fields, he may need to separate certain things from each other. There were many magics that simply didn't mix, and when they did, you would not want to be caught in the middle of the resulting explosion.

"Is this the apprentice?" Nicholas Flamel asked as Perenelle led Larissa inside.

"Yes," Perenelle answered, voice surprisingly strong and collected for a woman of her immense age, "she's here to discuss the details."

"I can't believe that she managed to work under Nicholas Flamel," Rodolphus Lestrange seethed. He considered himself an expert alchemist, and was rather incensed that a mere twenty four year old, disowned girl was getting the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Keep an eye on her," Rudolph instructed his family, "we know there's something special about her. I want us to find out first. We may be able to sway her to our side. After all, none of this has happened yet. We can use her for ourselves. I'm certain that Arcturus has already tried to think of ways to get the girl."

"We will keep our eyes peeled," Rabastan promises his father, "nothing will get past us."

"Very well," Nicholas turned to her, "I'll offer 5 bezants an hour. Hours are from 7:00 to 5:00 Sunday through Friday. You'll be helping me with basic ingredient prep, upkeep of the lab, research, and experiments. In addition, I will instruct you for an hour and a half of your paid time."

"That's an incredible offer," Lillian gasped, "the Flamels are very generous."

"I mean they are well known for that," Serena shrugged, "I'm not surprised."

"That's more than enough," Larissa protested, "in fact, it is far too good. How could you offer such a thing?"

"We're rather old," Perenelle explains, "we can offer an amount that could help you live comfortably. We're looking for intelligent, youthful company more than assistance. Nicholas and I need some more spirit in our lives, and we thought that you were lively enough for our tastes. Please don't feel bad about the money. We just want to make sure that you can live comfortably."

"This is very kind of you," Larissa says, "when should I start?"

"Tomorrow," Nicholas says, "for now, we'll discuss alchemy. I want to see how you hold up in conversation." The three begin a conversation about all sorts of magic, and the scene ends with a montage of Larissa learning under the Flamels, her own magical expertise growing exponentially.

Chapter Text

"You should feel very proud," Professor Dumbledore smiled at Larissa, "I've known Nicholas for many years. For him to have that much trust in you means you truly have skill."

Albus himself couldn't believe he had overlooked an obvious gem. Armed with this knowledge of the future, he can see events from the past with further clarity. Larissa Greengrass had graduated with all Os and had taken almost all the electives they offered. She was so quiet that the teachers never really had much to say about her. He should have known. It's always the quiet ones.

Some people obviously showed their talent. He himself was a good example. He was lauded as a prodigy for the things he had shown people. James Potter and Sirius Black were prime examples of their generation. The two boys were overwhelmingly powerful, talented, and capable wizards, and ones who put absolutely zero effort. Bellatrix Lestrange was another. He had no proof to show the ministry to issue a warrant, but he had seen her on the battlefield. She was an outrageously powerful witch, as well as incredibly sadistic. She had no shame back in her Hogwarts days, flaunting her prowess at every chance she got.

If Albus had to compare Larissa Greengrass on screen to anyone, it'd be Newt Scamander. He remembers the days where it was he alone who saw any talent in the boy. He had ensured that young Newt hadn't had his wand snapped after his expulsion, and he was glad he did so. The boy grew to be one of the most important figures in modern history. Larissa Greengrass seemed to be the same. Both were incredibly quiet, only performing as they must to the public. Yet both were incredibly talented when one looked just a bit closer. Albus would never make the mistake he made, underestimating Larissa Greengrass, ever again.

"Thank you Professor Dumbledore," Larissa blushed at the praise of a man who was seen as the next coming of Merlin. What had she possibly done to deserve this?

November 2nd, 1981.

"Have you heard the news?" Antiope barged into her small home.

"I wonder what startled Antiope so badly," Andrea Greengrass whispered to her husband, "she's never like that."

"I haven't Auntie," Larissa wiped her hands on her apron, "please calm down though. You're going to wake the children. It took a rather long time to get them settled, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't wake them."

"That Dark Lord in England," Antiope breathed, "the one that everyone was terrified of. Do you remember him?"

"Of course I do," Larissa shudders, "what about him?"

"They say he's been defeated," Antiope smiles broadly, "and get this. They say he was defeated by a baby."

"WHAT?!" shouts filled the room as the news broke.

"That's not possible!" Bellatrix shouted, "I've witnessed the Dark Lord's power for myself. He would never be defeated, let alone by a child!"

"Is it really possible?" Gideon Prewett whispered to his brother, "have our fallen brothers been avenged?"

"As much as I'd like to disagree," Dumbledore stroked his beard, "I better than anybody know how far the man who calls himself Voldemort has fallen. There's no way he's truly been defeated."

"I don't think the goddess would lie to us," Larissa hesitantly spoke up, "and Antiope seems to be repeating a rumor. Perhaps it would be better to see if the visions will provide us with more details, rather than participating in useless arguing and shouting."

"Girl isn't wrong," Moody huffed, "we're here to get information, not to sit around and argue amongst ourselves. Let's see what comes next."

"That can't be true," a wide-eyed Larissa turned to her aunt, "his followers themselves were almost unmatchable. How can a mere baby have defeated him?"

"It gets better," Antiope waves an article in Larissa's face, "they say the child survived the killing curse, something the British Ministry has proven to be true. The entire story has been proven by members of the ICW."

"No way," people in the room began to feel two things. Relief and Anger.

"How is that possible?" Larissa mumbled to herself, "there's no way to deflect that curse."

"I wonder who's child could possibly do such a thing?" Remus Lupin wondered aloud, "it seems surreal."

"I can't believe this," Larissa's hand rests on her chest, "who was the child?"

"A boy called Harry Potter," Antiope answers, "son of Lily and James Potter. The two were brave. They died protecting their boy."

All eyes turned to James Potter, who wore a shocked look on his face. It's not every day you find out how you die.

"Not our James!" Euphemia gasped, hand of her mouth as tears flowed down her face, "our baby boy."

"James," Sirius Black grasped for his friend's hand, desperately clinging to him. James was his entire life. What would he do without him?

"Calm yourself Sirius," James clutched the older boy's shoulders, "breathe with me. I'm right here. You need to calm down. It's going to be alright. You'll survive. You're strong like that."

"How can he comfort someone else at a time like this?" Oscar Prewett marveled, "he just found out he and his wife are going to die, yet he prioritizes his friend? What a boy you've raised Fleamont."

"I can't believe Potter is going to die like that," Marlene whispers to Lily, "is it possible that the Lily mentioned is you? Potter's been enamored with you for years."

"I can't say," Lily whispers back, "normally I'd say absolutely not, but this is the future we're talking about. Anything's possible."

"God bless their souls," Larissa shook her head, "they were good kids. I remember them from school. The Potter boy was certainly mischievous though. I always thought he was absolutely brilliant though. Him and the Black boy. They were far more clever than I think most people realized. In the four years we were in school together, they surpassed everyone other than the staff. People often thought they were rather dense, but those boys were sharp. I hope the Potter boy's soul rests in peace."

"Indeed," Antiope sighed, "are you ready to go back to England though? The war's over."

"I'll stay here longer," Larissa informed her aunt, "I've had it much better here than back in England."

"If you say so," Antiope shrugs, "we're happy to have you here."

December 8th, 1984.

"Happy birthday!" Larissa scooped a little girl up in her arms, "you're five now Layla."

"I'm five," Layla giggled, holding up five fingers. She'd certainly grown over time. She was quite tall for her age, which was quite obvious when she stood next to her brothers. Curly strawberry blonde locks tumbled down her head, and her jade green eyes shone when she smiled.

Her oldest brother Damian was very much the same. He had shining green eyes and strawberry blonde curls, looking very much like his younger sister. He wore glasses, despite only being five years old. 

Victor on the other hand was dark. He was more tan than his siblings, and his hair color was identical to his mother's. Instead of shining jade green eyes like his siblings, Victor had dark, storming sea green eyes that gave him an unsettling glare.

"They're so cute," Lyra Delancy cooed at the screen, "and look so much like Rissa."

Larissa couldn't help but stare at the children. These three little things came from her. The adorable and beautiful creatures were her own flesh and blood. She could already feel her instincts calling for them, to embrace them. Is this the power of a mother’s love?

"Are we going to see Granny?" Victor asked cutely, his stormy eyes connecting with his mother's.

"Of course we are," Larissa reassured him, "Granny and Grandpa have been talking about your birthday for weeks. I'm sure they've made something very nice for you three to share. I hope you all remember your manners. Don't forget to speak loudly. Granny and Grandpa have a hard time hearing."

"Yes Maman," the three chanted, and grasped their mothers hands as they walked out the door. Larissa walked along with her children for a few blocks, before reaching a small store. They nodded at the woman in the front, and Larissa slipped some coins into a jar. 

"Alright," Larissa instructed the children, "you remember the rules of flooing."

"Talk clearly and stay still," the children recited. Layla eagerly took her amount of powder, and in a flash of green fire, disappeared. Her siblings followed suit, and their mother headed out right after.

"You're doing great Ms. Greengrass," Professor McGonagall complimented her former student, "they seemed to be very well mannered children."

"Thank you Professor," Larissa flushed at the attention. It had only been an hour and she'd been complimented more times than she could keep track of.

"Good morning Larissa," Perenelle greeted, "I've set the children up in their playroom. I thought we'd play some birthday games. while you and Nicholas work."

"That was very kind of you," Larissa smiled, "I'm sure they'll enjoy it."

"Granny!" Damian hugs Perenelle's knees when she enters the playroom, "we made a tower!"

"That's wonderful," Perenelle smiles at the young boy, "how has school been Damian?"

"It's so boring," Damian whines, "the other kids are so stupid. There's nothing interesting to do there, right LayLay?"

"Yeah," Layla burst in, "Maman already taught us how to multiply. Why are they trying to get us to do baby stuff?"

"The pains of raising genius children," Euphemia shook her head sadly. The pain of the news that her only child would die still hung over her. Why her James out of everyone?

"Oh my," Perenelle laughs, "it would seem that teaching them before school wasn't too helpful. I'll tell your maman all about this."

Meanwhile...

"You've made excellent progress Larissa," Nicholas says, "we'll take a break now. We have a birthday party to attend after all."

"Alright," Larissa nodded, and waved her hand. At her wave, the room immediately tidied up, "Let's get going."

"Wandless magic," wide eyes find the object of their wonder, "but how?"

Sharp eyes eyed Larissa, who herself was astonished at her own abilities. "She's better than I thought she'd be," Arcturus Black hums under his breath, "I wonder how this will affect the future."

"You shouldn't do that," Nicholas warned, "you don't have enough stamina and energy to maintain that."

"Our studies have proven the magical core to be like a muscle," Larissa argued, "I have a rather large core, yet no strength in it. Only by using it can I build the power of my muscles."

"You're going to work yourself to the bone," the man shook his head, "you've already mastered more than most people in the ministry ever do in their entire lifetime. You know more spells than the greatest auror on the continent. why do you still feel the need to push for more?"

"Being able to perform in a controlled setting isn't the ideal Nicholas," Larissa passionately elaborated, "I can, what, maybe cast ten spells before tiring. Your basic auror can do, at minimum, triple that. If I get into a fight, I'm basically dead unless I win in three or four blows."

"Keep note of that," Rudolph instructed his family, "she has stamina issues."

"That's because you don't take things simply," Nicholas counters, "if you'd use average, basic spells, I'm sure you'd be fine. "

"You're right," Larissa admits, "but it's in my nature to strive to greater heights. I wouldn't have gotten here if I didn't have that about me."

"Grandpa!" Victor runs out when he spots the two, "we've been waiting."

Larissa opens her arms for her little boy to run into, and scoops him up so he could be at eye level with his grandfather figure.

"Happy birthday," Nicholas awkwardly patted the boy's head, "you're looking well."

"You too Grandpa," Victor said cheerily, "you must have blown something up to be this happy."

"Is that really what makes Nicholas Flamel happy?" Filius Flitwick asked Albus Dumbledore.

"Strangely enough yes," Albus shook his head fondly, "says it makes him feel young again."

"No," Nicholas laughs, "it's seeing you so full of life."

June 8th, 1991.

"An owl has just arrived Maman," a beautiful, 11 year old Layla Greengrass skipped into her mother's lab, "it has our acceptance letters."

"That's wonderful my love," Larissa rose to kiss her daughter's brow, "I'm so proud of you three. We'll set off to make your wands immediately."

"She can make wands?" Moody questioned, "that's suspicious. Keeping a wand under the table isn't smart."

"It's in France, Moody," Fabian Prewett rolled his eyes, "what does it matter to you? Besides, who says they won't register their wands? Stop being so paranoid."

"It's not paranoia," Moody argued, "she's clearly a talented witch. Being unable to trace her wand isn't a good thing."

"It's already been established she can use wandless magic," Sirius interrupted loudly, "if she wanted to do something off the map, she wouldn't need a wand to do it."

The two aurors were shocked at the boy's critical thinking, and his gall in interrupting two aurors. What a kid he was.

"Victor! Damian!" Layla called loudly, "we're going to make our wands."

"Coming!" the two boys shouted as they raced down the stairs.

"We shan't tarry," Larissa instructed, "we have a lot to do. I've already chosen woods for all of you based off of research I've gathered from many wandmakers. I've chosen Birch for you Damian. It represents rebirth and purity, as well as wisdom. I have paired it with a phoenix feather. Layla, yours will be made of Fir. Fir is for people who are steadfast, honest, and unafraid to challenge the current. I paired it with a dragon heartstring of an Antipodean Opaleye. For you Victor, I have chosen Red Oak, which represents people of fiery nature, passion, and creativity. I've paired it with dragon heartstring of a Ukrainian Ironbelly

"How sweet," Euphemia Potter commented, "she's making their wands with them based on their best traits. What an excellent mother."

"What now Maman?" Damian asked, "we have wood and we have a core. What do we need to do next?"

"First we hand carve them into the shape that you wish," Larissa explains as she begins to assist Victor with carving his, "copy me."

The three children begin to carve out their wands, their mother assisting when she thought it was necessary. At last, they had three carved wands.

"Next we need to insert the core," Larissa took a thin tool out of her apron pocket. She took the gooey heartstrings and began to roll them into very thin lines. She then placed it in a squeezer of sorts. She took her thin tool, and painstakingly carved a small enough hole to fit the exit of the squeezer. She then allowed both Victor and Layla to squeeze the core into their wands, only while she was directing the flow.

"Fascinating," Lucius Malfoy watched, "I've never seen a wand made before."

"It is rather neat," Narcissa allowed a slight compliment about the blood traitor harlot to escape her lips. Unfortunately, blood traitors still had their pureblood education. It was the only reason they could make anything of their lives after their disgusting betrayals.

"What about mine?" Damian asked as his mother assisted his siblings, "I have a feather."

"We apply some of this magical solution," Larissa helped Damian rub the solution on his feather, "and it allows for the feather to become much thinner. Now I'll make a hole, and we'll insert the feather in it."

"How does this make a wand?" Layla asked, "No alchemical formula I know should cause a piece of a magical creature and wood to become a conduit for magic to pass through it."

"I'm sort of curious myself," Peter Pettigrew meekly said, "I've never really thought about it before."

"Good call love," Larissa praised her daughter, "can you think of something that can elevate the status of these materials?"

"Potions," Layla responded after a moment, "we pour a potion on it. Or put it in a cauldron. Probably has doxy eggs or Lady's mantle in it. Both could be good in creating a conduit."

"Exceptional work," Larissa clapped, "it does indeed have lady's Mantle in it. I'll pour the potion on your wands, and we'll see the results tomorrow. We may need to do it again. Wand crafting isn't easy to do. I did most of the hard work, but I felt that you deserved to have a role in the creation of the one item that should last your whole life."

"What a beautiful sentiment," Antiope grinned, "I always knew Rissa would be a good mother. She was simply too good hearted not to be.

"Now," Larissa said, "it's time to go shopping for school supplies."

Chapter Text

Larissa was seen flying on broomsticks with her children, eventually reaching Place Cachée, the French magical shopping district.

"Now be very careful," Larissa instructed, handing each a significant amount of gold, "go and buy what you need. We'll meet by Confiserie Enchantée de K. Rammelle, before we all head to Maison Capenoir."

"What's Confiserie Enchantée de K. Rammelle and Maison Capenoir?" James Potter asked, turning to the only confirmed French people in the room.

"Confiserie Enchantée de K. Rammelle is a confectionary shop," Lillian Delancy explained, "and Maison Capenoir is a clothing store."

"Thank you," James said appreciatively, "are the pastries good there?" 

"Exquisite," Lillian replied, "it wouldn't be France without its pastries."

"Of course Maman," Layla grinned, "we'll be very careful. Is Auntie Lillian bringing Isidore along?"

"I don't believe so," Larissa frowned, eyebrows squeezing together as she thought, "although Freya is working at Café Abringer. If you'd like to see her, you're welcome to stop by."

"Alright," Layla nodded, "bye Maman." Layla ran off, but not before kissing her mother's cheek respectfully."

"Farewell Maman," Victor followed suit, kissing his mother's cheek, "I'll make sure Layla doesn't cause too much trouble."

"That would be much appreciated," Larissa laughs nervously, "your sister is simply a magnet for trouble."

"Don't worry Maman," Damian reassured his mother, "we got her. That's our job as siblings isn't it?"

"My sweet, sweet boys," Larissa gathered her sons up in her arms, smothering them with kisses, "what on Earth have I done to deserve boys like you?"

"Raise us well," Damian said, kissing his mother on the cheek, "while this is lovely and all, if Vic and I don't hurry, we're going to lose Layla. We don't want to be the ones responsible for setting her loose on Place Cachée."

"You make a fair argument," Larissa smiles, "run off boys."

The two boys run off, leaving their mother to watch them fondly from a distance.

"That was so cute," Antiope gushed, "you're a great mother Rissa."

"I have to agree," Molly Weasley hesitantly spoke, not having said much this whole time, "I hope I can be the same for my children."

"You're going to do great," Arthur grasped Molly's hands, "I just know it."

"Oi! Stop flirting with our sister," Gideon barked at Arthur, "it's gross."

"Shut it!" Molly glared at her brother, causing him to gulp and hide behind their parents, who simply laughed.

"Slow down Lay!" Victor called out to his sister, "I thought we were going to go together."

"Sorry Vic," Layla slowed down a smidge, "I'm just really excited to buy new books. Maman even said I can annotate them."

"I will never understand how you can love reading," Victor shook his head, "it's so boring."

"Please don't say that," Damian begged, "you know that sets her off. Why don't we go get the books quickly so we can go see Freya?"

"Good idea," Layla perked up immediately, "let's go."

"It seems that they get along well," Larissa mumbled to herself, "Thank Merlin."

"Bonjour Greengrasses," the owner of the bookstore greeted as they entered.

"Bonjour Madame Zulenka," the three responded politely.

"You must be here to pick up the Beauxbatons course books," Madam Zulenka said, "they're divided by year in the textbook section."

"Thank you," Damian smiled, "we'll be getting three of those, plus whatever Layla decides to get."

"Have fun," Madam Zulenka waved them off, "what sweet kids."

"Found anything interesting?" Damian asked his sister, while Victor went to grab their textbooks.

"I found one about beauty and household charms," Layla responded, "and a training book for aurors, duelers, and hitwizards."

"Neat," Damian said, "let's go pay. The sooner we get the books, the sooner we can go see Freya."

"I wonder who this Freya is," Andrea whispered to Edgar, "the bastard children seem to like her a lot."

"It doesn't matter," Edgar scoffed, "anyone who associates with them must be trash. After all, they would be associating with a harlot and her bastards."

Silas Greengrass bit his tongue at what he heard his father and mother say. Silas was the baby of the family, and looked up to Larissa a lot. Why were the people who had only an hour ago loved Larissa dearly saying such horrible things about her?

"Alright," Layla begrudgingly left the shelves, "let's go pay." The three pay for their books, exit the store, and head to a place with a large sign that reads Café Abringer.

"Damian, Layla, Victor!" a blonde girl shouted as she spotted them, "hey Lauren, come meet my cousins!

"So this Freya is family," Andrea mumbled to herself, "I wonder who's child she would be."

"Frey!" Layla rushed over to the older girl, who twirled her into a hug instantly. The boys received kisses on the cheeks, and the three siblings began to converse with their cousin.

"So you three are headed to Beauxbatons, eh?" Freya teased, "you three are growing faster than any of us can keep up with."

"You're only a year older than us," Victor blushingly protested, "soon we'll be taller than you."

"If she's only a year older," Lily Evans began tentatively, "why is she working? She would have to, at maximum, be thirteen years old."

"I don't know Ms. Evans," Clarene Delancy said, eyes narrowed, "that isn't really normal."

"Perhaps we'll see later," Lyra suggested, and her sister finally realized her eye.

"So these are Mr. Borier's triplet niece and nephews," the girl, Lauren as Freya had called her, introduced herself, "nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well," Damian responded, "Frey, can we get some macarons to go? We're meeting Maman for ice cream as soon as we finish our school shopping."

"No problem," Freya went to place the order, "how many?"

"Ten," Damian answered, pulling golden bezants from his pouch, "how much do we owe you?"

"Nothing," a deep voice answered, "my nephews and niece will not pay in my cafe."

"Uncle Austin!" Victor cheered, and went to hug his uncle, "how's Isaac doing?"

"Austin Borier," Antiope smirked, "so he's the Mr. Borier in question. I have a feeling I know who Freya is now."

"Isaac's doing much better," Austin replied, "in fact, he was able to take three steps out of bed."

"Thank Merlin," Layla breathed, "we're all worried for him. Thestrals’ Curse is really dangerous"

"No need to worry," Austin reassured her, "we have Larissa Greengrass on the case. She's made more progress in six months than the whole wizarding community has in eight years."

"That's extremely impressive," Moody admitted, "that disease has been plaguing us for over three centuries. Barely any progress has been made."

"Maman's pretty great," Damian agreed, "how's Auntie Clarene?"

"She's doing quite well," Austin answered as he prepared the macarons, "though she did say she wishes your mother would come by more often. Let her know, will you?"

"I marry Austin," Clarene states calmly, despite her cheeks reddening, "and have at least two children."

"Seems so Clarene," Guenevive smiled at her sister, "I'm glad you won over the guy of your dreams."

"We will," Victor promises as they begin to leave, "bye Freya, bye Uncle Austin!"

The trio walk around the market for a while longer, picking up the things that they would need for their first school year. They eventually met their mother for ice cream, and proceeded to get their uniforms made. Their last stop on the agenda was to get them each a pet.

"Are you sure that you each want a pet?" Larissa warned as they stepped on the threshold of the menagerie, "it's a lot of responsibility and effort. You may want to rethink this."

"We know Maman," Layla said assuredly, "we still want a pet."

"Well then," Larissa opened the door and ushered them in, "remember, stick to birds, kneazles, and cats. That's all you're allowed to bring in anyways." 

"Yes Maman," the three chanted in sync, and ran off.

"I wonder when something useful is going to show up," Narcissa Malfoy hissed to her husband, "I can't believe a goddess trapped us here to watch a whore and her bastards."

"I agree," Lucius scoffed, "I have better things to do. The Dark Lord personally assigned me a mission today, yet I'm sitting here instead. What an absolute waste of time."

"Excuse me Madam," a shy girl about fifteen approached Larissa, "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Larissa turned to the girl. She was certainly a good looking girl, with long red hair flowing down her back in a ponytail, shining caramel eyes, and freckles peppering her face. 

"Is it true that you're writing a book on alchemy?" the girl asked with stars in her eyes, "I want to know if I should save up to buy it or not."

"I am indeed," Larissa answers, before asking, "what's your name?"

"Diane Serline," the girl stuck out her hand, "it's an honor to meet you Madam Greengrass."

"The same to you," Larissa smiled, "I'll tell you what. Send me an owl once the book comes out, and I'll send you a copy for free. On condition, however, that you look out for my triplets in school. I've never been to Beauxbatons, so I'm rather nervous about sending them out."

"Of course," the girl's eyes shone brightly, "you have my word."

"She's cute," Euphemia smiled, "I wish I had someone to have looked out for James when he first started Hogwarts. I was so worried back then."

"Thank you," Larissa sighed in relief, before she heard the screams of her children from the other side of the store. She sighed, before telling the girl, "It would seem that I must go take care of that. Have a lovely rest of your summer."

Larissa immediately rushed to where she heard her children arguing with the poor soul who tried to pick an argument with her feisty triplets."

"What seems to be the matter?" Larissa inquired as she arrived at the group.

"They're trying to open the Eagle's cage!" an anxious employee screeched at her, "the thing's going to scratch them."

"Nonsense," Layla rolled her eyes, and flicked her wrist, unlocking the cage, "she's not a thing. She's a glorious bird of prey, and she is the pet I have chosen. Maman, I think I'm going to call her Asteria."

"The child can use wandless magic!" Edgar's eyes widened, "she may be useful, despite her heritage. Perhaps we could take her in as a ward. She could bring us prestige."

"My child is not a utensil to be used and discarded," Larissa's swift, cool response surprised her family. She had never once spoken harshly to any of them before. Perhaps she had already moved past them, focusing her care to the children that she'd have in the future.

"That's not the way to speak to your father," Andrea rebuked harshly. The nerve of that wench!

"The people here are not father and daughter," Larissa's quiet rebuttal was heard, "simply two strangers. Was it not you who disowned me?" Andrea had no response.

"As you wish," Larissa sighed, sensing this was something she wouldn't win, "apologize to the poor worker though. You scared the life out of her."

"Sorry," Layla begrudgingly apologized, much to the relief of her mother.

"You're going to have a punishment when we get home," Larissa informed her daughter as they paid for Layla's eagle, Asteria, Damian's crow, Finley, and Victor's screech owl, Charon.

"Yes Maman," Layla hung her head, and walked calmly with her siblings and mother to the exit. The four hitched their brooms and flew off into the night.

Chapter Text

"Study well," Larissa kisses the foreheads of her children, "and write often. I love you."

"We love you too Maman," the three chorus back, before turning to the castle in front of them. The Palace of Beauxbatons was an overwhelmingly beautiful sight. They had already seen the waterfalls as they had ridden their brooms up, but even that couldn't compare to the beauty of the castle itself, which was partially carved into the mountain.

"Is that Beauxbatons?" people from the British wizarding community gasped. The wizarding schools were very protective, so the location of their schools were kept under extreme lock and key. Many people would only see one school in an entire lifespan. So it wasn't strange for the British witches and wizards to be shocked at the beauty of Beauxbatons.

"That's our school," the Delancy family boasted, reveling in the shocked expressions on the British witches and wizards' faces.

"It's as beautiful as Grandpa said," Layla said as they walked into the entrance. The first years would be dropped off by their parents, and their luggage would be given to the house elves and nymphs. School would be beginning a day earlier for first years, allowing them an extra day to familiarize themselves with the locations of their dorms, their various classrooms, as well as the offices of their teachers.

"Indeed," Victor nodded, clutching his sister and brother's hands, "let's do this."

The two squeezed the hand in Victor's, and walked inside the doors.

The three walked through the corridors for a while, drinking in all the exquisite sights. They saw beautiful paintings on the walls, as well as beautifully embroidered curtains hanging by the windows. They walked a little further, following a golden light that swirled in the air as it led them to their destination.

"How nostalgic," Antiope sighed fondly, "I remember the day I first stepped through those doors."

"It leaves everyone speechless, doesn't it Maman?" Daniel comments to his mother.

"Indeed it does," Antiope laughs.

The dining hall, their final destination, was stunning. Ice sculptures of all shapes and sizes surrounded the room, diamond-clad silver chandeliers glimmered from the ceiling, and the tables had an elaborate set of dishes spread out across them.

"I can't believe we're going to school here," Damian whispered, "it seems inhumanely beautiful."

"I don't know about that," Victor pointed out, "some of Maman and Grandpa's inventions and spells can produce things even more beautiful. Is something of this scale really that shocking?"

"You may have a slight point," Damian agrees with his younger brother, "remember when she produced an entire ice palace for our ninth birthday? Can this really compare?"

"Never have I seen a reaction like this before," Lyra chuckles, "I guess our Rissa is too good. Her kids can't even understand how complicated and immense the sight they are seeing is because of her exceptional abilities."

"Don't diminish the power it took to create this," Layla says, "the magic behind this is extremely incredible, once in a decade in fact. We've been spoiled, having Maman and Grandpa as people in our lives. Most people don't see magic like this in an entire lifetime. Their only experiences are at school, the ministry, or other famous landmarks."

"You're not wrong," Victor shrugs, "doesn't mean I have to be shocked. It's very beautiful, no denying that, but there's certainly more beautiful things and places out there."

"Attention," a woman's voice calls, catching the triplets' attention, "please gather here first years."

"We best listen," Damian said, dragging his siblings towards the woman. The woman was tall, with dark hair and eyes. She was dressed in purples, blacks, and whites, and had two keys hanging out of the bun she had tied her hair in.

"Welcome to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic," the woman greeted politely, "My name is Elise Ballard, although you will all call me Madam Ballard. I teach the charms and enchantment course for first through fourth years. The fifth years and above are currently taught by Monsieur Dupont."

"Isn't that Prime Minister Ballard's daughter?" Lillian asked her mother, "I believe she was two years above me in school."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Antiope shrugged, "how would I know?"

"Good point," Lillian blushed sheepishly, "I didn't think of that."

"In total," Madam Ballard continued, "this year's first year grade contains seventy five students. We have divided you into classes of five. I will read the roll and tell each of you which class you are in. Afterwards, I expect you all to line up accordingly. A teacher will come and take you on the tour immediately after taking the roll."

"Do you think we'll be in the same class?" Layla nervously asked her brothers, "We've never been separated before."

"I don't think so," Damian said sadly, "I think schools like splitting twins up, so I'd assume it's the same with triplets. No matter though. Maybe it'll be for the best."

"Also," Victor points out, "even if we're in different classes, I'm sure there'll be plenty of time to hang out with each other outside of class."

"Damian Greengrass," Madam Ballard called, "class 1B."

"This is it," Damian squeezed his siblings' hands before heading to his class.

"Layla Greengrass," Madam Ballard, surprised, announced, "class 1D."

"She looks so confused," Leanne Greengrass giggled to herself. She still couldn't believe her sister would become a blood traitor. Her and Larissa had never been too close, that spot was reserved for Stefan. However, she would have never guessed that her unassuming and quiet big sister would stoop that low. 

Layla walked to the line that had begun to form. Victor nervously waited to hear his own class.

"Victor Greengrass," the confused teacher read out, "class 1E. Pardon, but are the three of you related by any chance?"

"We're triplets," the three siblings said in unison, terrifying the people around them.

Stefan Greengrass glanced at the little girl, Layla, on the screen. His heart was painfully aware of how similar she looked to his baby sister. He simply couldn't believe that they had really disowned her. He knew it had to be done, she had betrayed them, sired illegitimate bastards, yet his heart ached at the thought of her tears. Perhaps now that he knows, he can make sure she won't get disowned, won't whore herself out, won't sire bastards. He'll make sure she remains pure, even if he has to marry her off to one of his friends. So long as he could still call her his baby sister. This must be why the goddess had shown this. 

"That's so cool," a short brunette with blue eyes standing next to Layla says, before offering her hand, "I'm Jeanette Janed. Most people just call me Jean."

"Layla Greengrass," Layla took her hand, "pleasure to meet you."

"Is it weird being a triplet?" another classmate, a tall boy with blonde hair, green eyes, and freckles asked.

"No," Layla answered, "I love it. I wouldn't be the same person without my siblings."

On the other side of the room, Victor and Damian were getting the same treatment. Triplets were rare in the first place, but in the wizarding world, they were practically unheard of.

"Alright," Madam Ballard clapped her hands, "each group will now follow their assigned instructor around the school. I expect you to treat each instructor with their due respect."

A tall man approached Layla's class. He wore a long blue overcoat and his wand was neatly strapped to one of the six belts he was wearing. He had deep brown eyes, partnered with a strong physique and messy black hair.

"It's Monsieur Sallo!" Daniel Delancy cheered, "although he's looking much older than he does now."

"It's over a decade in the future," Guenevive rolled her eyes at her younger brother, "of course he'd look older."

"My name is Monsieur Sallo," the teacher introduced himself, "I teach Magical Defense to all years. Additionally, I run the dueling club for second years and above. Please follow me."

Monsieur Sallo shows all the students of class 1D around, pointing out each classroom that they would need to know. Layla drilled the locations into her memory, as well as writing quick reminders onto the schedule she had been handed earlier.

Meanwhile, Damian and class 1B were being guided by a female professor by the name of Madam Lucinda Faye. The woman was rather pale, with brown eyes hidden by glasses, and wearing a long navy robe with gold patterning on the bottom. She had quite a bit of jewelry, most prominent being her red ring and long, gold earring. 

"I teach astronomy," the stoic professor explained, "please be quiet as I explain how your day to day schedule is to go."

"I wonder who she is," Clarene voiced, before shrugging her shoulders, "no matter."

"Why is the goddess going into so much detail about these children's lives?" Oscar Prewett whispered to his wife, "it really does seem irrelevant."

"Keep your thoughts to yourself my dear," Elena said, in lieu of a response, "we do not wish to bring a goddess' wrath onto our family."

Madam Lucinda performed a similar tour to the one Monsieur Sallo gave to class 1D. Victor, on the other hand, was having a much different experience.

"Hello students!" a cheery professor greeted, "my name is Leopold Arquette. Proper procedure would see you call me Monsieur Arquette, but I prefer Monsieur Leopold. I teach potions, as well as ancient runes for those who choose it as an elective. "

Leopold Arquette was certainly a personality. The man had golden blond locks, bright green eyes that were hidden by golden glasses, and a slim, tall physique. He dressed impeccably, not surprising for a gentleman teaching at the honorable and esteemed Beauxbatons. He also carried a long stick, one too long to potentially be his wand.

"What an interesting fellow dear Leopold has turned out to be," Clarene smirked, "always knew he'd be an attractive man."

"You know him?" Larissa questioned her older cousin, "actually, how do all of you know everyone?"

"We went to Beauxbatons Rissa," Clarene rolled her eyes, "is it that hard to imagine? Anyways, Leopold was in my year. I never was friends with him, but we certainly got along."

"Hello Monsieur Leopold," the students all waved back, easing at the professor's laid back attitude. Victor observed the man. Growing up with incredibly intelligent individuals, Victor knew how to spot a person of intelligence. While the man certainly couldn't match his grandparents or mother, he wasn't lacking in the brains department. From the way his eyes roamed around, analyzing them, measuring their strength, to the look he got when they locked eyes. The look read, 'Ahh, so you're a clever one, aren't you?' Victor couldn't help but be impressed by the man.

"Now then," Monsieur Leopold clapped his hands, "on with the tour." Monsieur Leopold was an engaging guide, pointing out little things that he thought may help them remember their way around. He also retold old stories from his days at Beauxbatons, which always seemed to end in stern lectures from the previous headmaster.

When the three groups finished the tour, they all reconvened in the dining hall. A large, elegant woman stood at the podium, and watched as the students all took their seats.

"She reminds me of that filthy groundskeeper at Hogwarts," Rabastan remarked to Bellatrix sneeringly, "except at least she seems to have some taste."

"I agree Rabastan," Bellatrix herself sneered, "'tis a shame a prestigious magical institution like Beauxbatons could be so perverted as to have someone like her at its head."

"Watch how you speak of Olympe Maxime," Antiope hissed at the toxic pair, "she's worth far more than the both of you combined."

"How dare you!" Bellatrix seethed, itching for her wand, ready to blast Antiope to the ground. Luckily, Rodolphus, ever the calm one between the three Lestrange siblings, stopped his wife.

"Calm yourself Bella," he soothed, "we cannot risk the wrath of the Queen. Just take a deep breath."

"Very well," Bellatrix huffed, and re-sheathed her wand, not without glaring harshly at Antiope.

"Greetings," Madam Maxime addressed the students, "I am Madam Maxime, the current headmistress of the prestigious academy you are attending. I would hope that you all will upkeep that reputation, as Beauxbatons has no tolerance for the uncouth. I wish all of you a successful year, and for now, let us partake in your first meal at the palace." With a clap of her hands, nymphs entered the halls, singing as the food appeared on the tables.

The triplets inched towards each other, looking to share their observations with each other.

"I got a weird one," Victor told his siblings as he filled his plate, "name's Leopold Arquette. He seems very fun and seemingly lax, yet one look and you see his cunning side. He's a clever one. I don't think he has malicious intentions, he just seems a bit eccentric. He teaches potions, so I'm rather excited for his class. I thought he was rather charismatic."

"My guide was quiet," Damian explained, "name was Lucinda Faye and she teaches astronomy. She seemed rather apathetic if you will, or maybe I'm reading a little too into it. Either way, she didn't talk much, only pointed out the things we needed to know."

"They're so cute," Lily Evans couldn't help but gush, "the way they rely on each other is so beautiful. I wish Tuney and I could be anything like that."

"You don't have to feel bad, Lils," Mary McDonald said comfortingly, "every sibling relationship is different. Maybe Petunia will mend her ways?"

"I doubt it," Marlene scoffed, before pouting at their looks, "What? I can't have an opinion here?"

"Never change Marlene," Lily shook her head fondly. She was glad to have such great friends.

"My teacher was really simple," Layla rolled her eyes, "seemed like your average teacher. Not too interesting by my standards."

"You think Beauxbatons is going to be different from primary school?" Damian asked nervously.

"I doubt we'll get much flack for being bastards here," Layla rolled her eyes, "this school's population is at least a quarter percent of veela descent. They can't judge us for that when they're partially non-human. European magicals seem a little less judgmental than the ordinary citizens of France."

"Of course they're bullied for that," Larissa sighs deeply, "why must people be so crass?"

"I hope so," Victor sighed, "I don't think we'll be able to hold our tempers much here. The magic in the air makes me excited just by feeling it."

"Same here," Damian agreed, "but we'll have to work through it. Remember the meditation Maman taught us."

"Alright you goody-two shoes," Victor laughed, "we'll hold our tempers." 

The day passes quickly, and as the siblings settle into their separate dorms, they truly feel alone for the first time ever.

Chapter Text

"It seems that my children have had to be brave," Larissa mumbled to herself, "and I'm partially to blame."

Andrea couldn't bear looking at the girl who had once been her daughter. She felt horrible, despite knowing she had done what she needed for the purity of their family. She had done the right thing, so why was she feeling so guilty?

"Welcome to your very first potions class," Monsieur Leopold welcomed class 1E into the potions room, "we'll go around the room and list your names."

"Tristan Blanchar"

"Diane Roussel"

"Léon Belmont"

Victor waited patiently for his turn to say his name. He wanted to move on from introductions as soon as possible. He was excited to see how the potions lesson would begin. He wasn't lying when he told his siblings he thought Monsieur Leopold was charming. He just had an air about him that made Victor excited for potions, one of his better subjects.

"Alaina Laurent" the girl in front of him said, and all eyes turned to him.

"Victor Greengrass," Victor confidently announced, not ashamed in the slightest. It was always Damian who got hurt when the children at the playground or at primary would spit back the trash their parents were spewing about them. As they got a bit older, it was always Damian who was bullied the most, having a rather soft hearted nature. Surprising most who would meet her, Layla was also a deeply sensitive person at heart. She clothed herself in fierceness to try and frighten off the insulters, but too many times had he and Damian had to hold their little sister as she sobbed her heart out.

His mother always was a subject of controversy no matter where they lived. They'd moved to many places, his mother trying to escape her reputation. Yet one way or the other, people always found out that they were fatherless. That their mother was a single mom of three children. Any time she tried to make friends, she was shunned by the social circles surrounding her. No one wanted to speak to a supposed prostitute.

Victor remembers asking his mother why she remained in France at all. She wasn't French at all, but a British witch. If the people here were so bad, why remain in a foreign country? Victor remembers the bitter and haunted look his mother gave him that day. It was of a woman who had truly suffered.

"Victor my love," she had told him that day, "if you think what they tell us here is bad, then you've been mistaken. The magical community there is vicious to those that they don't like. Women who have children out of wedlock are most definitely included in that.  England is smaller than France by a fair amount, so it's much easier to hide, especially when they don't know you. In England, the entirety of the magical community shunned me. I was a pureblood girl who had committed the grave sin of getting pregnant. They labeled me as a blood traitor, which especially in those times, was practically a death sentence."

"A deserved one at that," Elladora Lestrange rolled her eyes, "these are the consequences of her actions. I hardly see a reason for pity."

"I don't recall asking for it," Larissa quietly rebutted, shocking her siblings. The Larissa that they knew was never this feisty.

"Why you insolent wench!" Elladora Lestrange screeched, "why, I ought to curse you real well."

"Are you really going to threaten me in a room full of aurors?" Larissa gestured to the aurors in the room, who in the commotion, had unsheathed their wands. Elladora growled, before reluctantly sitting back in her seat.

"I didn't know you had it in you," Gideon Prewett laughed, "you always were a quiet one."

"Perhaps I'm tired of it all," Larissa says, voice cold, "tired of my future being broadcasted to complete and utter strangers."

"Why?" he had innocently asked, not preparing for the onslaught of information his mother would disclose.

"Death eaters," Larissa's face darkened considerably, "they were the servants of a dark lord, Voldemort was the name he went by. He preached blood purity, the concept of people of old magic being the only ones worthy of magic. They wanted those wizards, purebloods they called themselves, to run the world, muggles and "impure" witches and wizards alike. They didn't like people of the old families who strayed from that viewpoint. Part of their ideology was that women were best suited to marriage and childbearing. There were definitely powerful witches amongst their ranks, but they considered carrying on the family legacy the top priority."

"What does that have to do with you?" Victor had asked, "you said you were a pureblood."

"When I was impregnated with you and your siblings," Larissa clarifies, "I was disowned for having a child out of wedlock. My parents had been particularly embarrassed, I was the eldest daughter, and were worried it would affect my sisters and brothers' marriage proposals. Disowning me publicly led to me being considered a blood traitor, and therefore, public enemy number three to the death eaters. I almost died seven separate times by their hands, all while I was pregnant with you and your siblings."

"That's horrible," Lily gasped, her warm heart empathizing with the woman on the wall, "is that really what you purebloods do?"

"Not all of us," Euphemia Potter proudly proclaimed, "we Potters would never do such a thing. It goes against our family motto: Protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Yeah," James agreed with his mother, "that's why we fight against Voldemort. We are not ashamed to live alongside muggles, muggleborns, or half-bloods. Human life is precious to us."

Lily couldn't help but stare at James. This was far more than she normally saw from the immature boy. She was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps he'd turn into a person she could fall for. She knew she'd marry him in the future, a fact she was rather happy had been overlooked earlier. It was nice to see a sliver of the man she assumed she fell for.

"Was it really that bad?" Victor wondered aloud. He had contemplated back then to ask his mother for more about his father, but had decided he'd rather not. All he knew about his father was that he was a cruel man who had hurt many people, including his mother. They had never been in love, never at all. His mother promised to tell them more when they came back from their first year of Beauxbatons. 

"It was," Larissa shuddered, "I barely escaped with my life. Now, though, I doubt society remembers me much. Yet still, it's unsafe to return. "

Those words had stuck with Victor for a long time. His siblings had always wished to hide who they were, pretending to be anything but Greengrasses. To be anything more than bastards. Victor wasn't like that. He embraced himself as he was, and wasn't ashamed of his mother. No, he was ashamed to be his father's son. He was ashamed that his father caused harm to hundreds. 

Victor could hear the gossip, heard the word bastard come out of people's mouths. How they knew was beyond him, yet he still held his head high. He was Victor Greengrass and nothing could make him hate that.

As the rest of the people introduced themselves, Victor made small talk with the boy sitting next to him. The boy had a face of freckles, thin glasses, bright blond hair, and shining blue eyes. His name was Eric Bauter.

"Alright," Monsieur Leopold clapped his hand, "let's begin with the basics. What are potions?"

A few students raised their hands, eager to show off their knowledge to the teacher. Victor raised his hand, knowing the answer. How could he not? It was one of his Grandpa's favorite things to do with him and his siblings.

"Victor," Monsieur Leopold called on him, "can you please answer?

"I wonder what he'll say," Fleamont Potter stroked his beard, "it's always very interesting to hear how children explain things. It brings novelty to things you already know."

"I'd say that potions are a magical form of chemistry," Victor answered, "there's science and reason behind them. Potions are created of pre-existing ingredients with magical qualities, and the ingredients are merged to create a concoction that can perform a new magical function."

"Clever answer," the teacher praised, "potions are indeed a magical version of chemistry. Each ingredient has individual properties that, when put in certain circumstances, can alter their functions. Now, we are going to do an exercise. I want all of you to list all the potions ingredients you know, and right their properties beside the name. The student with the most accurate answers will receive a prize from me."

"An excellent way to start," Professor Slughorn remarked, "you first must evaluate the level of your students before teaching. Otherwise you'll be teaching brick walls."

"I agree," Professor McGonagall concurred, "if we're being honest, I'm rather excited to see who teaches transfiguration."

Victor instantly grabbed his quill and began writing messily. He'd never really mastered the tool. He much preferred the pens that he'd used in primary school. He'd have to owl his mother to ask her to send him some.

"Time is up," the teacher waved his wand, and all the papers flew into his hands, "I will now evaluate your skills. Please open your books to page 12 and begin to brew the dizziness potion. No need to worry, we will learn how to do everything properly tomorrow. For now, I will just observe."

Victor immediately began falling into the routine that his grandfather had taught him. Clean the cauldron, set down your cutting board, balance your scales, then begin. The instructions instructed to cut three horned slugs, dice four lavender plants, and pour six drops of rose water in. There were also specific stirring instructions, as well as ways to heat the cauldron and pour in the water.

Remembering his mother's trick, Victor turned the heat to the right temperature before he began dicing. He poured half the water in after three minutes, and then set the cup of water down. He set a timer on his watch, and began dicing the lavender. When his timer rang, he secretly snapped, pouring the water in the cauldron as he continued to do his ingredient prep. Unbeknownst to him, he wasn't as sneaky as he thought.

"Curious," Leopold Arquette mumbled to himself, "a child capable of wandless magic. I'm going to keep an eye on you, Victor Greengrass."

"Great," Larissa buried her head in her hands, "now my son is on the teacher's watchlist."

Meanwhile, Layla is being instructed by another teacher. He was completely bald, save for his beard, had a dagger hanging off his belt, and had a strange looking symbol on cape. Layla guessed he must be Greek, as he matched the traditional wear that she had read about. While someone should normally be fearful of their teacher possessing a dagger, Layla was well aware of the Greek custom of bearing one. It was out of respect for their old culture.

"My name is Joseph Ariti," he introduced, Greek accent very distinguishable, confirming Layla's thoughts, "I will be your transfiguration teacher for the year. I expect all of you to perform to your best abilities, and where you are lacking, I will assist. For now, we will begin by discussing the five fundamental laws of Gamp."

Damian is seen immediately after, sitting in Madam Ballard's charms class. The three siblings take to their lessons like fish to bait. They truly are their mother's children.

Chapter Text

"I'm glad that the children are doing well," Euphemia Potter whispered to her husband, "I'd hate for them to suffer anymore than they already have."

"I agree my beloved," Fleamont squeezes Euphemia's hand, "it's unfortunate when people throw away family for pointless reasons like this."

December 8th, 1991.

"Happy birthday!" Léon Belmont cheered as Victor walked to their class table, "how does it feel to be a year older?"

"Pretty good," Victor laughs, "have you seen my siblings though? I want to wish them a happy birthday. We all agreed to eat breakfast together."

"I think Layla just got to the D table," Clara Bafden, another classmate, pointed out, "not sure about your brother though."

"Thanks Clara," Victor thanked, before walking over to his baby sister.

"Vic!" Layla sprung onto her older brother, "happy birthday!"

"Layls," Victor spun her around, "happy birthday to you too!"

"They're so wholesome," Sirius mumbled under his breath, "why can't Regulus and I be like that?"

"Come sit," Layla ushered her brother into the seat next to her, "Damian should be here any moment. Maman said we should take pictures, so we'll have to wait for him."

"Well you won't have to wait long," Damian's voice sounded from behind them, "budge over baby sibs."

"Damian," Layla whined as he squeezed next to her, "you're squishing me."

"Oh stuff it," Damian rolled his eyes, gabbing a croissant, "you'll live."

"They have an interesting dynamic," Edmund Greengrass mused to himself, "I wonder how things will go from here." He was as shocked as his siblings about Larissa's betrayal. He was horrified, in fact. Delia Shafiq, his fiancee, may choose not to marry into the Greengrass family. It would stain his record if both his fiancee broke it off with him and his sister was a whore. How would he pass his bloodline on?

"Is that Maman's owl?" Victor interrupted their argument, pointing to a beautiful tawny owl.

"I think so," Damian smiled, "she must have sent us birthday wishes."

The tawny owl reaches the three siblings, and Layla gently pries the letter from its legs. Damian feeds the bird as she opens the box.

"This is yours," she hands a blue package to Damian, "and the purple's yours Vic." Layla continues to open the back, and a strange pendant drops out of the box. As it hits the ground, it shines blue, and the image of Larissa Greengrass manifests in the middle of the dining hall.

"Impressive," Albus compliments, "I've never seen anything quite like that. I wonder how it's made."

"Bonjour my loves," Larissa's sweet voice reverberated around the dining hall. The entire room goes silent, the sight is a magical anomaly.

"Is that Maman?" Layla whispers to Victor, who immediately jabs her in the ribs.

"Be quiet," he hisses, trying to hear what their mother would say next.

"Happy twelfth birthday!" Larissa cheers, "I can't believe you three are already twelve. It seems like it was only yesterday you were little babies, and now you're off at boarding school. As this is our first time apart on your birthday, I thought of sending you one of my newer prototype projectors as a gift. You can record anything with this, and store it in a marble. Then you can replay the marble. I've sent you thirty six of them, twelve for each of you. Always remember how much I love you. Adieu!"

"I can't believe this," Arcturus Black's eyes widened, "and it's only a prototype. The House of Black absolutely must get their hands on this girl. If we don't, someone else will."

"Agreed," Melania agreed softly, "but what do we have to offer her?"

"Was that your mom?" Jean Janed, Layla's best friend, asked, "because if she is, I suddenly realize why you three are acing everything."

"She is," Layla confirmed sheepishly, "I would have never thought her to be this dramatic though."

"I'm sort of surprised as well," Damian confessed, "I wonder what's gotten into her."

December 21st, 1991.

"Maman!" the children called as they raced towards their mother. Larissa visibly brightened as she opened her arms for her children to run into.

"They're so precious," Elena Prewett wiped a tear from her eye, "why can't my babies be this affectionate to me?"

The Prewett children felt dread building up in them. When their mother got like this, there was no escaping her mother henning.

"My babies," Larissa kissed each of them on the head multiple times, examining them from head to toe, "you've grown so much."

"Not that much," Victor embarrassedly denied, "are we flying back?"

"No," Larissa smiled gently at her son, "we're going to drive."

"Drive?" Damian questioned, "drive what?"

"I've taken the liberty to purchase a car," Larissa confesses to her children, "I've also enchanted it to fly, float, and go underwater. We'll be taking that home." Larissa pointed to a Ford Orion parked a few feet away. 

"Incredible," Arthur Weasley was practically salivating over the car.

"Oh great," Molly sighs, "now he's got the bug."

"You chose to marry him," her brother sang at her misery.

"I did, didn't I?" Molly softened, and kissed Arthur, "I guess I'll have to put up with it."

December 25th, 1991.

"Have you prepared for Yule?" Larissa poked her head in her daughter's room. Larissa was always blown away at the beauty of her daughter. Layla had let her strawberry blonde curls down and was dressed in her yule finest. Her daughter was also wearing the silver locket she had gifted her two years prior.

Larissa couldn't help but see her reflection in her daughter. Sure Layla was louder and more mischievous than Larissa had ever been, but her daughter's kind nature definitely came from her. She couldn't help but be constantly nervous about the nature of her children. Their father was a heartless monster, and Larissa worked achingly hard to ensure her children would never become him.

"I'm ready," Layla twirled in a swirl of turquoise and gold, "how do I look?"

"Marvelous," Larissa kissed her daughter's forehead, "let's go drag your older brothers out of their room."

The boys were already dressed by the time they walked in. Victor was dressed in darker blues and greens, his skin and hair far more suited to those shades than his lighter siblings. Damian was wearing an outfit which resembled Layla's, the two of them far better suited to lighter shades. All of them, Larissa included, had gold accents on their clothing. Larissa herself was dressed similar to Victor, as the two shared the same dark hair. 

"I can't believe the family's good looks were wasted on these bastards," Gloria Greengrass huffed angrily, "the beauty of our family should remain with those who deserve it."

Larissa simply ignored her younger sister. It hurt to hear her talk of her that way. Only yesterday the two of them had been sitting on her bed giggling over a stupid romance novel. How had things turned like this so quickly?

"My nieces and nephews looking good," Antiope burst into the room, snapping pictures of the startled family, "Merry Yule."

"Merry Yule Aunt Antiope," the three chorused, causing their aunt to smush them into a tight hug.

"I've missed you three," she said as she released them, "so I came over to check on you guys before the party."

"Thank you," Larissa smiled softly at her aunt, "let's go then. I'm sure the others are waiting."

Minutes later, the family of four, along with Antiope, were surrounded by the loving members of the Delancy family.

"It's us!" Lyra eagerly squealed, "oh, I hope I get to see who I married."

"Rissa!" Guenevive Abello-Delancy swept her cousin into a hug, before kissing her cheeks, "how have you been?"

"Well," Larissa replied, "how are you and Ajax doing? Is Dorea doing well?"

"See for yourself," Guenevive smirked, before shouting, "Ajax Abello-Delancy! Bring Dorea over to say hello to Rissa!"

"Excuse me, what!" Guenivive flushed red, "are you saying I actually married that prick?"

"Seems so," Daniel smirked as he exchanged money with a disgruntled Lillian, "I told you all the tension was sexual."

"You little-" Guenivive was silenced by a quick spell of her mother's. Antiope knew nothing dignified would be coming out of her daughter's mouth, so she decided to spare her the indignity.

"Merry Yule Larissa," tall, blonde, Ajax Abello-Delancy greets her, "say bonjour to Auntie Rissa my dear."

"Bonjour," a cute blonde, freckled girl repeated back, "you look really pretty Auntie Rissa."

"Oh my goodness," Guenivive fanned herself, "is that my child?"

"Seems so," Antiope fawned over her granddaughter, "she is simply adorable. Dorea is a beautiful name as well."

"Thank you Dorea," Larissa smiled. She was glad to be with family again.

Meanwhile, Victor and Damian had run over to see some of the other boys.

"Bonjour Boaz," Victor greeted his black haired cousin, "you ready to join us in school next year?"

"Definitely," Boaz Cartier replied, "Maman keeps trying to convince me to stay home, but I told her I wouldn't. She's realized it's a lost cause, and moved onto Issy."

"She doesn't stop," said the boy moaning, "it's always, "Come on Issy. You don't want to leave me alone with just Papa do you?" It's horrid."

"Sounds like Auntie Lillian alright," Damian chuckled, "don't know how Uncle Ansel deals with it."

"So the boys are mine," Lillian grins, "good. They're absolutely dashing."

"She's definitely the type to be a clingy mother," Silas whispered to his sister Leanne, "I dread to think about it."

"Same here," Leanne shuddered. She didn't forget Lillian's weird dress up phase. No one could.

"He's sappily in love," Victor gagged, "we all know that. Why else would he move here from Germany to live with her?"

"That's sweet," Antiope gushed, "I'm so happy for future you, Lillian."

"Thanks Maman," Lillian kisses her mother's cheek in appreciation. She wasn't so sure how she would meet him, but she was sort of excited.

"I know, I know," Damian rolls his eyes, "anyways, have the Delancys got here yet? Auntie Freeda said I could hold Arden."

"Uncle Daniel said he's coming late," a tall brunette with similar facial features to Austin Borier informed them as she passed by, "and Arden's not coming. He's come down with a cold, so Auntie Freeda hired a babysitter to watch him."

"She looks like Austin," Clarene said, "so she must be mine. Perhaps she's Freya's sister."

"Thanks Estelle," Issy thanked his older cousin, "say hello to Isaac for me."

"Will do Isidore," Estelle called as she left, causing Issy to grit his teeth.

"I hate it when you call me that!" he shouts angrily, "my name is ISSY. Not Isidore. ISSY!"

"Let it go," Damian sighs, "Estelle's not going to drop it."

"Fine," Issy pouts, "I'll let it go this time."

Meanwhile, Layla was talking to Freya, while holding a cute blonde haired blue eyed girl.

"Can I hold her?" Freya begged her younger cousin, "you've been holding her for forever."

"No," Layla clutched the girl closer to her chest, "Fleur's mine."

"So mean," Freya whined, "in five minutes?"

"Fine," Layla handed Fleur to Freya, "I'll go tell Auntie Lyra."

"So the baby is mine," Lyra blushed, "good to know."

"Are you sure you're not interested?" a broad shouldered, dark haired man with a thick beard asked Larissa in a thick German accent, "he's a really nice guy."

"I'm sure Ansel," Larissa sighed, "I'm not interested in dating him."

"Shame," Ansel shrugged, "I thought you two would make a good pair. But if you're not ready, so be it."

"That's the guy Lillian marries?" Edmund Greengrass' jaw dropped. Of all the types of men out there, he would have never expected his dainty yet spunky cousin to choose such a man.

"Lay off her," a tall, skinny blonde man said, "when Larissa is ready to date, I'm sure she'll tell us. then we'll help her find a partner."

"Definitely," Larissa rolled her eyes, "I'm one hundred percent satisfied with having my baby cousins' partners set me up. Sounds perfect Marius."

"You set Lyra and I up," Marius points out, "can I not wish to do the same?"

"So that's Lyra's guy," Clarene looked the guy up and down, "not surprised. He fits her type."

"Whatever," Larissa sighs, "who knows when I'll be ready? It could be never."

"And that's perfectly alright," Clarene reassured, her bright blonde hair set in a bob, "isn't that right Austin?"

"Of course honey," Austin Borier backed up his wife, "now, why don't we all celebrate Yule by having a toast?"

As the family of four settled into the festivities with their family, they were blissfully unaware of the events that would shake everything up approaching.

Chapter Text

June 17th, 1992.

Larissa Greengrass is seen sitting in her kitchen when the floo flashes green. Nicholas Flamel's aged face appears in the green flames.

"Nicholas?" Larissa questions, dropping her knitting onto the table in order to speak with him by the fireplace, "is something wrong?"

"I need you to bring the kids to my house," Nicholas said, a strange severity to his voice, "how quickly can you do that?"

"What?" Larissa questioned her mentor, "what's going on Nicholas? Why do I need to get them?"

"Please," Nicholas begged his pupil, "just do as I say. I promise I'll explain everything."

"Alright," Larissa sighed, "give me two hours. I can have them here within two hours."

"Thank you Larissa," Nicholas sighed with relief, "you're always so reliable."

"What the hell was that about?" Larissa mumbled to herself as she prepared to call Madam Maxime.

"I am also confused," Albus Dumbledore stroked his beard, "in all my years of working with Nicholas, he's never acted like this before."

"We'll have to wait and see," Minerva McGonagall turned her sharp eyes to the projection, "it's our only option."

"Madam Greengrass," Madame Maxime's face appeared in the floo after ten tries, "is there something you need? You've flooed ten times already."

"A family emergency has cropped up," Larissa got straight to the point, "I'll be flying over to collect my triplets. I should have them back to school by tomorrow unless something goes wrong."

"Oh," Madam Maxime seemed confused, "can it really not wait for the morning? It's already eight thirty."

"I myself am unsure what's going on," Larissa sighed, "so it'd be best to get it over with as quickly as possible."

"Very well," Madam Maxime says, "I'll have Monsieur Arquette escort them to the entrance of the school. When will you be here exactly?"

"Approximately an hour," Larissa glanced at her watch, "thank you for your cooperation. I am incredibly sorry for disturbing you at this hour."

"No problem," Madam Maxime brushes off her apology, "this is my job."

"Olympe is as good as ever," Antiope says fondly, "she'll be a wonderful headmistress. Beauxbatons will thrive under her guidance."

"How do you know her?" Larissa inquired of her aunt, curious to see how her aunt was in contact with such a character.

"We were classmates," Antiope explains, "we still remain in contact until today."

"Is something wrong?" Layla asks her professor as they walk toward the entrance of the school. 

"I don't know," Monsieur Leopold answered honestly, "all I know is that Madam Maxime informed me that your mother would be coming to collect you three."

"Maman isn't the type to do things spontaneously," Victor voices, "it must be something really serious for her to pull us out for the day."

"Is that your mother over there?" Monsieur Leopold points to a frantic Larissa, who was standing by the car.

"Yes," Damian answered as his siblings rushed to their mother.

"I'm so sorry for the bother," Larissa apologizes to Monsieur Leopold, "I didn't mean to drag you out here in the middle of the night?"

"No problem," Monsieur Leopold smiles charmingly, "it was no bother at all. I just hope whatever is going on can be resolved swiftly."

"Thank you," Larissa responds, cheeks slightly red, "let's hurry children. Nicholas is waiting for us."

"Did I see that right?" Lyra smirked to herself, "it seems that our Rissa is in for a fun time."

"Oh hush," Antiope smacked her daughter lightly, "your cousin isn't the type to fall in love at first sight."

"I agree," Daniel tells his mother, "she's had a bad experience when it comes to men. She wouldn't be careless with her heart."

"Still," Lyra insisted, "I can just tell there's something there."

"Just don't be disappointed when you're wrong," Daniel told his older sister, before returning to the vision on the wall.

"I wonder who Nicholas is?" Leopold Arquette is seen mumbling to himself as the car flies into the distance, "and you Greengrasses are an interesting bunch. I just know there's something different about you."

"What's going on Maman?" Damian asks once they're all buckled into the car, "why did you pull us out so suddenly?"

"Your grandfather floo called," Larissa replied, not once taking her eyes off the "road", "he didn't tell me much. Only that I had to bring you three to his place as soon as possible."

"Then we best get there soon," Layla says, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, "it's the only way to solve this perplexing mystery."

"You and your formal way of speaking," Victor shook his head, "always showing off."

"You meanie," Layla whines, "I'm not showing off."

"Let's stop the arguing now," Larissa doesn't even have to look at them to see the fighting that was beginning, "if another word comes out of either of your mouths, you can say goodbye to our summer vacation to the Amazon."

"Sorry Maman," the two quickly apologized, "we'll stop arguing."

"Good," Larissa smiled, "why don't you three tell me about school?"

"I wish my mother was anything like this," Marlene Mckinnion sighed, "my mom's cold as ice. I don't think she's ever asked me a single thing about my life unless it was about finding a "good pureblood boy.""

After about an hour, the car parks in front of their home. The children would floo to the Flamels from there.

Layla is the first to floo. She tossed the green powder into the fire and shouted, "Flamel Residence and Laboratory!" She's surrounded by burning green fire and lands in her grandparents' home. She's greeted by the sight of them sitting in the presence of a perfect stranger.

"Nicholas," Albus Dumbledore begins slowly, "may I ask why a child has just come through your floo?"

"What is he doing there?" Orion Black scowled, "does he not have his fingers in enough pies already?"

"Better question," Layla asks, "who are you and what are you doing in my grandparents' kitchen?"

"I didn't know you had a grandchild," a surprised Dumbledore turned to Nicholas and Pereneller. He would have said more, but was interrupted by the arrival of Victor.

"Who's the Gandalf ripoff?" he bluntly questions, causing Nicholas and Albus to choke on their teas.

"I'm starting to like this kid," James Potter grins, "he has a sense of humor."

"That's no way to speak to your elders," Perenelle sternly lectures, "this man is a good friend of your grandfather and I. He is an exceptionally powerful wizard. You ought to treat him with respect."

"Sorry Granny," Victor hung his head, "and sorry mysterious friend of Grandpa's."

"No harm done young man," Albus said, slightly shaken by the fact that his friend had grandchildren. He now understood the older man's words from earlier that night.

"Wait a moment," Perenelle narrowed her eyes, "where's Damian?"

"Here Granny," the boy says, making a dramatic exit out of the floo, "Maman is right behind me."

"I can always count on you for reliability," Perenelle says fondly, "you're like your mother in that regard."

"He is definitely more like the mother out of three," Rodolphus observes, "the real question is, does that make him magically the same? We've seen the girl use wandless magic as well as the dark haired boy. Can this one do it too?"

"We'll have to wait and see," Rabastan looks at the screen. There was no point in speculating. All they could do was watch and see.

"Are you three here?" Larissa arrives, looking the three over, "no one's lost?"

"We're all here Maman," the three chorused, making their mother sigh in relief. She turned to look for her mentor, but was met with a blast from the past.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Larissa was shocked. What was he doing here? Is he the reason Nicholas called?

"Ms. Greengrass?" Albus himself is shocked. What was his former student doing in his old friends’ home? And why were her children calling his friend grandfather?

"You're already acquainted then," Nicholas begins, "Albus, meet my incredibly talented and powerful protegee, Larissa Greengrass. The older blonde is Damian, the black haired boy is Victor, and the girl is Layla."

"I see," Albus stretches his hand out to Larissa, "pleasure to remake your acquaintance. You've grown a lot since your Hogwarts days."

"Little does he know how much," Albus laughs at his confused older self. It was a little eerie to watch oneself like this, although it is certainly humbling.

"How do you know our Maman?" Layla asked, eyes narrowing at the older man.

"Your mother was a student at Hogwarts," Albus explains kindly, "and I am Hogwarts' headmaster."

"This is all well and good," Larissa cuts the conversation, "but Nicholas, what in Merlin's name did you call us here for? I had to wake members of the Beauxbatons staff to get these three here."

"Ah," the atmosphere between the older three darkened, "perhaps you four should take a seat. It's a rather heavy topic."

The four sat down, Larissa eyeing her mentor nervously. Nicholas was never like this. What could possibly have caused him to be so tense?

"As you know," Nicholas began, "my eternal life is sustained by drinking the elixir of life, which is produced by my Philosopher's Stone."

"Okay," Larissa cautiously said, "what's new about that?"

"Earlier this year," Nicholas continued, "I entrusted the stone to Albus, believing that Hogwarts would be a safer place for it. True to Albus's word, the vault that had contained the stone only hours before was broken into."

"Where is this heading?" Arcturus Black wondered aloud to his wife, "and should we be concerned that Albus Dumbledore is trusted by Nicholas Flamel?"

"Grandfather," Regulus spoke up quietly, "with all due respect, didn't you already know that the two were close friends? It's a widely known fact, even featured on Dumbledore's chocolate frog card."

"He has a good point," Melania raised an eyebrow at her husband, "has old age already gotten to your memory?"

"Melania," Arcturus looked at his wife, betrayed, "you too?"

"Yes dear," Melania smiled, "best hear it from the person you love most."

"When you put it that way," Arcturus' features softened. Despite being the cruel head of the House of Black, the man who raised Orion Back to be the toxic, entitled, pureblood-obsessed, abusive father he was, Arcturus was madly in love with his beloved wife.

"Where is this story heading?" Larissa felt a sense of dread fill her. What was Nicholas trying to tell her?

"Lord Voldemort is still alive," Nicholas cut to the chase, "and he is trying to get eternal life using my stone. Albus was barely able to hold him off. As long as my stone exists, Lord Voldemort will do anything to get his hands on it."

"Our lord is alive!" Bellatrix flushed with joy, "praised be Salazar Slytherin. I knew a mere boy couldn't stop him."

"It was too good to be true," Fleamont sighed bitterly, "my James died for nothing then. Such is the cruelty of this world."

"I didn't die for nothing," James attempted to console his father, "we put him out of commission for ten years? Ten years free of death and hatred? Is that not something worth dying for?"

"James," Sirius cried, crushing his brother in a hug, "you dying will never be worth it."

"What are you trying to say, Grandpa?" Layla anxiously asked her grandfather, eyes beginning to tear up. She didn't like the conclusions her head was reaching.

"Perenelle and I discussed it over with Albus," Nicholas guiltily broke the news, "we've decided to destroy the Philosopher's Stone."

"WHAT?!" screams of shock reverberated around the room. Was it true? Was the century old Nicholas Flamel truly going to die?

"NO!" the four shouted, eyes filling with anger, betrayal, and fear. They couldn't believe the words that had just left Nicholas' mouth.

Larissa couldn't believe her ears. Was her mentor truly going to do this to her? Was he really going to abandon her too? She couldn't believe what she had heard. He was going to leave her children without grandparents?  Larissa had had nothing when she first entered the care of Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel.  She had been a single mother who had the enormous task of raising three children to become kind, moral members of society. She had been drowning in her fears and insecurities due to the nature of her children's conception. Yet Nicholas had lifted her up, empowered her to become the amazingly powerful witch she now is. He had taught her almost everything she knew. How would she survive without him?

"You absolute piece of shit!" Victor tearfully shouted at Dumbledore, "how could you tell them to do this?"

"Victor," Perenelle gasped, "language."

"No Granny!" Victor screamed, "how can you allow this man to convince you to kill yourselves? Do you not love us enough to stay? We're your grandkids. At least I thought so."

"Victor," Larissa scolded him, "no matter how angry you are, and Merlin knows I'm furious, do not resort to that level."

"Sorry Maman," Victor apologizes, "that doesn't mean I don't hate your ex-headmaster's guts."

"I'm truly sorry it has to be like this," both Dumbledore's say, spooking the people in the room. It was crazy how in sync Albus Dumbledore was with his future self.

"I can't believe you're asking us to allow you to kill yourselves," Layla shakes her head, "it hurts. A lot."

"We're sorry about it," Nicholas says, "we have enough elixir to last through the summer, to settle our affairs, ensure the future of our estate."

"I forgive you," Damian quietly spoke, his siblings and mother turning to him in shock. How could he forgive such a thing?

"Thank you Damian," Pernelle thanked him, tears streaming down her sullen cheeks, "that makes me feel just a little more at peace."

"How?" Layla turns to her older brother, tears in her eyes, "how can you forgive this?"

"Don't mistake my forgiveness for approval," Damian said sharply, "I'm no more happy about it than any of you. However, there is a bigger picture. I cannot imagine the guilt I would feel if others had to suffer because I wanted my grandfather and grandmother to stay with us. I wouldn't be able to handle being responsible for the rise of the Dark Lord that led to the terror that created the circumstances of our birth. Our grandparents are grown, wise people. As much as it pains me to say, we have no say in their decisions. We must respect them."

"What a mature young boy," Horace Slughorn wiped a tear from his eye. The entire scene was heartbreaking. The small family had suffered greatly due to the Dark Lord, yet they were forced to suffer even more to prevent everyone else from suffering as well. What a cruel fate.

"Indeed," Filius Flitwick agreed with his colleague, "I've seen grown adults handle situations worse. Future you have raised an incredible boy Ms. Greengrass."

"Thank you," Larissa stuttered, unsure about the whole situation. She had no real connection to the Flamels now, so why did she feel so upset? Perhaps seeing future her and her kids being so devastated was the cause?

"Damian," Larissa sobbed, gripping her oldest tightly, "you have comforted me. We will get through this. I promise my loves."

"Tell me exactly how the Dark Lord almost got the stone," Victor demanded from Dumbledore, "and how much of your own incompetence is the problem?"

Dumbledore sighs, "Both myself and the staff at Hogwarts designed traps to guard the stone. They lasted most of the year, at least until last night. Lord Voldemort had possessed a professor, and had reached the last obstacle. Harry Potter and two of his friends passed through the traps, and the young boy managed to stall Lord Voldemort until I arrived. He managed to burn the vessel to death."

"That's my grandson!" Euphemia Potter cheered proudly, "he's made us Potters proud."

"He just killed a man," Fleamont pointed out gently, "is that something to be proud of?"

"When it's a vessel of Voldemort then yes," James rolled his eyes, "just be proud dad."

"How the hell did three first years get through your traps if they were designed to hold back Lord Voldemort?" Larissa viciously tore Dumbledore's story apart, "also, how did a mere child burn a vessel of Voldemort to death?"

"The power of love," Albus smiled gently, "when Lily Potter died for her son, she cast a protective charm so powerful that it protected him from the touch of a man like Voldemort. Love so strong leaves no physical mark, yet causes absolute agony to those who touch the one who was so loved. Her sacrifice continues to protect her son from her murderer until this day."

"I knew the Evans girl was an incredibly loving girl," Larissa breathed, "but that is simply incredible. I'll have to look into such magic."

Euphemia Potter surprised all in the room by hugging the astonished muggleborn girl.

"Thank you," she said softly, "thank you for loving my grandson so much. Thank you for allowing him to live."

"He's my son," Lily's eyes hardened, "there's no doubt that I'd do it again and again."

"Thank you Lily," James faced the woman he loved, "thank you so so much."

"Thank you as well," Lily smiled slightly at him, "you sacrificed yourself as well. You protected us. Don't forget that."

"You've left a question unanswered," Layla roughly pointed out, "are you going to answer or not?"

  "I admit that we may not have done the best job," Dumbledore sighed, "but the last obstacle would have held him back had the Potter boy not been there. The boy didn't realize it, but his very presence in the room caused everything to go southwards. He'll learn though."

"If I ever meet this kid," Victor growled, "I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"Why don't we head home?" Larissa suggested, "I'll owl Madam Maxime and tell her you won't be returning until the day after tomorrow. Then we can finish this discussion with cooler heads."

"Very well," Damian agreed, and the four walked off, unsure of what the next day would bring.

Chapter Text

June 18th, 1992.

"Are you alright Maman?" Laylas asked her mother nervously, "you don't look very well."

Layla was right. Larissa's eyes were bloodshot, deep bags had formed beneath them, and her hair and makeup were a mess. She looked as if she hadn't slept a wink.

"I'll be alright," Larissa responded, flicking her wand. Immediately, her appearance returned to some semblance of presentable.

"You'll have to teach me how to do that," Layla begged her mother, "it seems so useful."

"All in good time," Larissa flicked her wand again, and breakfast began cooking itself, "go wake your brothers please."

"Yes Maman," Layla nodded, and rushed off to do as she was told.

"What do you want?" a groggy Damian groaned as he awoke to a loud knock at his door.

"Maman said to come for breakfast," Layla responded from behind the door, "can you please wake Victor as well?"

"Sure sis," Damian dragged himself out of bed, "wake up Vic. Maman says it's time for breakfast."

"Coming," Victor got out of bed slowly, "you go ahead. I'll be there soon."

"It's so strange to see them so domestic," Mary whispered to Marlene, "seeing how devastated they'd been the night before. It's rather unsettling, isn't it?"

"I see your point," Marlene agreed, eying the people in the vision warily, "I'm not sure the serenity will last long though."

"What are we going to do?" Damian tentatively breaks the silence at the table. No one at the table has much of an answer. Nicholas and Perenelle had dropped a crushing blow to them only a night before. It was normal that they hadn't finished processing yet.

"I think we'll cancel our Amazon vacation," Larissa finally spoke, laying her fork down gracefully, "and use the time to make memories with your grandparents. I'll find a nice ride, and we'll take your grandparents on a nice road or, well, flying, trip around the continent. Perhaps we'll go meet with some of their old friends. I want us to make the most of it. There's no use using the short time we have left angry."

"I like the sound of that," Layla perked up slightly, "we can even make fun scrapbooks."

"Excellent idea, darling," Larissa praised, "now, let's get you three back to school. I'll inform your grandparents myself later today."

After eating breakfast, the four head to the car to drive back to Beauxbatons. As soon as they arrived at the gates of Beauxbatons, Larissa turned to her children to impart words of wisdom.

"Don't let this whole thing ruin your last days of school," she instructed them, "have fun with your friends. We'll be seeing each other in less than a week. Until then, live freely."

"Yes Maman," the three agreed, and Larissa parked the car in the front of the school. As Larissa watched her children head back inside, she felt a pair of eyes burning the back of her head.

"Homenium Revelio," she whispered, using verbal magic to not alert the stalker to her true abilities. The spell revealed a human standing fifteen feet behind her, at a fountain. Larissa turned around, and her children's professor, Leopold Arquette, was standing there. Surprised at being caught, the man sheepishly waved her over.

"I think I might be right," Lyra singsonged into Daniel's ear, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"It could be curiosity," Daniel defends his point, "the man's expressed an interest in the kids as well. Perhaps he's just going to ask her flat out."

'Stop crushing my dreams," Lyra pouted, but conceded to her brother's point.

"I didn't think a Beauxabtons professor would stoop so low," Larissa said smiling, although her tone was defensive.

"My apologies," the professor rubbed his neck sheepishly, "I was just curious."

"About what?" Larissa asked, though there was no mistaking the command lying dormant.

"About you," he confessed, before blushing slightly, "and the kids as well. There's something peculiar about you Greengrasses. I've seen the kids use wandless magic effortlessly on multiple occasions. That's nowhere near normal."

"I thought I'd taught them to be more discreet," Larissa sighed, "is that really what you wanted? Why not ask them directly?"

"Because no kid could figure that out for themselves," Leopold responds, "so that means they had to be taught. And anyone who's well informed in the higher academics knows you're a rising star in alchemy, enchantment, and arithmancy. If there was anyone who could teach them, it'd be you."

"Oh," Larissa blushed heavily at that, "I guess that makes some sort of sense. I hadn't known I'd gotten well known enough for an esteemed Beauxbatons professor to know of my work."

"I'm actually a big fan," Leopold admits, a slight look of embarrassment on his face, "I'd love to speak with you about your work sometime. Especially about the link between potions and divination. As a member of a family of seers, I'm really intrigued by the case you've made."

"You may be right," Daniel sighed, "I guess I shouldn't doubt you when it comes to romance."

"So the whore found a new target," Gloria tsked, "how unfortunate."

"I'd be happy to discuss it with you sometime," Larissa offers, "but it'd have to be sometime next year. I just found out that my mentor is on his deathbed, so my children and I are going to spend the summer making the most of the time he has left."

"My condolences," Leopold's face turned grim, "I assume that's what the late night pick up was all about."

"Yes," Larissa sighed, "my mentor didn't tell me anything until we were all together. It was a rather vexing night. Actually, now that I think about it, can you do me a favor?"

"Depends what you're asking," the man smiles, "what could you possibly need from me?"

"Can you keep an eye on my kids?" Larissa asked, meeting Leopold's gaze head on, "I don't think they're taking the news very well. They see my mentor as their grandfather, and despite their assurances, I know they're not fine. I'm sorry to trouble you, but I don't exactly know anyone who I could ask, and you've just presented yourself as an option."

"I will do my best," Leopold promises, "they're good kids. It won't take much work. In exchange, I'm going to hold you to a little chat."

"It's agreed then," Larissa held her hand out, "shall we shake on it?"

"Seems like a rather english thing to do," Leopold stretches out his hand, "but so be it."

"That may be because I'm English," Larissa laughs, and Leopold's eyes widen. Larissa bids him farewell, and heads back to her car. She couldn't help but feel that something new had just been created.

"I think there's going to be some romance," Peter, ever the romantic enthusiast, told his friends excitedly, "what do you think Moony?"

"Most definitely," Remus agrees, "I just hope it's not too invasive, mainly for Larissa's sake."

"Loosen up," Sirius slung his arm around Remus's shoulder, "you're so uptight Moony."

"I agree with Pads," James slung his arm around Peter's, "let's just enjoy the pleasant visions while we can. We all know they're going to turn nasty soon."

June 21st, 1992.

"Goodbye Jean," Layla waved goodbye to her brown haired friend, "see you in September."

"Can't wait," Jean smiled brightly, "I'll be sure to owl."

"Bye Lèon," Victor bade his farewells, "maybe we can meet each other sometime?"

"I'll owl you details," the green eyed boy promised, "good luck on your road trip. Hope everything goes well with your grandparents."

"Me too," Victor mutters under his breath, "me too Lèon."

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Adin Dupont asked Damian, "my offer still stands."

"I can't miss these last weeks with my grandparents," Damian repeated, "maybe we can go to camp next year."

"Alright," Adin gave up, "but I'll really miss you and Ellen."

"Oh lay off," Ellen Francis rolled her eyes, "you'll be fine. We'll meet up at Place Cachèe."

"I'm glad that they have friends," Larissa relaxed in her seat. She'd been so distracted with the mentor dying thing, the potential romance with the professor thing, and frankly, all the other things, that she'd almost forgotten about the kids' social lives. Luckily, the visions had tied it all up nearly for her.

"I need you to put your laundry in the machine as soon as we get home," Larissa instructed as they all settled in the car, "we need to finish packing by tonight. I've almost finished the final touches on the new car. I'll finish those up while you three repack."

"How are we going to take six of us in one small car?" Victor asks, "not to mention the luggage, sleeping arrangements, and food necessary for the trip."

"Let me guess Maman!" Layla eagerly said, "is it an undetectable expansion charm?"

"One of many spells and enchantments," Larissa answered smilingly, "but you are correct Layla."

"Then let's get this show on the road!" Damian shouted, and off started the final journey the Greengrass family would have with their grandparents/mentors.

Chapter Text

June 21st, 1992.

"I can't believe we're really doing this," Layla pressed her nose against the car window, "we're really going to meet Newt Scamander!"

"That's so cool," Lily Evans gasped, "those children are so lucky."

"So lucky," Remus Lupin agreed, "Newt Scamander is a legend. I wonder what he's like in person."

"A lot more awkward than you'd think," Euphemia Potter muttered under her breath, causing her husband to chuckle to himself. His wife wasn't lying though. Their old friend was certainly not the most adept with social situations.

"I know, right?" Damian agreed with his little sister, "who knew that Grandpa was old friends with him?"

"Now now," Larissa warned the children, "I want you all to be on your best behavior. We'l be having lunch with the Scamanders, their children, and their grandchildren. I really don't want to leave a bad impression on good friends of your grandparents."

"We understand Maman," Victor reassured his mother, "we'll be on our best behavior."

As the car touched down by a small cottage, an elderly witch and wizard came out to greet them.

"Nicholas," Newt grasped Nicholas in a hug, careful with the former's weak bones, "we've been really worried. I thought a thunderstorm might have gotten you. Not that you couldn't survive one, but then you'd be hurt. And if you were hurt, th-"

"Newt is still as sweet as ever," Fleamont smiled widely, "isn't he James?"

"Of course he is," James rolls his eyes, "Uncle Newt doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

"Prongs," Remus's voice was sickly sweet, "do you mean to tell me that you've met Newt Scamander?"

"Of course Prongs has," Sirius foolishly butt in, "Newt and Tina always visit around Yule. I've met him a couple of times too. Really great guy."

"Really Padfoot," Remus's canines seemed sharper than ever, "perhaps the three of us will have to have a lovely little chat later."

James and Sirius didn't know why, but they were suddenly dreading this conversation. Peter couldn't help but laugh at them. Remus could be terrifying when he wanted to.

"What Newt means to say," Tina Scamander gently pried the two apart, and rested her arm on Nicholas', "is that we've been eagerly awaiting you. Why don't you all come inside? It seems as if it may rain soon."

"That's a wonderful idea," Larissa swirled her car keys in the air, caught them, and then stuck them in her pocket, "come along kids. We don't want to make Mrs. Scamander wait too long."

"This must be your disciple," Tina turned her sharp eyes to Larissa, "what's your name dear?"

"Larissa," Larissa answered, "Larissa Greengrass. It's a real honor to meet the two of you."

"And who would you three be?" Newt asked the triplets, "and are you triplets?"

"We are," Damian confirmed, "I'm Damian Greengrass. My brother is Victor and my sister is Layla."

"Mom," a woman's voice was heard from inside the house, "the shakshuka is ready."

"That would be Leta," Newt, seeing their confusion, added, "my daughter."

"I can't wait to see Leta," Euphemia eagerly anticipated, "she's already grown into such a fine woman. I hope she's aged well."

"Then let's not keep dear Leta waiting," Perenelle began walking with Tina, hand on Larissa's back, guiding her forward. They all walked inside, where brunch was all set up. The Scamander's two children and five grandchildren were already seated at the table.

"Great-Auntie Perenelle," Leta Shacklebolt rushed to give the older woman a hug, "and Great-Uncle Nick. It's wonderful to see you both."

"You as well Leta," Perenelle patted the woman on the back, "how's the family doing?"

"Gregory is doing an excellent job in the ministry," the woman boasted, "and the children are schooling at Hogwarts. Yusuf is going into his fourth year and Flora is going into her second."

"How wonderful," Nicholas turns to a man who must be Newt's son, "and how are you doing Jacob?"

"I'm great," Jacob grins, "Esmerelda and I just came back from visiting Brazil with the kids. Rolf and Selena enjoyed the trip very much."

"I'm glad to hear," Nicholas replied, "have you met my student yet?"

"I haven't," Jacob shakes his head, "but I'd assume it's the lovely lady who's joined us for brunch."

"I'm glad to see both are doing well," Euphemia's heart calms, "and they even have children. That's wonderful, isn't it James?"

"Yeah," James was staring wide-eyed at the vision, "Mum, why does Leta have knives sticking out of her hair?"

Looking back at the vision, Euphemia gasped when she saw what James was talking about. Leta's dark hair was set in updo, and poking out of the bun, two sheathed daggers sat peacefully.

"I have no idea James," Euphemia struggled to find words, "maybe someone will ask?"

"I hope so," James still couldn't shake it off, "Leta's terrifying enough without them."

"That would be her," Nicholas chuckled, "meet Larissa Greengrass, the most capable witch I know. After Perenelle of course."

"You're far too kind," Larissa blushed at the praise, "I'm nowhere near reaching that level. One day, maybe I'll come close to reaching that milestone."

"Nonsense," Nicholas waved off her doubts, "you are as I say it. I wouldn't lie."

"Excuse me," Flora hesitantly asked the triplets, "but are you guys related to Daphne Greengrass? She's a schoolmate of mine."

Larissa froze in place. She had tried to reach out to her brother Stefan years ago. She had thought he'd get over his hatred, becoming a father matured him, she had hoped. He'd crushed her dreams with a violent letter filled with insults. She remembered crying herself to sleep that night, Aunt Antiope kindly watching the children for her. 

She'd tried time and time again for a year after, trying all five of her siblings. No one would budge. She'd given up soon after, her poor heart unable to handle the constant rejection. Since then, she would have Antiope keep her updated on the coming and goings of her siblings. Every time a milestone occurred, a wedding or birth for example, she'd always send an anonymous gift. She couldn't help it. 

Perenell eyed Larissa with sympathy. She was about to intervene, but Larissa managed to answer for herself.

"She would be my niece," Larissa's voice normally had a melodious undertone, beautiful as she'd eagerly discuss alchemic or spell ideas with Nicholas. Now, however, there was a steely undertone to her voice, one so different that it sent Perenelle into a slight shock. "That is if I was still on the family registry. I'm disowned, you see. All I have is the surname, as do my children."

Sirius could relate to the older girl. Disownment was a heart-tearing occurrence. He hadn't had much love for his own family, the lot of them were heartless. Walburga and Orion, he wouldn't call them his parents, were monsters who took every slight action of his as a reason to curse him. Avoid a ball by sitting in your room, stinging hex to your face. Read a muggle book, cutting curse to the leg. Refuse to call muggleborns mudblood, a slap to the face.

His grandparents weren't much better. Orion's parents, Arcturus and Melania, were never around. He would see them on rare occasions, yet they still managed to be cruel even then. He remembers Arcturus digging the family ring into his neck, a punishment for speaking back. Melania had been softer than all of them, yet even she was harsh. She would wack him with her walking stick, constantly critiquing his way of talking, walking, breathing, anything able to be critiqued, she critiqued. They didn't have much to do with him, but they were responsible for creating and educating the monster that was Orion. How they had managed to raise the saint that was Lucerita Prewett, he'd never know. 

Pollux and Irma, Walburga's dreadful parents, were far worse. Having had Andromeda, his beloved cousin, as a granddaughter, they were horrified to have another blood traitor stem from them. They would torture him whenever they met, trying to "correct" his behavior before he had run away. Even before Andy had eloped, they had always been free with their slaps and spanks, never giving him a break. They were the ones behind his parents, a pair of second cousins, marrying. They were the ones who had raised and cultivated the demoness that was Walburga.

Bellatrix and Narcissa, Walburga's nieces and his cousins, were endlessly cruel to him. Narcissa was colder, rarely bothering to speak to him at all. When she did, it was icy insults, never a kind word out of that awful mouth of hers. Yet he'd still prefer Black to the now Bellatrix Lestrange. She had never held back, hexing him when he was still only five years old. She was sadistic, hiding his books and toys, tattling on him to the adults, and gaslighting and manipulating him at every occasion. Once she'd graduated, the painful cruciatus was what he earned every time they met. She was the caster of his very first taste of the spell.

Regulus was quiet, always sucking up to Walburga and Orion. It broke his heart that he couldn't save him, but he knew that Regulus hadn't wanted it. So he left, took the disownment and cruciatus his dear mother had tossed his way. Thank Merlin for Alphard. He wouldn't have been able to be independent without the money he'd willed him. 

So yes. He could understand the pain the Greengrass girl was going through. Despite all the horrid things they did, it still ached when disownment came.

"Sorry to bring up a sore subject," Flora stuttered, feeling very embarrassed.

"No need to be embarrassed," Larissa reassured the girl, "I've made my piece with it. I'm far too good for them anyways. I'm actually rather thankful for it. Had I not been disowned, I'd never have moved to France, and had I never moved there, I would have never worked with Nicholas. All's well that ends well I guess."

"That's one way of looking at it," Gregory Shacklebolt looked admiringly at her, "you've done rather well for yourself Ms. Greengrass. I wish my baby brother could be anything like you."

"Don't dis Kingsley," Leta scolded, "he's doing awfully well for himself. Top notch auror he is. Works directly under Amelia Bones."

"That's so cool," Layla turned to Flora, "you're uncle's an auror?"

"Yeah," Flora nodded, "but Mom's cooler. She works as a diplomat, so we always get to see really cool places."

"Really?" Damian's eyes widened, "we've only been to France, and now England. Maman doesn't get out much." The last part was whispered, which caused all the adults to wonder what the children were giggling about.

"Why are you really here Nick?" Tina asks once the kids all run off to play with the nifflers and hippogriffs, "you haven't left your lab since our wedding. What's going on?"

"It seems that they're close," Rudolph mutters to himself, "perhaps the Scamander kids are the best way to get close to Flamel."

"That's foolish," Bellatrix tells her father-in-law, "the Scamanders are proud Dumbledore supporters, They'd never step ten feet near us."

"Wasn't Newt good friends with a member of the extended family?" Elladora remarked, a cold smirk on her face, "we can use that as a point to draw him in with."

"Doubt it would work," Bellatrix once again disproves one of her in-laws, "Leta Lestrange was known to hate her family. Why don't you try serving our lord, instead of trying to consolidate your own power?"

Rudolph and Elladora backed off at the mad grin Bellatrix gave them as she said this. Perhaps they shouldn't have married Rodolphus off to this mad woman?

"I've destroyed the stone," Nicholas bluntly said, watching as color left the adults. Leta immediately burst into tears, Gregory rubbing circles onto her back immediately, despite still being shocked himself. Jacob collapsed into his chair, his wife clutching onto his arm desperately. Newt and Tina took it badly, paling far beyond what should be healthy for people of their age.

"Why?" Jacob, the most composed, asked, "why in Merlin's name would you do that?"

"I won't let a dark lord rise because of my selfishness," Nicholas answered simply, "Voldemort tried stealing it, and won't stop until he gets it. It's a world security risk. Albus, Perenelle, and I discussed it, and this is the best decision we could make. I couldn't leave this world without seeing you again, so when Larissa suggested that we all should go on a road trip, I suggested we stop by."

"That's a lot to take in," Tina, slightly recovered, spoke hesitantly, "though I'm glad you came to see us. It would have hurt if you didn't."

"Stay over a little," Newt begged, "let us spend some more time with you. My grandkids barely know you. I want them to know you, even just for a few days."

"How do you feel?" Nicholas turns to Larissa in lieu of an answer, "would you feel safe?"

"No," Larissa took a shaky breath, "but I'm ready to try. I want everyone who loves you to have a satisfying end with you. If that means facing my deepest fears, then so be it."

It was decided. The Flamel and Greengrass Road Trip would be taking a minor pit stop in England.

Chapter Text

"So this is Diagon Alley," Flora Shacklebolt smiled as she guided the triplets, "Mum said that the equivalent for you would be the Place Cachèe."

"I could have assumed so," Layla laughed, "so what are we looking for?"

"Ice cream," Rolf Scamander answered for his cousin, "we need to go to Fortescue's for that."

"Let's see if it can hold up to France's ice cream," Victor grinned as they headed inside.

"I'll have one scoop of treacle tart ice cream," Flora ordered, "Yusuf will have chocolate, Rolf will have fairy ice, and Selena will have caramel. Our new friends will order for themselves."

"You know us so well Flora," Selena, Jacob Scamander's ten year old daughter, smiled, "how do you always know what we want?"

"I'm a natural born legilimens," Flora rolled her eyes, "like Great-Aunt Queenie. Did you really forget?"

"A natural born legilimens," calculating eyes rested on Flora, "it would seem we have underestimated the power of the Scamander family."

"Indeed Abraxas," Lucinda Malfoy agreed with her husband, "we must up our game. The other families are also going to be interested in the girl. We must sink our teeth into them first."

"Right," Selena blushed embarrassedly, "I did know that."

"That's an astounding ability," Damian remarked, causing Flora to flush a little, "many powerful witches and wizards struggle with the art of legilimency. It's impressive that you are able to do it from birth."

"Thank you," Flora, still a little red, replied, "now, why don't you three order? We're starting to cause traffic."

The triplets immediately chose their flavors, and Flora handed the money to Mr. Fortesque. They sat down at their table, and began to talk while they waited for their ice cream.

"Does Hogwarts really have a lake monster?" Victor asked Yusuf curiously, "and are there really ghosts flying everywhere?"

"Yes," Yusuf responds, "it really does have those things."

"Tell us more about the houses," Layla asked, a curious look in her eyes. She was rather fascinated by the entire concept. Did British wizards and witches really think that people could be labeled? The human mind is a complex thing. There was so much variety amongst people's mentalities. Did they really think there were only four possible boxes to place humans in?

"Well I guess we'll start off with the best house," Yusuf brags, "Hufflepuff. Both Grandpa Newt and Uncle Jacob were in this house, as well as myself. It stands for humility, hard work, dedication, co-operation, and unwavering trust and belief."

"Never thought I'd hear someone call those worthless Hufflepuffs the best," Elladora Lestrange scoffed, "what a complete and utter lie."

"What was that Elladora?" Melania Black's sharp eyes turned to her vassal, "would you please repeat that? This former Hufflepuff would love to hear what you had to say."

"Uhm, Hufflepuffs are truly extraordinary," Elladora blurted out anxiously, desperately trying not to anger someone as politically powerful as the Black Matriarch.

"That's what I thought," Melania clapped her hands, a wide smile that didn't reach her cold, dangerous eyes plastered on her face, "I'm glad to hear that you think so as well."

"I think you're right," Flora huffed, as if it pained her to say it, "Rolf and I are Slytherins. At surface value, we should be proud. Slytherins are supposed to stand for those who are cunning, ambitious, resourceful, and destined for greatness. Yet in our generation at least, that's nothing farther than the truth. The current Slytherins are hung up on blood purity, cruel, spiteful, brash and unrefined, as well as lacking in any sense of decorum and manners. They also fervently believe in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and many try to mimic the behaviors of both him and his followers, the death eaters. Not to mention our head of house hates children, is needlessly rude, and is a horrendous teacher. More people have failed potions than ever before."

"Sounds like an apt description," James shakes his head, "except our Slytherin is a breeding  and recruitment ground for actual death eaters, and three fifths of the house actively perform malicious, dark magic."

"It's not a reason for discrimination against them," argued Lily, "what you marauders do to them isn't okay."

"We know," a dark look crosses Sirius Black's face, "discrimination isn't okay. But some of them, a lot more than you would know, are active death eaters. I mean no offense by this Lily, but you didn't grow up in this world. You don't know the families that push certain narratives in the wizengamot, have had many terrorists come from their members. You haven't been to the balls where they brag about the muggles they killed, the half-bloods they scammed, the torture and crimes they've committed. You haven't seen the brazen ones who brag about their allegiance to Voldemort, show off their dark marks with pride. You haven't grown up with these slytherins, don't see the blackmail that they do out of school. The sons and daughters they've sold off like cattle. They need to be shown that people won't stand by, that they aren't the most powerful in the room. And if the best we can do is make their food blow up, turn their hair pink, or something else of the sort, then it's worth it."

"We know we're cruel," James smirks, and oh what a devious smirk it is, "but they deserve it. I've caught your little buddy Snape creating dark spells. He's even cast his cute little sectumsempra, continue to cut, on me. If I didn't have the brains to create a counter curse, I would have bled out. Yet you say that people like him deserve mercy? That was him last year. He did the same sort of things in first, second, and third year. Some of those kids are really twisted. Do they not deserve a taste of their own medicine?"

"You act as if we're the only ones who do things like this," Remus says, far less harsh than his friends, "people make pranks all the time. People hex and jinx others in the halls as often as we breathe. The reason we get the most flack for it is that we're smarter than the others. We're more popular, more well liked. James and Sirius are quidditch stars and good looking. They're well known, so that's why their exploits are more talked about. You've jinxed people before Lily, why are you any better?"

Lily had no answer. None of the adults had what to say to these three boys. Minerva McGonagall was shocked at the honesty coming from the three. Hearing what they had to say, she realized that, in some aspects, they weren't wrong. Their misdemeanors did get more attention because they were popular. Their pranks were more well known because they were better and used incredibly advanced magic. It wasn't because no one else was doing it, but because they were more public and prideful of it. Perhaps she'd have to stamp down on students fighting a little more.

"Sounds frustrating," Damian sympathized, "we can't complain though. Our potions teacher is pretty great. He's charismatic and charming, as well as kind and knowledgeable."

"I wonder if they'd think so highly of him when they find out he's wooing their mom," Lyra whispered to Daniel, who simply groaned at his sister's over interest in romance.

"Lucky," Flora said, "but back to the houses, the next one I should tell you about is Ravenclaw. My Mum and Dad were both in this house. It's the house of wisdom, wit, creativity, curiosity, and cleverness."

"That's the house Maman was in," Victor realized, "didn't she tell us something about a talking door?"

"That would be the entrance to the dorms," Yusuf said after thinking for a moment, "I'm pretty sure that my parents have mentioned it as well."

"So what's the last house?" Laylas asked as she licked her ice cream cone, the cones having arrived moments before.

"Gryffindor!" Selena cheered, face lighting up, "that's the one I want to go to! It has a lion as a mascot. Isn't that cool?"

"That's why she wants Gryffindor?" Arthur Weasley laughed good naturedly, "what an adorable kid."

"She'd get along with our Charlie," Molly shook her head, "that same fiery love of animals."

"It's very cool," Rolf reassured his little sister, "but do you even know what Gryffindor represents?"

"Bravery and valor!" Selena shouts, "Great-Uncle Theseus told me that! It also represents courage both in battle and against the current mindset. "It takes great bravery to make change," he says."

"He stole my quote!" Fleamont thundered, "and didn't credit me!"

"Calm down Monty," Euphemia soothed, "I'm sure he didn't mean to."

"They're so sappy," James muttered under his breath.

"I know, right?" Sirius agreed, leaning into James. The two brothers could only grimace as they saw their parents flirting.

"Fascinating," Layla mumbles, mentally categorizing the new information, "do you really think that every person can fit into these four categories? And stay that way from age eleven?"

"Sometimes I too think we sort too early," Albus sighs, "but that's how it's been done for centuries. It will never change."

"It doesn't matter to me," Yusuf shrugs, "it hasn't made a difference in my life."

"But it probably has to others," Damian says though, "labels are damaging. I'm not going to sit here and preach to you about it, it's not my place. But just think about it." Is telling someone "You're a gryffindor so you must be brave, you're a hufflepuff so you have to be kind, you're a ravenclaw so you must be smart, or you're a slytherin, you must be twisted" helpful in any way? Just food for thought."

As they spoke these words, a person sitting behind them began to silently cry. How could one foreigner, how could he not be with that accent, make him feel so much better about his sorting? The round faced blond quickly exited the store, but those words would leave a lasting impact on him. As would the boy who had said them. He would have to thank him someday.

"The boy has a way with words," Edgar Greengrass acknowledged, "perhaps the bastard could have his uses."

"Not on my watch," Larissa didn't even bother to grace the man who had raised her with a look, "my child will never be a doll for you to puppeteer. None of them will."

Edgar was fuming at the disrespect she was showing. He would have given her a piece of his mind, but a glowing chalice, a symbol of the Queen of Witches, shone above his former daughter, warning him off. He kept his mouth shut reluctantly.

"Where to next?" Victor asked as the seven of them left the ice cream store.

"We can go to the candy store," Selena pulled Victor by the arm, "you could bring some back for your friends."

"That's not a bad idea," Layla smiled, "I could have Asteria deliver some candy to Jean."

"Who's Asteria?" Yusuf asked curiously, "your owl?"

"Her terrifying pet eagle," Damian shuddered, "the amount of people that she scratched is in the double digits by now."

"Asteria's not terrifying," Layla rolled her eyes, "and at least she's not creepy like your crow."

"You have a crow?" Rolf asked, eyes wide, "can I meet your crow? I love animals."

"You can meet Finley," Damian nodded, "I left him in his cage when we got here. His wing's broken, so he can't fly. I'm sure he'd love company."

"Sounds like a plan," Rolf nodded, before calling out to someone he spotted, "oi! Nott!"

"Nott?" Druella brightened, "perhaps we'll see someone of noble blood for once."

"I do hope so," Cygnus drawled, "looking at those of filthy blood are an eyesore."

"No one has filthy blood," Gideon Prewett defended, "although you're making it harder and harder for that to be true. Your stinky attitude is abominable "

"Rolf?" Cesare Nott, firstborn of the Nott family, turned in surprise, "is that you?"

"Yeah," Rolf smiled, "triplets, Selena, meet my best friend, Cesare Nott."

"As in Theodore Nott?" Flora asked, eyes narrowing.

"Did that little brat do something stupid?" Cesare sighed, "I apologize on his behalf. The idiot is a piece of work."

"He's just annoying," Flora says, "always bugging Maggie and I alongside Malfoy."

"That darn Malfoy punk," Cesare cursed, "sorry about him. He listens to Dad's crap too often. I'll have to knock some sense into him. Anyways, who are these people Rolf?"

"A Malfoy boy," Narcissa's hopes were raised, "Lucius, could it be?"

"I think so my love," Lucius kissed Narcissa softly, "I think we've finally had a child."

"About time," Druella Black tsked, "it's been taking an awfully long time."

"No matter," Lucinda brushed Druella off, "at last, our family name will be secured."

"You know that Flora's my little cousin," Rolf ruffles Flora's hair, "and Yusuf's my older cousin. This little cutie," he pauses to pull Selena into an embrace, "is my baby sister. The other three are the Greengrass triplets. They're Grandfather is friends with my grandfather, so they're visiting for a while."

"I didn't know the Greengrasses had triplets," Cesare eyed them, "especially not ones who look like normal people. The only Greengrasses I know are the snobs who keep trying to get me to marry their oldest daughter."

"We're not on the register," Layla answered frostily, unsure of how this kid would react, "our Maman was disowned for having us out of wedlock."

"I wish I was disowned," Cesare said jealously, "then I could go live with my Aunt Amelia."

"Just perfect," Rabastan growled, "another filthy blood traitor. Why are these people such incompetent parents? They should have raised proud pureblood children."

"I couldn't agree more," Bellatrix echoes Rabastan's sentiments, "why can't they appreciate the pureness of their blood?"

"I feel you," Rolf said empathetically, "do you want to join us for the day? You seem like you've been having a rough summer."

"Please," Cesare begged, "I can't bear staying around my parents anymore. I swear I'm going to go crazy."

The formerly seven, now eight, children head to the candy store. After picking out what they want, they pay, and discuss the next step on their agenda.

"We could head to Hogsmeade," Selena suggested, "they have a nice quidditch arena where we could rent brooms and play."

"Not a bad suggestion," Yusuf agreed with his cousin, "would your parents be alright with that Cesare? I don't want to get accused of kidnapping you."

"Dad never cares where I am," Cesare shrugged, "I'm not sure he's ever known where I am ever. Theo, Jenny, and I rarely see him. We get an allowance, and are basically left to our own devices. He won't care."

"That's so sad," Fabian shook his head, "not surprised Nott is raising his kids like that. Where's the mother?"

"What about your Mum?" Flora asks tentatively, unsure if that was an appropriate question.

"She's not all the way there," Cesare says, a hint of pain in his voice, "she just stays in her room all day, never leaving. She's like a walking ghost. Suspect good old Dad's done it to her, and won't take her to Mungo's because he doesn't want to get arrested."

"That's horrible," Layla gasped, "do you know exactly what's wrong with her? My mother's an excellent spell crafter and potion maker. Maybe she knows of something to help her?"

"I'm not sure there's anything that can be done," Cesare sighs, "she almost seems as if she's trapped in the past. She always seems to think I'm still five, Theo's a toddler, and Jenny's a baby. Any time she seems to get better, and seems to realize she's stuck in the past, Dad brings her to his room, and she relapses."

"Poor lass," Alastor Moody grunted, "I'll have to investigate Nott as soon as we're out of here."

"Sounds like an effect of Wisteria's Memory," Layla suggests, "it's an old potion Maman was experimenting with to find a cure. I'll ask her if she ever did, and send my owl with information if she did."

"Thank you," Cesare's eyes widened with hope, "that's more hope than anyone has given me in three years."

"Enough of the gloom and doom," Victor groans, "let's go play quidditch." 

The kids all laugh, and head off to Hogsmeade to play. This day was only one of the days of the epic vacation that the Greengrass kids would go on, but the events it set into motion would have lasting effects. 

Chapter Text

The visions show the Flamels and Greengrass traveling across Europe. They went to Spain, Romania, Russia, Bulgaria, Italy, and Turkey. They met with many of Nicholas' old acquaintances, ones who were very upset to hear of the elderly alchemist's impending death.

August 12th, 1992.

"Smile Granny," Layla took a picture with her grandmother, the two of them sitting on the couch, the trip having ended a few days before.

"I'll always smile for you," Perenelle smiled at her granddaughter indulgently, "come sit and hear stories."

"Perenelle seems to love being a grandma," Albus smiled gently, pleased to see that his dear friends were being taken care of in their final days. He'd never expected to have to say goodbye to Ncholas one day, but it would seem that the future held many surprises.

"...and that's how you would make lapis lazuli," Nicholas is seen explaining to an intrigued Victor. The dark haired boy sat beside his grandfather, drinking in every word of wisdom he could. Not everyone got the chance to learn directly under Nicholas Flamel.

Larissa herself was sitting, Damian cuddled beside her, writing a note inside a book. A book titled Alchemy at Its Finest . Larissa was preparing to send one of the first copies of her soon to hit the stores book to Diane Serline. True to her word, the cute redhead had kept an eye out for her children during the school year. With the inevitable death of their grandparents, Larissa hoped Diane would continue to be a pillar of hope and guidance for her babies.

Larissa glanced at the old grandfather clock. It was 10:30. Truthfully, the children should have been in bed an hour and a half ago, but Larissa couldn't bear to tear them away from their grandparents. They had such a short time left, that Larissa hated to waste a minute of it.

"Time for bed," she rose from the couch carefully, a sleeping Damian floating beside her, "it's getting late. We'll need our strength."

"Yes Maman," the children dutifully stood, and began to head to the bedroom that they shared. In order to not waste the precious moments they had left, the Greengrasses had temporarily moved into the Flamel's home.

"I'll come help you two to bed," Larissa reassured her mentors, "I just need to get this sleepyhead into bed."

"No need to worry Larissa," Perenelle smiled softly, "we're patient."

"Bonne nuit," Larissa wished the triplets good night, "fais de beaux rêves." 

"What did she say at the end?" a confused Mary McDonald hesitantly asked.

"Sweet dreams," Sirius replied casually, shocking all his classmates, "why is everyone staring at me?"

"Since when could you speak French?" Lily asked, barely believing the lazy and mischievous Sirius Black could have any real skills.

"All members of the Noble House of Black must learn Latin, Italian, and French," an insulted Regulus responds in lieu of Sirius, "how dare a mudblood like you assume that a, albeit former, member of the House of Black would be uneducated?"

"Do not speak like that!" Minerva McGonagall harshly scolded her student, "when we return to school, you will serve two weeks worth of detention."

"It seems standards have really fallen at Hogwarts," Lucius complained to his wife, "wouldn't you agree dear?"

"Wholeheartedly," Narcissa said, maintaining her composure, "what a fall from grace we've had to witness."

"Let's head to bed," Larissa supported the weight of the couple, assisting them up to their quarters. Raising her eyebrow, the pair were magically changed into pajamas, and their pillows were fluffed. Larissa guided them to their bed, and as she was about to leave, Nicholas called out to her.

"Thank you Larissa," his eyes were teary, as if he'd been holding his emotions at bay for a while, "for everything. For assisting us these twelve years, for caring for us, for introducing us to our beloved grandchildren, for being my protègè, and for taking us to see our friends."

"There's no need for thanks," Larissa herself began getting emotional, turning to face the couple again, "you took me in in my worst hours. You filled a place in my children's life that they would otherwise have lacked. You taught me to be strong. I can only thank you for all of it."

"Live well, precious child," Perenelle smiled amidst tears, "we love you. All of you."

"As do we," Larissa sobbed, the dam breaking, "we love you too Perenelle. And you too Nicholas. We'll miss you."

The door closed behind her, and hours later, in the depth of the night, the Flamel couple closed their eyes for the final time.

"May they rest in peace," Elena wiped a tear from her eye, "they did a lot for this world."

"Indeed," a solemn Albus Dumbledore agreed, "but for ones as old as them, with minds well-organized, death is but the next great adventure."

August 15th, 1992.

"I can't believe they're really gone," Layla clung to her mother's skirts, "they felt so invincible."

"I know," Larissa repeated for the tenth time that night, "I can't really believe it either."

The funeral was a big deal. For all their reclusiveness,  the Flamels had been central figures in the wizarding community for many years. There were many, many people who had come to pay their respects.

"Ms. Greengrass?" Madam Maxime seemed surprised to see her there, let alone the children.

"Hello Madam," Larissa had no energy left. She had spent it all crying and arranging this funeral alongside some kind folk at the ministry. Nicholas and Perenelle's wills were going to be read at the event, which Larissa had vehemently protested, saying it was a disrespect to the dead.  The ministry said it was the only safe way to get the word out, so Larissa had reluctantly allowed it.

"What brings you here?" Madam Maixime asked, trying to finagle whatever connection Larissa had to be invited to this exclusive event.

Larissa was saved from having to answer, when the Minister called for everyone to take their seats. The couple's caskets would be passing through, and they would all pay their respects. There were a few speeches planned, one from Albus Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, the Minister, the Supreme Mugwump, and Newt Scamander respectively. Then the will would be read, and people would be able to approach the caskets and pay their respects, before the pair was laid to rest. Due to Larissa's insistence, the press was forbidden from attending, and Larissa had taken great care to ensure it. No hidden cameras, enchanted animals, animagi, polyjuicers, metamorphmagi, or other unsolicited guests would be able to pass through.

"So many important people," Fabian Prewett whispered to his twin, "it's fascinating to see what kind of impact one very old man could make."

"I understand," Gideon whispered back, "it takes a really great person to have this many people show up at your funeral."

The triplets could hardly focus on the speeches. Their grief was immeasurable, and Larissa was unsure that they'd be ready for a year of boarding school. 

"It's time for the will reading Maman," Damian gently tapped her, his glasses marred by water and eyelashes from crying. Her sunny haired boy clutched her hand tightly, as her daughter and dark haired son leaned into the arm she had used to pull them close to her.

Larissa paid apt attention to the reader of the will. If the couple had left anything for their grandchildren, she must know.

"...after the aforementioned items are given to the listed recipients," the reader read off the paper, a look of shock on his face, "all the rest of my estate is to be left to my grandchildren, Damian Ares Greengrass, Victor Ambrose Greengrass, and Layla Odette Greengrass. Their fortune is to be kept in a trust overseen by my protègè, Larissa Delancy Greengrass, the mother of my grandchildren. To my lovely grandchildren, always remember that Grandpa loved you dearly. I hope in my heart that you have forgiven me for leaving. And to my protègè, please strive to finish what I have left behind, and build a new, happy life without me. Also,  should you choose, the Flamel name is yours to take. It's the least I can do. With this, I conclude my last will and testament."

"He left everything to them," Albus's eyes widened considerably, "the value of his notes and equipment are immeasurable. She's become a rich woman in seconds."

"Why does that whore get all of that?" Gloria grumbled to her parents, the target of the insult blissfully unaware.

"I can't believe this," Stefan tsked, "a man of dignity giving his name to a woman who had a child from wedlock. Disgraceful."

Silas Greengrass sat quietly, no outward reaction to the news. He couldn't help but feel they were unnecessarily cruel. Larissa having a child is none of their business. Why did it warrant this sudden turn of hate? What was this "whore" Gloria kept speaking about? Silas must ask one of his siblings later. He'd been too embarrassed to do it earlier, but he felt ridiculous not knowing. Better seconds of embarrassment then hours of struggle.

"We need that girl," Rudolph eyed the vision version of Larissa hungrily, "she could change everything."

"I don't see what's so great about her," Rabastan rolled his eyes, "this version of her will probably never meet Nicolas Flamel, as the future will be changed. Why bother?"

Rudolph couldn't help but groan at his dense son. How could he not see the strategic benefits of an alliance with her?

Eyes searched around the audience to find the people the will listed as almost the sole inheritors of the Flamel legacy. They Greengrasses were easily spotted, Larissa having turned incredibly pale, and standing in shock.

The rest of the funeral was a blur. Everyone kept trying to approach them after both  wills were finished being read, and it was all Larissa could do to get them to leave her and the children alone. They just needed to grieve and pay their respects in peace. Why were these vultures harassing them?

"Leave the girl alone," a strong voice commanded. Tina Scamander had come to the rescue, the crowd of diplomats and friends clearly scared of the woman with a fearsome reputation, gained from her role in the Grindelwald War.

"Thank you," Larissa breathed in relief, trying to keep her anxiety from bursting from her chest, "thank you for coming Tina."

"No problem dear," Tina laid a wrinkled hand on her arm, "should you ever need anything, let us know. We would love to help you."

"I appreciate the offer," Larissa offered a shaky grin, "as nice as it is to see you, I really think the kids and I should head back. There's going to be a lot of legal matters to take care of, and I need to prepare for the mental strain of it."

"Of course," Tina gasped, "how could I have kept you here? Go along. Get you and the kids to bed."

"Have a good night," Larissa gave valedictions as she left with the children.

"Loss of a loved one is always difficult," Oscar Prewett shook his head mournfully, "I do not envy anyone who has to go through it."

September 2nd, 1992.

"Remember that I love you," Larissa kissed her children's foreheads once more, "and don't hesitate to owl for anything."

"We know Maman," Damian attempted to pull away from his mother's ironclad grasp, "but would you mind gripping a little looser?"

"Sorry," Larissa sheepishly apologized, "have a good year. I'll see you by the next break."

As the children ran off, a familiar blond approached her.

"How are you doing Ms. Greengrass?" the blond asked, a look of empathy on his face, "I heard that your mentor has passed. How are you handling things?"

"I'm doing alright," Larissa replied, a certain heaviness dripping into her voice. It only came out on occasion, as she didn't want to startle the children by breaking down completely. Her therapist had suggested she be emotionally vulnerable and aware with them, but sometimes she felt that she couldn't. It was hard to let your children see you hurt.

"I just thought I'd show you something," Leopold Arquette gestured for her to follow, "I hope it can help you with your grief."

Interest piqued, Larissa followed the man to a fountain. Larissa recognized it as the Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel fountain, a fountain rumored to have beautifying and healing effects. It was created in honor of Nicholas, who had made a major donation to the school. Now, there was a beautiful statue in the middle, a younger version of Nicholas and Perenelle, just as they were when they met in the halls of Beauxbatons.

"It's a beautiful tribute to them," French Druella Black praised, despite her pureblood entitlement, she was a magical French. Every magical French, every one of them, had respect for the Flamels. It was part of their culture.

"I hate to agree with her," Lyra Delancey scrunched her nose, "but she's right, It's a wonderful memorial to two outstanding individuals."

Tears pricked at her eyes when she saw the statue. Nicholas was pulling on the young Perenelle's arm, the two giggling merrily as they ran. As it was a magical statue, it was able to move, and it switched into a version of the two dancing at their wedding, the two as they fought in an old war, and finally, the two as elders, peacefully content with each other. It made dormant feelings bubble up, and Larissa couldn't help but let out a slight cry. 

"Thank you," she whispered to the man, "it means a lot that you showed me this. Who arranged it?"

"The board had it made," the man admitted, before blushingly saying, "and I was the one to carve it. I have a flair for such things."

"I would have never guessed," Larissa, surprised, turns to the man, "truly?"

"I'm a man of many talents," Leopold bragged, "carving is just one of them."

"Well you'll have to tell me more of them on our date," Larissa, smiling for the first time since her mentors' deaths, "when should that be?"

Daniel didn't even have to turn to know his sister was poking her tongue out at him. He maturely ignored her romance-obsessed self.

"You remembered," Leopold notes, turning even redder than before, "I'll send an owl."

"You do that," Larissa turned to head to her car, "I'll be waiting."

Leoplold Arquette stood stunned, watching as the dark haired beauty walked back to her car. He smiled, before heading back into the school. He had students to welcome back after all.

Chapter Text

October 8th, 1992.

"Are you alright?" Adin Dupont asked Damian gently, "You seem a little lost?" The two were sitting in Madam Patricia Hoffman's herbology class. Their teacher from Luxembourg was a tad eccentric, and would often go off on tangents unrelated to herbology. It was during one of those moments that the two boys got to talking.

"I was just thinking about my grandfather," Damian answered, smiling at his friend, "I promise I'm alright. We're still going to quidditch tryouts, right?"

"Of course," Ellen Francis said from the desk behind them, "we have to go try out. I have a feeling we could even make the reserves."

"They won't let a bastard like you on the team," Ellen Lamor snidely commented from the desk next to Ellen Francis, "they have dignity after all."

"Why don't you save yours by shutting up?" Adin bravely came to Damian's defense. The blond silently thanked his friend. He didn't have the energy to argue with a talentless girl at this hour of the morning."

"I'm glad he has good friends," Clarene Delancey breathed a sigh of relief for her cousin's child.

"Keeper's position over here!" a burly older student called as Adin and Damian headed to the tryouts.

"You're going for keeper, right?" Adin asked Damian, "so go on over."

"Keeper?" James, ever the quidditch enthusiast, frowned, "he seems better suited to a beater."

"Maybe he likes the idea of defense better," Sirius suggested, "not everyone is interested in the thrill of smacking a ball with a heavy bat."

"Touchè," James laughed with Sirius, "I think you might be the one who enjoys it the most. At least at Hogwarts."

"It's undeniable," Marlene shrugged, "he's vicious with a bat."

"Hey," Sirius whined, "I'm not vicious."

"You are," Peter bluntly said, causing Sirius to cry into James' shoulder, "stop the dramatic Pads."

"You're so mean Wormy," Sirius wailed, but calmed down moments later, still in James' shoulder. 

"We'll meet up after," Damian promised as the two parted, "good luck getting chaser."

"He definitely fits the chaser build," James clicks his tongue, "lean, fit, quick, and eager. He'll do well."

"Look at you Prongs," Remus teased, "being all clever and that. Seems being quidditch captain has sharpened your skills."

"Lay off Moony," James huffed, "Siri, you're digging into my shoulder. Do it less hard please."

"Sorry Jimmy Jam," Sirius apologized, and lessened the weight he was placing on James.

"No problem," James smiled at his brother, he could get used to this. Sirius has never been this touchy before. Leaving the Blacks has softened his edges and walls into putty.

"Ten laps around the field," the captain, Frank George, barked at the recruits, "fastest ten move on."

Damian mounted his broom swiftly. He noticed his second best. friend, Ellen Francis, trying out for chaser alongside Adin. He always marveled that he managed to make such good friends. It had never been an option at any of their old schools. He pushed everything out of his mind, as he pressed his broom forward. His broom was homemade, his mother enchanting it for his eighth birthday. Victor and Layla had gotten similar ones the next year, but Damian had asked his mother for a broom specifically. He was always drawn to the air, even from a young age. His mother tells him his first bout of accidental magic was flying. He had soared almost to the ceiling before his frantic mother caught him, and spelled him down. 

"That was an incredible speed," Frank applauded Damian as he crossed the line for the tenth time, "you practice a lot?"

"Since I was eight," Damian answered, breathless from the energy it had taken to guide his broom forward.

"That kind of speed is almost unprecedented," Frank's admiring eyes set on Damian's broom, "what model is that?"

"There's no model actually," Damian blushed, embarrassed to be caught, "my Maman made and enchanted it herself."

"That's so cool," James turned his starry eyes to Larissa, "could you make me one?"

"I don't know how," Larissa answered quietly, "sorry."

"It's alright," James brushed it off, "I sort of forgot that that's you in the future. My bad."

"Herself?" Frank wanted to say something, but the image of a woman being projected in the hall the year before made him change his mind, "how?"

"I don't know," Damian shrugged, "I asked for a broom for my eighth birthday, and this is what she gave me. I've taken excellent care of it, and it's lasted me well."

"Could I have Monsieur Dupont take a look at it?" Frank practically begged Damian, "I think your mother has made something revolutionary."

"Again?" Damian couldn't help but groan, "why does all my stuff get confiscated for evaluation?"

"What do you mean by that?" Frank asked, curious as to what the boy could have meant.

"Monsieur Sallo confiscated my wand holster last year," Damian informed Frank, "said it was an "absolutely astonishing and incredible piece of magic that the whole world deserves to benefit from". It was just one of Maman's spare experimental holsters. She said I can't have one of her real ones until I learn how to duel properly."

"You don't understand how incredibly lucky you are," Frank shook his head, "most people don't see things as advanced as the things your mother seemingly makes in their entire lives. Yet you complain that people are fascinated. It's funny."

"He looks so done with Damian," Guenivive giggles, "I'd be frustrated too."

"Whatever," Damian sighed, "but yes, you can take my broom to Monsieur Dupont."

October 17th, 1992.

"Bonjour Ms. Greengrass," Leopold greets Larissa as he takes a seat at the muggle cafe they were meeting at, "how has your morning gone?"

"Rather well," Larissa responds, setting down the notepad of calculations she was working on, "yours?"

"Nerve racking," Leopold confessed, "it's hard to get out of the school without students asking why I'm dressed well on Samedi. Or Saturday for your English self."

"Students are really that curious?" Larissa asks, "or that bold?"

"You couldn't begin to imagine," Leopold sighed dramatically, "I have female students coming to my classroom with entire charts full of siblings, aunts, and cousins to recommend. They are really interested in my love life. They've tried setting me and the astronomy teacher, dear Lucinda Faye, up multiple times. Little do they know that she's very happily seeing a fellow astronomer from Belgium."

"Reminds me of a teacher of my own," Larissa smiles at the memory, "her name was Professor Esther Shafiq. Everyone tried setting her up with another teacher, Professor Derric Beger. It actually worked, but landed in the poor professor getting disowned by her parents. He was a muggleborn you see, and she was from an old pureblood family."

"I remember her," Narcissa tsked, "she married that filthy mudblood, ruining her family's plans of setting her up with Corban Yaxley. It caused quite the scandal. I'm unsure if poor Corban ever recovered from her betrayal."

"Oh he's far over her," Lucius grinned maniacally, "he's already found a new lady. Laticia Nott. They're due to be married next month. We got the invitation earlier. I hadn't gotten to mentioning it before all this happened."

"How wonderful," Narcissa's mood instantly improved, "I worried he would never marry. Good thing that rotten woman hasn't ruined everything for him."

"Didn't the two never meet?" Gideon asked his sister, confused, "why is Malfoy making it out to be some whole love story?"

"You know the Malfoys are pathetic," Molly replied, "they'll spin anything anyway to make it seem as if the person who escapes the pureblood mentality is the villain."

"Do things like that really happen?" Leopold asked curiously, "disownment that is. I've heard the horror stories, but never quite understood how the whole pureblood doctrine worked."

"It's very real," Larissa answers, "and it can destroy people's lives. I myself was disowned many years ago. That's why I moved to France. My Aunt Antiope was the only one willing to take me in. Death eaters were hunting me down for being a "filthy blood traitor whore" and chased me around the country. I barely made it out alive."

"Really?" Leopold's eyes widened, "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"I'm not mad anymore," Larissa turned her eyes to the sky, "my life now is infinitely better than it would have been there. At home, my parents would have married me off to some guy I'd probably never met, and then I'd be a baby machine for the rest of my life. It's what they did to my younger sister Gloria. She married a guy at twenty four, and she already has four kids. She's twenty eight now. I sent wedding gifts and baby presents. I had to do it anonymously. They'd burn anything with my name on it."

"Your current happiness doesn't make it right," Leopold pointed out, concerned for the woman.

"It wasn't right," Larissa agreed, "I'd been raped, and my parents reaction was to moan the fact that they couldn't marry me off and then subsequently disown me. They told active death eaters where I was, and my older brother personally led one of the teams responsible for hunting people like me down. Yet, all the same, I'm happy to be away from them. I hadn't realized how toxic their beliefs and attitudes were until I was forced out. I would have believed muggleborns and half bloods were scum for the rest of my life. I would have never met my dear mentor Nicholas. I love the way my life turned out, even if I don't love everything that happened in it."

Silence filled the room. The elephant in the room had just been confirmed. Larissa Greengrass wasn't a prostitute or whore. She was an unfortunate girl who had been taken advantage of by someone stronger than her, and left to suffer. 

"Purebloods can't get assaulted," Andrea stubbornly stuck to her foolish beliefs, "the girl is lying."

"I agree," Edgar shakily agreed, refusing to acknowledge his wrongs. His daughter couldn't get raped. He was too important and powerful. 

"Poor girl," Lily's voice quivered as she clutched onto Marlene, "she didn't deserve that."

"No one does," Marlene responds, "not even the nastiest death eater. It's one of the foulest things someone could do."

"I'm glad you've learnt to cope so well," Leopold's face hardened, "and I hope whoever hurt you rots in hell."

"Worse," Larissa agrees, "now, let's discuss the potion you owled me about. Where you were going wrong..."

The two pour over documents, the date going incredibly well. Date after Date pass by, and the two begin to meet almost twice a week. The students notice, and begin making bets as to who he was seeing. The woman's children were blissfully unaware that their teacher was seeing their mother. It wouldn't last much longer though.

Chapter Text

November 8th, 1992.

"Happy birthday," Monsieur Leopold wished Victor as he left the potion classroom, "it's not everyday you turn thirteen."

"Thank you Monsieur Leopold," Victor lowered his head in thanks, "have an excellent rest of your day."

"You as well," Leopold waved Victor off, and the dark haired boy began to head to History. The class was taught by Monsieur Derric Glick, a man Victor had grown to despise. He made it perfectly clear that he didn't like Victor, and Victor was all too willing to do the same.

"Vic!" Lèon, Victor's best friend, called, "what did the teacher need from you?"

"Just wished me a happy birthday," Victor responded, "let's get to history. Glick will take any opportunity to give us infractions."

"His only redeeming quality is he's a good teacher," Lèon sighed, "let's go."

Layla is seen sitting in the hall, a somber look on her face. Jean was rattling off beside her, but her words were going in one ear and out the other.

"Hey Layla," a classmate, Anita Solas, "isn't that your eagle?"

Indeed, Asteria was tearing through the hall, wings flapping harshly in order to reach Layla quicker.

"It still amazes me every time," Remus shook his head, "how can an eagle be tamed like that?"

"Beats me," Peter shrugged, "is it really that cool?"

"Fair enough Pete," Remus sighed, "I guess I'll just have to get used to it."

"Is that from your mother?" Jean glanced over at the package that Asteria had delivered, "it would make sense timing wise."

"No," Layla smiled slightly, "I sent Asteria overseas to do something for me a while ago. She's only just returned. I'll have to look these over and send them to Maman."

"What are they?" Jean peeked into the box, "they seem to be potions."

"Close," Layla held them up to the light, "it's a drink that my friend's mother drinks. I'm sending it to my mother for analysis. I suspected it's poisoned."

"She's keeping her word," Elena Prewett smiled, "wonderful. Perhaps Mrs. Nott can still be saved."

"What?" Jean's jaw dropped, "why do you have poison?"

"I don't have poison," Layla sighed, she really didn't hear a word she'd just said, "my friend described a sickness his mother had, and I suspected it was a result of a certain poison. So I told him to send me a sample of what she's drinking and eating, so my mother can analyze it and, perhaps, make a cure."

"Oh," Jean seemed to finally grasp what Layla had meant, "I hope his mother gets better."

"Me too," Layla looks over the samples once more, before reattaching the package to Asteria's legs, "bring this to Maman please."

"How's my lovely baby sister doing?" Damian appeared behind her, beginning to massage her shoulders.

"I'm fine Damian," Layla smiled, "happy birthday big brother."

"Happy birthday little sister," Damian pressed a kiss to his sister's forehead, "may the rest of your days be as wonderful as today."

"May you shine like gold for eternity," Layla wished back, confusing the people around her.

"May you two live out your days gracefully," Victor suddenly appeared, wishing another strange wish.

"It must be a tradition of sorts," Regulus muttered to himself, "like how Sirius and I would write poetry for each other's birthdays. Why did he have to go to the other side? Why did he have to be a blood traitor?"

"Vic," Layla stood from her seat, and hugged her brother, "how was Arithmancy?"

"Alright," Victor reassured his sister, "Monsieur Alfonso is as eloquent as always. His class is easy to understand, so there are no problems there."

"Good," Layla smiled, and was going to say something, before their mother's owl reached them.

"I wonder what she did this time," Damian gently tore the package off the bird's leg, and fed it a piece of bread, "let's open it outside the hall. I don't want a repeat of last year."

"Good idea," Victor grabbed Layla's hand, "let's go to Grandpa and Granny's fountain."

The three children race out of the hall, and find themself standing in front of their grandparents' statue. After paying their respects, they open the package Larissa had sent.

"She's very kind as a mother," Sirius compliments, "sending presents every birthday. I never received anything growing up. I'm glad she's a good parent. There should be more of those in this world."

"Dearest children," Layla read Larissa's letter aloud, "I wish you a happy thirteenth birthday each. It pains me that I can't be there with you, squeezing you all into an embrace and lighting your birthday candles. However, I hope that you enjoy your birthday with your friends, and I'll be seeing you by winter break. I have a lot of fun things planned, and Aunt Antiope has already sent the Yule party invites. I'll send the catalogs, and you'll pick what you want to wear. May all of you grow to be brave and just children, and live in a state of happiness and love. Love, Maman. P.s. I've enclosed your birthday gifts, please take care."

The three begin unpacking their gifts. Larissa had sent warm sweaters, candies, and baked goods. Their real presents, however, were wrapped in blue, green, and purple respectively. Each of their names was neatly written, and they got to opening them.

Damian received custom quidditch gear. Larissa had painstakingly crafted the armor to protect him from bruising, and the gloves had heavy protection charms. Additionally, he received a pen that would never run out of ink. The triplets had long discarded the quills their friends used. Pens were far more efficient.

Layla received a new violin. Her old one was worn out, so Larissa had purchased and enchanted a new one for her. More durable, more refined, and more powerful, Larissa had managed to create a musical instrument that, if played with certain intent, could put people to sleep. It normally let out a calming effect, but if Layla felt the need, she could recite an incantation, and the violin's music would put its listeners, minus the player, to sleep.

Victor received something different. He received a chess set. Each piece was individually carved, and a note his mother left on top said that with three taps to the corner of the board, the game would shift. His mother had written she'd spelled four games into it, and Victor was eager to play with his friends. 

"She personalized their gifts," Molly took notes, "I should note that down. You too Arthur."

"Of course Molly," Arthur squeezed her hand, "I'll be sure to remember."

December 21st, 1992.

"Maman!" Layla rushed into her mother's arms, anxious to receive her mother's love.

"My Layla," Larissa hugged her daughter tightly, "my baby girl."

"Maman," Victor kissed his mother on the cheek, "it's nice to see you again."

"You're growing so tall Victor," Larissa ruffled his hair fondly, "you're going to surpass my height soon. Where's Damian?"

"I think he misplaced his glasses," Layla says offhandedly, "Ellen and Adin were helping him look for them last time I saw him."

"Ah," Larissa lip twitches in amusement, "let's get your stuff packed in the car. I'm sure he'll get here soon."

Larissa smiles at the vision on the wall. Why did she feel so happy to see herself like that? She was going against everything she was supposed to do in her life? How was she so happy and content?

"Sorry Maman," a breathless Damian arrives, glasses firmly planted on his face, "I had to find my glasses."

"You wouldn't believe where he left them," Ellen Francis eagerly added, "he left them on the quidditch field. We didn't even find them, Frank George heard we were looking for them and brought them to us."

"That's our Damian," Larissa shook her head fondly, "you must be Ellen Francis, and the boy next to you must be Adin Dupont. I've heard a lot about you from Damian."

"Nice to meet you Ms. Greengrass," Ellen greeted, "Damian's told us a lot about you. He's a big mommy's boy."

"I have the best mother," Damian said, kissing Larissa's cheek, "how could I not be?"

"He's proud," Lily cooed, "that's adorable."

"They have an ideal relationship with their parents," Marlene commented, "I'm sort of jealous."

"Same Marlene," Sirius fist-bumped his trauma buddy, "they're a lucky bunch."

"Regardless, it's nice to meet you Ms. Greengrass," Adin waves goodbye to Damian, "see you after vacation Damian. Owl us if you can."

"Sure will," Damian swore, and entered the car, Larissa steps behind him.

"They seem kind," Larissa remarks as they begin to drive, "no surprise though. It's hard to hang out with you and not be kind."

"Maman," Damian whines, blushing at his mother's tease, "that's cheesy."

"Cheesy it might be," Larissa responds, "but a lie it is not."

December 23rd, 1992.

"You're getting so tall," Clarene Borier-Delancy pinched Damian's cheeks, "you're growing too fast."

"Man I look good," Clarene fanned herself, "I'd be almost forty then, right?"

"Thirty nine to be precise," Antiope told her daughter, "though you aged incredibly well."

"Thanks Maman," Clarene beamed at her mother, "I'm sure you have too. I mean we've already seen the future you, but a year can change everything."

"I agree," Austin Borier pulled his wife closer by the waist, "our Estelle too. Puberty is a really scary thing."

"Don't bully the poor thing," Freeda Delancy, Daniel Delancy's wife, scolded, "Merry Yule Damian."

"Merry Yule Aunt Freeda," Damian greeted back. He was dressed in royal blues and purples, with gold accents. His mother always dressed them in the finest for Yule. It was an important occasion. 

"Arden has been waiting to see you," Freeda pointed to a two year old sitting on a chair not far away, "he's missed you."

"Merry Yule everyone," Damian quickly shouts, rushing to go see his baby cousin."

"Why is your kid his favorite?" Lyra Monet moaned, "Fleur's just as cute."

"Arden's just even cuter," Daniel bragged to his older sister, "anyone can see it."

The two youngest Delancy siblings began engaging in their usual rivalry. Their respective spouses, Marius Monet and Freed Delancy née Blanchet, simply sighed. Their lovers would never grow up.

"You two really haven't stopped arguing," Leanne Greengrass laughed at her cousins, "some things never change."

"Shut up Leanne," Lyra embarrassedly deflected. She didn't want to admit her younger cousin was right.

"Merry Yule family," Serena Beaumont greeted as she walked in on her husband Connor's arm, "the Beaumonts are in the house."

"Florentia!" seven year old Damian Monet rushed for his older cousin, grabbing the eight year old's hand, "come see what Izzy brought."

"I'm coming silly," Florentia giggled, "Lucas is coming too."

"And me," four year old Percival Monet cutely interjected, "I want to come with Renti and Luke."

"Run off and play," Serena told her kids, "Maman and Papa are going to gossip and trash talk with the adults."

"As brutally honest as ever," Edmund chuckled, "and it seems Rena is married. She didn't show up the last time. Nice to see."

"So," Lyra Monet smirks at Larissa, "I hear from Maman that you're seeing someone. Care to share?"

"We're in the beginning stages of building a relationship," Larissa doesn't rise to the bait, "I'll introduce you guys sometime."

"So you actually are dating someone," Ansel Cartier breaks out into a wide grin, "that's great Larissa." Ansel wraps Larissa into a big hug, crushing her ribs.

"I appreciate the love Ansel," Larissa struggles from within his embrace, "but do you mind letting me go? You're crushing my windpipe."

"Sorry," Ansel quickly apologizes, looking her over for injuries, "I was just so happy for you."

"He's not the only one," Ajax Abello-Delancy pipes up, "we're all thrilled for you Larissa."

"They're supportive," Marlene's eyes widened, "is this normal sibling behavior?"

"Yes?" Mary hesitantly answered, "are you alright Leny?"

"Just thinking how to get adopted by normal people," Marlene swiftly answered, "but fine otherwise."

"When are you going to tell the kids?" Guenevive Abello-Delancy asks hesitantly, "are you going to?"

"We've agreed to tell them soon," Larissa says, a little unsure, "I think we'll tell them by the New Year's firework show. He's agreed to meet me by Place de la Concorde, so we'll tell them then. I'm not sure how they'll take it to be honest. He's one of their teachers, so it'll probably be awkward for a bit."

"You're dating one of their teachers?" Lyra got extremely invested, "that's adorable."

"Just let us know if we have to speak with this guy," Ansel cracked his knuckles, and some of the others did the same, "I've been to prison once, I'm not afraid to go again."

"Lillian married a criminal?!" every single person who knew Lillian shouted, scaring the other people in the room.

Lillian Delancey was a headstrong witch who knew exactly what she wanted. She had made it very clear that she wanted to marry a gentleman, a guy who'd bring her flowers, cook her breakfast in bed, go on romantic dates, the whole spiel. She wanted someone who valued justice and life like her. For her to marry a criminal was  a complete personality change.

"Stop with that horrible joke," Lillian Delancy nudged her husband, "we all know you were a prison guard. Stop making it as if you were a common criminal."

"Oh," the ones who shouted sheepishly said. Lillian herself was bright red, embarrassed at the whole ordeal.

"Fine," Ansel smirked, "only because you asked." The two began kissing, which caused Lillian's siblings to shout at them to get a room. The pair stopped, and Lillian quickly jinxed the morons who had dared to interrupt her time with her husband. For years after, the incident was called the Snogger's Rage.

Meanwhile, Layla was catching up with Isaac Borier-Delancy, who had finally healed enough to leave bed. He'd be able to go to Beauxbatons the next year, albeit in the year younger than his normal age group.

Victor was talking with Boaz and Izzy Cartier about the former's first year at Beauxbatons. They were talking specifically about how well Damian had done when he had replaced the keeper on the Blue team during a vital moment in the game.

In Beauxbatons, the students could apply to four teams. The Blue team, currently led by Frank George, the Silver team, currently led by Fredrick Hoffman, the Lilac team, currently led by Allistor Dubois, or the Gold team, currently led by Alexander Babin.

"You won't believe what I just heard," Estelle Borier-Delancy rushed over to Victor, interrupting his discussion."

"What do you need?" he asked, voice strained, "I was talking quidditch."

"Yeah," James pouts, "and I was enjoying it. Let him finish."

"You fanatic,"Euphemia sighed fondly, "only my James."

"You want to hear this," Estelle's eyes were glimmering, "I just heard the adults talking, and they said that your mother is dating someone. Specifically, one of the teachers."

Victor's eyes widen, and all other discussion falls out of his mind. The truth has been found out.

Chapter Text

"I wonder how that's going to go," Peter Pettigrew wondered. His own parents were divorced, and when his mother remarried, he remembered the awkwardness of the whole adjustment. He wondered how these kids would handle it.

"Did you hear what Estelle said?" Victor rushed over to Layla, "she says Maman is dating one of the teachers."

"What?" Layla immediately ends her conversation with Isaac, who groans at the chaos his older sister had caused, "we need to tell Damian."

"Let's go," Victor grabbed his sister's arm, "Sorry for stealing Layla, Isaac."

"No problem," Isaac shook his head, before turning to his sister, "did you really have to create chaos?"

"It was getting boring," Estelle tried to justify, but pouted when her little brother wouldn't stop glaring, "why are you so mean Isaac? Let me have my fun."

"She is acting so much like Austin it's not normal," Clarene complained, "where's the me in her?"

"Damian!" The two siblings interrupt Damian's conversation with little Damian Delancy, "you have to hear this."

"What is it?" Damian asked, readjusting baby Arden in his arms, "I was just about to help Damian hold Arden. Can it wait?"

"Estelle says Maman is dating one of the teachers," Layla blurts out, but is surprised when Damian's expression doesn't change, "how are you so calm?"

"It's Maman's choice to do whatever she wants," Damian began to help the younger Damian hold his little brother, "we don't get to judge, get upset, or get involved. When Maman is ready to talk to us about it, she will. For now, we need to pretend we don't know."

"What a mature boy," Fleamont Potter praised, "far more mature than our James. Isn't that right Mia?"

"Definitely," Euphemia nods, ignoring James' scoffs of betrayal, "our boy is as mature as an imp."

"Fine," Layla huffed, crossing her arms against her chest, "but I really hope she tells us soon. I'm kind of curious."

December 31st, 1992. 

"Kids," Larissa began anxiously, not exactly sure how this should be done. Both her and Leopold had discussed how they were going to tell the triplets. They didn't want them to be uncomfortable, as Leopold was their teacher, but they also didn't want to lie and deceive them. It was a delicate balance of interests. Now, the four of them were sitting on the sofa, and she couldn't get the words out.

"It's alright Maman," Damian put a hand on his mother's, "we know what this is about. Take deep breaths, and then you can tell us who he is. We won't get mad." Damian had realized his mother was trying to introduce the man she was dating because she kept glancing towards the door, looking at her watch, and seemed very nervous. 

"How do you know about that?" Larissa stared open mouthed at her son. She thought she had been so careful.

"Estelle overheard your discussion with the adults and told us," Victor told his mother, "we're okay with it. We just want you to be happy."

Larissa couldn't help it, but her heart warmed at the thought that someone cared that much. Sure they were only children, but they were so kind and loving. How had the children she raised ended up like this?

"Alright," Larissa inhaled, and then exhaled, "I'm dating your potions professor, Leopold Arquette."

"Him?" Layla shouted, flabbergasted, "he's your type?"

"I like him enough," Victor shrugged, "I don't mind either way. But if he hurts you," Victor made a slicing motion across his neck, "he'll pay for it dearly."

"Tone it down Vic," Damian used his older brother voice, before hugging his mother, "thank you for sharing Maman. It must have been very difficult. We know that our father hadn't been very kind to you. It shows a lot that you are ready to meet new people. It makes my heart lighter that you're okay Maman."

"You sweet, sweet boy," Larissa sobbed as she embraced her son, "what have I done for you all to be so sweet?"

"You raised us," the children chorused, "wasn't that enough?" Larissa pulled the other two closer, and she simply cried while she held her children. 

"They're too wholesome," Molly wiped a tear from her eye, "they're a very warm family. I hope that we'll be like that one day."

"We already are," Arthur smiled brightly at his wife, "the burrow will be like that. I promise you Molly."

"Why does he have to flirt around us?" Gideon scowled, "that's our sister he's wooing."

Larissa eventually let go, and decided that now was the right time to tell them something else.

"About your father," Larissa began, and the children stood in rapt attention. Their mother rarely spoke of him, so they didn't want to miss what she did say.

"Finally," Edgar stroked his beard, "we'll find out who that child was sullying herself with."

"I've told you all about death eaters, correct?" Larissa confirmed with the children.

"Yes Maman," Layla answered slowly, "they're the dark wizards who committed acts of war and terrorism in the name of blood purity."

"Well your father was one of them," Larissa revealed, and the children gasped, "a rather high-ranking one in fact."

"That barely narrows it down," Arcturus muttered to himself, "times change and the wheel of power continues to turn. That can't help me figure out who fathered these children."

"How did you meet him?" Victor asked, horrified to know that he came from a bloodline of violence. He had always assumed his mother had been in a toxic relationship with some radical pureblood, but he'd never have considered that his father may be a death eater.

"I was at a ball," Larissa recalled, painful memories flashing in her mind, "purebloods liked to gather together every so often. It was a good place to negotiate business, sell off their children, and brag. I was only a rudimentary spell crafter at that time. I didn't have many friends in those circles, I never liked violence or strife, so I stuck to the back of the hall. That's where he found me."

"We ought to put more stringent measures in place at our next ball," Melania whispered to Arcturus, "I would have never though a good pureblood could do so, but if such a heinous act could truly take place at a pureblood ball, we ought to be careful."

"Agreed," Arcturus nodded, "we don't need more bastards in the world,"

"I knew who he was, everyone did. He was extremely dangerous you see. One of the best that the dark lord had. He tried flirting at first, but I ignored him. He didn't like that, and was more forceful. I fought him off, and tried to go and find my older brother. While Stefan wasn't stronger, I hoped that having my brother around would dissuade him from continuing."

"Did you find your brother?" Layla asked, horrified at the story her mother was weaving. This was not what she had in mind when she thought about her father. She just thought he was a jerk. It seemed she'd been ignorant.

"No," Larissa shuddered at the memories of that night, "he used an unforgivable curse, the imperious curse, to get me to comply. I didn't have a choice." Larissa paused, laughing bitterly, "the imperius is a funny curse. It's the most pleasant feeling, soothing in fact. It coaxes you to do things you wouldn't normally do, like following strangers. It makes you subservient to every command. He led me to a bedroom, where he commanded me to strip. The curse makes you oblivious to what's going on. After that, he took off the curse, and I became aware of where I was."

"Why would he do that?" Victor asked carefully, unsure how his mother would respond.

"He said he didn't like mindless puppets," Larissa scoffed, "he liked the screams. He only used the curse to get me to leave the ballroom without causing a scene. The room was soundproof, so he could do whatever he wanted at that point. He told me that the Dark Lord had personally sanctioned any of his actions, telling him that he deserved to let loose. He said he didn't care what he did, even to his followers. It was supposed to be your fathers reward. The Dark Lord normally said that the death eaters had to keep their twisted intentions away from the purebloods, but in your father's case, he was given free reign."

No one in the room spoke. The story being recounted was horrible, and the Greengrasses were starting to regret some of their words. They would have never thought that the lord who promised to give them freedom and power would ever sanction such a thing.

Larissa herself was frozen, her Aunt Antiope rubbing circles on her back, trying to ground her. Was this truly her fate? 

"That's how we were born?" Damian looked at his mother, horrified at what she said, "rape?"

"Yes," Larissa turned her gaze away from her son, "but don't be so disheartened. I've gotten stronger emotionally, and I've already forgiven myself for what happened."

"What happened to our sperm donor?" Victor asked viciously, "did he die gruesomely?"

"No," Larissa answered, "he went to Azkaban. May the dementors torture him for the rest of his life."

"I agree," Damian stood up, "thank you for telling us Maman. We know it was hard."

"You deserved to know," Larissa said simply, "now let's head to Place de la Concorde to meet Leopold. We're going to get ice cream before the firework show."

Chapter Text

No one was willing to discuss the events from the scene before, so the visions blared on, no words interrupting.

"We're here," Larissa waved to Leopold, who instantly brightened upon seeing the four of them.

"Bonjour Larissa," Leopold jogged over, "and bonjour to you three as well."

"Bonjour Monsieur Leopold," the three greeted in sync, the act still causing the teacher to freeze.

"No need to call me that out of school," Leopold smiled, "call me Leopold, or even Leo if you want."

"So weird," Layla muttered under her breath, "so, so weird."

"I agree," Gideon Prewett nods, "I would also feel weird if one of my teachers was dating my mom."

"Luckily that will never happen," Oscar kissed Elena quickly, causing all three of their children to turn away in disgust. They did not need to see that, thank you very much!

"Sorry," Leopold rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's just going to take getting used to," Victor reassured his favorite teacher, "if Maman had to date any teacher, you're probably the best option."

"Should I feel complimented or insulted?" Leopold whispered to Larissa, who simply giggled. The triplets were astonished. Their mother rarely giggles. Chuckles, laughs, cackles, but never giggles. If their teacher could bring that out of her, then maybe they can accept this. 

The night went according to plan, the five enjoying the fireworks and ice cream. The triplets got to know their teacher in a more casual setting, something they never would have dreamed of happening.

April 21st, 1993.

"Are you feeling alright Victor?" Leopold Arquette asks his student nervously, "you look sick. Actually, now that I think about it, all of you Greengrasses have been sickly lately. Is anything wrong?"

Victor glanced up at his teacher, eyes adjusting to the light. He had fallen asleep during potions, and his worried teacher had his hand on his forehead, frowning as he felt his temperature.

"He's sick," Larissa gasped quietly, "he really doesn't look well. I hope he'll be alright." She was barely over the revelation of her rape, how could she deal with this too?

"He'll be fine," Daniel reassured his cousin, "you Greengrasses are fighters. I'm sure he'll be up and running soon."

"You need to go to the infirmary," Leopold immediately announced, "you're burning up. Can you walk, or should I use a stretcher?"

"I can walk," Victor stood up, groaning as his aching head throbbed, "can we go quickly? The light is hurting my eyes. I want to go back to sleep."

"All of you have the rest of the period free," Leopold dismissed the class, "come on Victor, let's get you to the infirmary."

"Another one," the doctor, Dr. Maurice Archambeau frowned from his wheelchair, "that makes all three Greengrasses. Should we call their mother?" The mustached doctor had a stern look on his face, yet he was deeply concerned. Never had three siblings ever fallen ill at the same time before. It was even more unique, seeing as triplets were rare, more so magical triplets. There could be all sorts of unique magical phenomena happening to them. 

"I hope they're alright," Lily Evans looked pained on seeing young children ill, "they look so sick."

"I'm sure they'll be fine," James tried comforting Lily, "Dr. Mustache over there seems to know what he's doing."

Lily couldn't help but laugh slightly. James had a real gift for seeing the positive in things.

"I'll call Larissa," Leopold volunteered, not realizing the arched eyebrows of the two other teachers and doctors.

"And why would you do that?" Madame Ballard asked, giving Leopold a look, "let alone be on a first name basis with their mother?"

"Elsie has a good point," Monsieur Ajax Sallo inquired, "besides, where would you find her?"

"Also," Monsieur Gabriel Alfonso, the arithmancy teacher, raised an eyebrow, "shouldn't Madam Maxime or the doctor do that?"

"You lot are so cruel," Leopold buried his face in his hands, "I'm dating their mom. Are you pleased now?"

"Seems the Beauxbatons staff are on good terms," Antiope observed, "excellent. The best work can be done when everyone is in harmony."

"Very," Monsieur Sallo chuckled, mainly to ease his worries, "now go get your sweetheart. She's an alchemist, right? Perhaps she has some more information."

"She prefers being called an expert in magical arts," Leopold muttered under his breath, "she's not only talented in alchemy." Still, Leopold immediately went to the floo, heading directly to Larissa's home and lab.

"Larissa," Leopold called for his girlfriend, "you here?"

"Coming," Larissa exited her lab, soot all over her once pristine robes. Her dark hair was frazzled and burnt at the ends. Clearly she had just exploded something. "What's up?"

"I look rough," Larissa comments to herself, "I wonder what I blew up."

"From the lack of stains," Clarene pointed out, "it's probably not alchemy or potions. Likely a spell mishap."

"Nice observation," Larissa grinned at her cousin, al

"You need to come to the school," Leopold told her bluntly, "the kids are sick. Are we flying or apparating?"

"Let's apparate to the station," Larissa immediately responds, "no moments to waste." Larissa turned on her heel, instantly disappearing with no crackle. Leopold always marveled at her incredible skill in apparition, but now was not the chance to do that. He too apparated to the station, and had to run to catch up with his girlfriend, who was anxiously rushing up to the castle.

"Where are they?" she burst into the infirmary, anxiety heightening once she saw her children, "Victor! Damian! Layla!"

"Whoa," Elise Ballard was not expecting such a crazed woman to enter, "calm down Ms. Greengrass."

"You're so fast Larissa," Leopold huffed as he entered, "Larissa, calm down."

"When did this start?" Larissa asked the teacher, anxious to begin diagnosing her kids.

"I've noticed they've been more tired," Monsieur Alfonso frowned, "but I hadn't realized it was getting this bad. Layla passed out in my class this morning."

"Victor had an extremely high fever," Leopold told Larissa, "and he fell asleep in potions. Potions!"

"He loves potions," Larissa frowned, "what about Damian?"

"His roommates couldn't wake him this morning," Dr. Archambeau explained, "I had Monsieur Sallo transport him here. He's breathing cleanly, but he hasn't regained consciousness yet."

"I've never seen anything quite like this," Albus Dumbledore mused, "I truly wonder what in Merlin's name is going on?"

Larissa stepped forward, pressing her fingers on her son's neck. She could feel heavy magic thrumming through his veins, far more than should be normal. After repeating with all three kids, Larissa came to a conclusion.

"Magic poisoning," Larissa proclaimed, stunning the staff.

"You're saying they're poisoned?" Madame Ballard asked incredulously, "you haven't any reason to believe that. You've just touched their necks!"

"You didn't allow me to finish," Larissa coldly addressed the woman, "what I mean is, their own magic is poisoning them. Think of it as a sort of autoimmune disease, only with magic."

"Go on," Dr. Archambeau was curious to see where this was going. He'd heard that Larissa Greengrass was Nicholas Flamel's only pupil. She probably knew something he didn't.

"Confession time," Larissa said guiltily, glancing at her children, "at home, we don't use wands to do magic. We simply use our hands."

"Excuse me," Monsieur Sallo interrupted, "but are you trying to convince us that a bunch of kids do what most accomplished witches and wizards can't?"

Larissa snapped her fingers, and Monsieur Sallo found himself lacking a mouth. 

"Does this prove it to you?" Larissa snarled, lifting herself above the ground casually, "or are we going to completely discount what I say?"

"Unsupported flight," many death eater's greedy eyes landed on Larissa, "Our Lord could use her."

At this point, many of the viewers were already desensitized to the amazing power Larissa displayed. Flight wasn't too far fetched for her in their eyes.

"I think we'll listen," the doctor mediated, "please Ms. Greengrass, continue what you were trying to say."

"My studies under Nicholas Flamel," at that Larissa had to hold in her sadness, "show that the wand is simply a conduit. Back in the day, before wands were around, powerful witches and wizards would get magical exhaustion very easily, their body struggling to handle the constant dispelling of incredible magical energy. They eventually fashioned wands, a way of continuing to display great acts of power, but with a conduit, they'd lose less energy. Eventually, the weaker wizards followed, and wands became the norm. Suddenly, everyone was too dependent on them to cast magic without them. It's very hard to cast a lot of powerful magic wandlessly though. It costs more energy than using a wand to do the same thing."

"Fascinating," Monsieur Alfonso breathed, "now, what does this have to do with anything?"

"Since we used wandless magic daily," Larissa explains, gently stroking Layla's hair, "their systems are used to ridding themselves of a lot of excess magic. However, since they use wands in school, their bodies, over time, have accumulated too much extra magic. Now, their bodies are attacking the magic, trying to get it out. That's why they're so sick. The magic is attacking them inside in order to get out." At this Larissa choked, "I only meant to make sure they'd never be caught helpless. I never intended for them to get sick because of it."

"Incredible," Albus' eyes widened, "no wonder Nicholas always used a wand. I always thought he should be able to use it, especially because I can use some wandless magic, and Nicholas was far older and wise. Now I understand. If he had used it, he would have weakened his already weak body even more."

"That's a world changing discovery," Professor Flitwick squeaked, "it's very impressive of you Ms. Greengrass."

"Thank you?" Larissa replied hesitantly, more like asking if she even deserved thanks. It wasn't even her who did that!

"It's alright," Dr. Archambeau reassured Larissa, "just how do we fix it?"

"I'd have to wake them," Larissa quickly strategized, "and get them to let out a burst of magic. Afterwards, I'll give them instructions on how to manage this condition."

"Can we help?" Monsieur Sallo asked, "they're our students. We have a responsibility towards them."

"You should be able to," Larissa thought for a moment, "just tell them to make Maman's light show. They'll know what to do."

"Good morning Victor," Leopold gently shook Victor awake, "I need you to do something for me. Without it, you're not going to get better."

"What do I gotta do?" Victor slurred, his mind scrambling the longer the magic was trapped in his body.

"Make your Maman's light show," Leopold instructed, "don't mind that other people are here. Your maman said it's okay."

Moments later, glowing lights were shining in the air, and Victor's face began to regain color the longer he held the magic. After two minutes, he collapsed back in bed. Checking his temperature, Leopold was happy to see that it was cooling down.

Across, Madam Ballard was coaching Layla through the process. Larissa had to do Damian, him being nearly impossible to wake. After their magic was drained, Larissa let out a huge sigh of relief. Her babies were safe.

Chapter Text

The triplets didn't have it easy after they awoke. Magic poisoning left an effect, and they weakened considerably. Larissa had designed a workout plan for them, something that would force them to expel a lot of magical energy. The teachers were always on their case, making sure they did their exercises. Especially Monsieur Leopold. Their mother's boyfriend would keep an annoyingly close eye on them

Time passed slowly. The triplets each wrote to the friends they'd made over the summer, Flora and Yusuf Shacklebolt, Rolf and Selena Scamander, and Cesare Nott. Cesare's mother had passed on, likely from poisoning he wrote, but he felt grateful for all the effort they had made to heal her. 

Boaz, Estelle, and Freya had freaked out when their cousins had gotten hurt. Freya and Estelle wouldn't allow Layla to leave their sight, and Boaz followed Damian and Victor around like a lost puppy. While initially annoying, it granted them all time to spend with each other.

Days passed, nights fell, and soon enough, summer vacation was in session. For the very first time, the triplets would be splitting up.

Damian was heading to summer camp with Adin and Ellen, something he hadn't had the chance to do the year before. The camp was based in Spain, with many people coming from other countries. The camp took the campers around the world to explore magical communities, and Damian was extremely excited to go. 

Selena Scamander had invited Layla to stay with them for a few weeks, and Layla had eagerly taken the opportunity to stay with her friends. Out of the triplets, it was Layla who had connected with the Scamanders and Shacklebolts the most. Jacob and Esmerelda also promised to take Layla with them on a visit to Esmerelda's home country, Brazil, and Layla already brought the pocket money to purchase books. She'd been studying Portuguese for a little over three months, roughly the time she found out she'd be going.

Victor would be staying home, though his friend Lèon would be visiting for a week. Larissa had promised to take them to a quidditch match, where Victor's newest friend, Felicia Rosier, would be joining them.

"Goodbye my love," Larissa kissed Layla on the forehead, "have a wonderful time. Esmerelda and Jacob will treat you well."

"Love you Maman," Layla kissed her mother's cheek, "I'll be sure to write."

"Jacob is a lot of fun," James smirked, "the girl's in for a treat."

"Maybe fatherhood matured him James," Euphemia hoped, "you can't be a prankster forever."

"Stop bursting my bubble Mum," James covered his ears, causing his round glasses to fall down his face, "Jacob will always be Mr. Fun."

"Believe what you will," Euphemia chuckled at her boy's amusing reaction. "We'll just wait and see."

"I'm so excited!" Selena happily skipped, pulling Layla along with her, "I'll have to tell you all about my first year in Hogwarts."

"And I have all the good gossip," Rolf smirks, "I just have to tell you about the two upper years that almost canceled the quidditch finals over their breakup."

"No way," Layla's jaw dropped, "drop the tea Rolf."

"That's not even the beginning," Rolf seemed not to have heard her, "a secret chamber opened, students got petrified, and a girl got kidnapped. We also had a basilisk in the pipes which a second year slayed in order to rescue the kidnapped girl."

"What in Merlin's name happens in Hogwarts?" Minerva's normally stoic demeanor shifts to one of shock. How was this kid so nonchalant about these events?

"That's not normal," Layla stopped walking, "Rolf, you should have led with that."

"The girl who was kidnapped was Ginny Weasley," Selena explained, stopping to answer, "she's a roommate of mine. She was kidnapped by the Heir of Slytherin, who trapped her in the infamous Chamber of Secrets. Harry Potter, who can speak parseltongue by the way, broke into the chamber and saved her with Gryffindor's sword!"

"Our daughter," Molly Weasley frozen in place, "Arthur! Our daughter!"

"Shh," Arthur soothed Molly, though his own nerves were rattled, "the girl says she was saved. Deep breaths Mollywobbles."

"Who the hell would kidnap our niece?" the twins thundered, "who's this cocky Heir of Slytherin fellow? If we laid our hands on him, then-"

"Enough boys," Elena Prewetts stern voice cut off their rant, "you are only making your sister more worried. Cease this useless talk and help her."

"Sorry Mum," the twins wised up, and went to comfort their sister.

"Was he okay?" Layla asked worriedly, "actually, rephrase that, was everyone okay? The petrified people, Ginny, and Harry?"

"Thank Merlin everything's well now," Rolf told her, which made her breath a sigh of relief, "now back to that story of the upper years."

"Do tell," Layla rubbed her hands in anticipation, "but first, let's get inside. The bugs are murdering me."

The three friends sprinted across the grass where Larissa had dropped Layla off, and rushed into the house. 

Damian, on the other hand, was sitting on a plane with Adin and Ellen, on route to Madrid, Spain.

"Where in Merlin's name is he?" Sirius wondered, "it doesn't seem like a train."

"It's an airplane, Padfoot," Remus kindly pointed out, "do you not pay attention in Muggle Studies?"

"Yes," Sirius unabashedly answers, "that class is a waste of my time. I just took it to piss the old folk at the House of Black off."

"I should've expected that," Remus sighed in disappointment, "yet you still passed the class with an Outstanding."

"What can I say, Moony?" Sirius tapped his head, "I'm just a genius." 

No one faulted Remus Lupin for the screams of exasperation that left his mouth. Sirius could be hard to handle at times.

"I'm so excited," Adin was fidgeting in his seat, "I went last year. We went on so many interesting tours. I wonder where they're going to take us this year."

"I heard that our first stop after Spain is Russia," Ellen eagerly exclaimed, "Koldovstoretz graduates are said to be our guides. Aren't you excited Damian?"

"Thrilled," Damian assured his friend, "just missing my siblings. We've never been apart before."

"There's a first for everything," Adin nudged Damian playfully, "you guys have shared everything, even a womb. Isn't it nice to develop a little on your own?"

"I guess I can think of it that way," Damian brightened, "and I'll get all sorts of souvenirs. Maman gave me plenty of allowance."

"Don't you have a bank in every country though?" Ellen inquired curiously, "your grandfather was known for investing in foreign currency, and you and your siblings inherited everything."

"I forgot how well off Nicholas was," Albus was given a figurative slap in the face, "of course he was. He lived for centuries. That's certainly enough time to set up an income and make a lot of money."

"That's true," Damian admitted, "but we haven't gotten to going and claiming everything. Maman said she'd take us as soon as she gets clearance from the ministry. They're still processing some of the paperwork."

"Too bad," Ellen shrugged, "that could have been cool."

"When are we going to land?" Adin groaned, "it's so boring. If this were a magical form of transportation, I could just practice my spellwork. But nooo, we had to travel through non-magical transportation, which means not breaking the International Statute of Secrecy. This is absolute torture."

"Is there no trace in France?" Lily turned to Antiope Delancy, "they only seem to be concerned with the Statue of Secrecy, not Underage Magical Restriction."

"Indeed," Antiope nodded, "we have no use for such redundant laws. All magical children break it anyways, so why bother?"

"She's not wrong," Moody admitted, "the law is a little pointless. But it does serve a purpose for those who live in the muggle world."

"Then amend the trace to fit that," Lily suggested, "why keep a ridiculous law that only causes problems?"

"It's not that simple," Dumbledore patiently explained to his student, "if we cancel the trace for those who live in magical households, then the people who live in the muggle world will feel as if we're being prejudiced against them. If we get rid of it entirely, then people will break the Statue of Secrecy on a daily basis. It's the only feasible option for British Wizardry."

"I suppose," Lily deflated, "it was wishful thinking on my part."

"There, there," Ellen pat Adin's shoulder gently, "it'll all be over soon. Take a nap or something. We’ll land in two hours."

Victor was the only child not having fun. He had to watch his potions teacher flirt with his mother, all whilst sitting in his very own house!

Now, Victor was very grateful for Leoplold Arquette. Not only was he a great teacher, but he made his mother happy and took care of him and his siblings while they were sick. Even with all that, it was disgusting to see the man flirt and woo his mother.

"Why can't he stop?" Victor groaned to himself, "does he not realize I'm sitting here?"

"Poor Victor," Peter sympathized with the younger boy. He felt the same way when his folk remarried. It was a nasty feeling to realize your parents had love lives.

"Are you coming to the park with us Victor?" Larissa called for her son as she grabbed her vest, "Leopold is taking me to get ice cream."

"Coming Maman," Victor jumped at the opportunity, "let me grab my wand."

"Leave it at home," Larissa instructed, "you haven't done your quota of wandless magic. You're best off without it."

"I still can't believe you're so powerful you get sick of you don't use wandless magic," Leopold was still amazed every time they did wandless magic, "even with your mother teaching me, it's still completely unprecedented for our day and age."

"I'm just that awesome Leopold," Victor smirked, summoning his slippers from his bedroom, "you'll never compete."

"Leave the bravado at home Vic," Leopold laughed, "we're just getting ice cream."

"Enough boy talk," Larissa grabbed the two by the hands, "out we go!" The three head out, ready for their outing of the day. Summer was off to a great start.

Chapter Text

"Layla!" Flora Shacklebolt enveloped Layla in a tight embrace, "you've gotten so pretty." It was week two into Layla's stay with the Scamanders, and they had gone to see the Shacklebolts for brunch.

"I know, right?" Layla twirled once Flora released her, "Maman says I look a lot like her when she was young."

"She does," Stefan guiltily admitted, "she looks so much like Larissa it hurts. It's the reddish-blonde that throws it off."

"Strawberry blonde," Gloria corrected her older brother, "and I don't think she looks like our blood traitor sister. She reminds me of someone else, though I can't quite place who. Maybe Aunt Antiope." Gloria couldn't shrug off the feeling that she was missing something. Something in that girl's appearance bothered her.

"Well your mother must have been a real beauty," Leta placed a bowl of piping hot mac and cheese on the table, "come on, time to eat."

"Thanks Aunt Leta," Rolf thanked his aunt politely, before viciously devouring his food. Layla giggled at the paradox, and began to eat her own serving. It tasted delicious, something that Layla was surprised about. Leta Shacklebolt didn't seem like the type to be proficient in the kitchen.

"Mum's a great cook," Selena mentioned between bites, "cooking is Dad's passion, so she had to wisen up. At least that's what she says."

"Leta Scamander," James made a face of disbelief, "cooking?"

"People change James," Euphemia smiled, "so what if Leta expressed some, ahem, strange ideas about cooking. Everyone is able to change their minds."

"Leta's just embarrassed that she likes to cook," Jacob whispered conspiratorially, ignoring the shakshuka in front of him,  "she had a big feminist stage. Not that that's a problem in the slightest, but she promised she'd "Never step foot in the kitchen and make her man do all the work". So she gets a little embarrassed whenever she does end up cooking. Wish she'd cooked more when we were younger though. For all Mum and Dad's great qualities, they're horrible chefs."

"I never said that!" Leta protested, "I just said I wouldn't let myself be stuck cooking for the man all day. Also, feminism was not a stage. I'm still a proud feminist you jerk!"

"Of course you are," Gregory kissed his wife's cheek, "I'm just glad you were willing to learn to cook with me. We wouldn't have been able to have our cook offs if you didn't. Speaking of, Jacob, are you guys coming to Saturday's cook off barbecue?"

"We wouldn't miss it," Jacob answered honestly, "you two make the most scrumptious food at those things. Competition really does fire you up."

"She always was competitive," Fleamont chuckled, "glad to see she hasn't lost her spark."

"By the way Rolf," Esmerelda informed her son, "Cesare sent an owl this morning saying he won't be able to make it."

"Salazar's toenail!" Rolf cursed, getting a glare from his parents, "I was really looking forward to going bowling."

"Well you'll have to postpone the trip," Esmerelda turned to her sister-in-law, "if bowling is canceled for the day, how about we go to Diagon Alley for the day? I have to get my wand repaired, and Rolf is already outgrowing his formal wear. We can run some errands, and then have dinner at your father's estate."

"Fine by me," Leta shrugged, "kids?"

"Sounds fun," Selena smiled, "let's go."

"Fine," Rolf said sulkily, "we can go get ice cream or something."

"They seem so functional," Regulus whispered to himself, "why can't we be like that? They're half-bloods and blood traitors, yet all of them are together. Why are we so divided?"

"This is amazing!" Damian shouted as his log kayak flew down the waterfall, "Japan rocks!"

"You think?" Adin shouted back as he nearly crashed into a huge boulder, "I've seen more rocks on this rafting trip than I've seen in the whole rest of my life."

"There's more to come," their new Japanese friend, Akio Sato, warned, "don't get too reckless."

"We won't," Danii Nikoliav, their Russian bunkmate raced past them, "see if you can catch me Damian."

"Oh it's on," Damian grinned, and began to paddle faster, "you won't win this Danii."

"We need to do that," Sirius and James locked eyes. Euphemia preemptively mourned her sanity. Those two wouldn't let her breathe peacefully until she took them.

As they reached the rendezvous point, Damian got a clever idea. Seeing as there were no no-majs in sight, he levitated his log kayak out of the water, and flew past Danii.

"Lucky brat," the other boys groaned. They would have to drag their kayaks out of the water themselves, as only Damian was capable of wandless magic. Taking pity on them, Damian snapped his fingers, and the boys who had arrived with him found themselves on the riverbank.

"Thanks Damian," Giselle Ábel, a Slovakian girl, thanked Damian, drying her hair with a muttered spell, "I will never be able to get over your insane magical prowess."

"Good job kids," their counselor, a German by the name of Adam Wagner, praised, arriving from behind them, "the bus will be here to pick us up in ten minutes. Until then, feel free to take pictures or souvenirs from this location."

"Seems like a really fun camp," Marlene observed, "I wonder who runs it. As far as I'm concerned, nothing like that exists now."

"It is an interesting idea," Lucius Malfoy comments to his father, "but I too am curious as to who runs it. A camp like this would need a very politically connected owner to operate. Despite being magical, we unfortunately have to abide by muggle border laws. So whoever runs this camp has the ability to get permits for each child to enter and leave multiple countries. That's not withstanding the challenge of getting wand permits from each magical government. The person behind this camp could be an excellent addition for our ranks."

"I see where you're coming from Lucius," Abraxas pondered his son's words, "someone with governmental pull like that could be extremely helpful to Our Lord. I will have my spies see if this idea has already taken roots as soon as we exit this place."

"Or we could steal the idea for ourselves," Narcissa smoothly interjected, "if we find out the man's connections and resources due to these visions, we can make money and prestige off them. A camp like that must be extremely expensive, so the Malfoy family could expand its parameters and become even wealthier."

"Another good suggestion," Abraxas acknowledged the brilliance in his daughter-in-law's words, "for now, all that can be done is to gain more information."

"Say cheese Damian!" Ellen Francis snaps a surprise candid picture. Damian startles at the flash, and the resulting picture was certainly amusing.

"We should put that in the scrapbook," Adin pocketed the picture before Damian could protest, "it's worth preserving."

"Don't you dare," Damian tried to get the picture from his friend, who ran off laughing.

"Don't let him catch you!" Giselle hollered, "we might win the funniest picture if we keep that thing."

"I'm so happy for him," Larissa smiled at the vision, "he looks so happy and free. That's how children ought to be."

"It's all thanks to you," Antiope tells her nieces, nudging her a bit, "future you does a great job at raising them."

"She does," Larissa nods in agreement, "an amazing job indeed."

"Why is Monsieur Leopold in your house?" Felicia Rosier, a tall, freckled blonde member of the French Rosier family, tentatively asked Victor.

"I'm dating his mom, Felicia," Leopold answered unabashedly from his place on the couch,  making Victor groan out loud.

"He's such step-dad material," Peter huffs, "my step-dad was just like that."

"I thought you like your step-dad," James raised an eyebrow, "what did Joshua do?"

"I never said he did anything," Peter pointed out, "only that he did the same thing."

"Oh," James sheepishly turned away, "sorry."

"Stop embarrassing me," Victor motioned for Felicia to follow him, "Lèon, Ray, and Damian are upstairs."

Two newer friends of Victor's, Ray Silver and Damian Garcia, were joining them for the day. The five of them were going to the movies to watch Son of the Pink Panther . Larissa had promised Victor that when they'd return back to the house, she'd have brownies and games set up for them. Afterwards, they'd head straight to the quidditch match.

"Finally," Ray cheered when her friend entered the room, "about time."

"You weren't waiting that long Rachel," Felicia rolled her eyes, sitting beside Lèon on Victor's bed, "now what were you two discussing  before I got here?

"It's Ray!" Ray insisted, before sighing and answering, "electives."

"Oh," Felicia shrugged, "are we ready to go?"

"Just about," Victor rummaged through his desk drawers, "I just need to find my spare key. If Maman and Leopold go out, I don't want to have to fight the wards. Maman's wards are scarily powerful."

"I would have guessed as much," Filius Flitwick commented, "knowing how powerful she is, warding definitely shouldn't be a problem."

The five friends head out to see the movie. After they returned, they ate the brownies Larissa prepared. The two adults then herded the five kids around a portkey.

"Watch out!" Ray screams as she crash lands onto Damian. Victor, Felicia, and the adults land gracefully. The other two have a lot to learn.

"Let's hurry," Larissa helped Ray off Damian, "I got us rather nice seats that I'd like us not to waste."

The kids follow Leopold and Larissa to the line, where Larissa hands over their tickets. They climb to the prime seats Larissa purchased for them, and settle in to watch the match. The match was Sweden versus France, and the kids were all hyped.

"Thanks for taking us Ms. Greengrass," Felicia thanked Larissa as the players swooped in the air, "I had a lot of fun."

"I'm glad," Larissa smiles, "I hope for many more happy summers."

The match ends with a French win, and the cheering children are all settled in the house. In the morning, their parents would arrive to pick them up. Until then, they'd keep on partying.

Chapter Text

Summer couldn't last forever though. Larissa, Leopold, and Victor would be picking up Damian, Adin, and Ellen from the London airport, and then heading to the Scamanders for dinner. Afterwards, they'd all begin the long journey back to France. 

"Are you ready for a road trip, kid?" Leopold asked over his shoulder, "come on Victor, what's with the sullen face?"

"Victor gets motion sickness," Larissa answers, pulling a potion from one of the drawers, "here Vic. This should help with the nausea."

"Thanks Maman," Victor drank the potion in one go, "I hate road trips."

"Don't be like that," Leopold smiles, "this is the perfect time for us all to get to know each other better."

"After this summer," Victor spat at his mother's boyfriend, "I think I know you too well."

"He's a witty one," Sirius chuckled, "I like it. Makes this whole experience more entertaining."

"People's lives aren't entertainment, Sirius" Lily sighed. What was she going to do with this absolute man child?

"Don't be mean," Leopold laughed, and Victor tossed a shoe at him, "alright, alright, I'll leave you alone."

"Stupid teacher," Victor grumbled, "I'm going to sleep, Maman."

"Alright," Larissa looked back from where she was driving, "we're going to start flying in an hour, so you might get jostled up. Otherwise, there should be nothing wrong with that."

Victor closes his eyes, and dozes off to sleep.

"You think he'll ever like me?" Leopold sighs, running a hand through his hair, "I feel like he only respects me as a teacher, and that fades more and more the longer we're dating."

"He's good for her," Antiope smiles to herself, "I'm glad. After all her suffering, she deserves happiness."

"Victor's made of harder stuff than his siblings," Larissa explains to her boyfriend, "he reacts harsher and stronger to things. Layla, for example, is a troublemaker and eccentric thinker, but when it comes down to it, she solves things with kindness and peace. She might be wild in attitude, but in action, she's sweet and forgiving. Damian is a very true person. He hides little about himself, masks few of his opinions, and bares his true self to everyone. He is genuinely that goodhearted, something that amazes me until this day."

Larissa pauses to glance at her middle child. He looked very vulnerable and innocent as he slept, and Larissa couldn't help the gushing love she felt for her boy.

"Victor is the child I empathize with most," Larissa tells her boyfriend, "he's jaded and unsure of himself. He knows his talents, is externally arrogant, yet in truth, he's a lot more insecure than he appears. He has a much more realistic picture of the world than the other two do. He and I are realists, while Damian and Layla are idealists. I think he always had a problem with looking different than his siblings. He knows out of the three of them that he is most similar to their father, and I think it bothers him. He always knew his father wasn't exactly a good person, so knowing he was in any way similar to him hurt."

"Huh," Lyra Delancy observed, "that is an incredibly accurate picture of who these children are. At least from what we see. I guess mother really does know best in this case."

"So the middle child is most like the father," Edgar stroked his beard, "Andrea, keep an eye on the middle boy. I want to see if we can figure it out."

"Of course dear," Andrea smiles at her husband, "then we'll know exactly how to prevent this from happening. I will not allow my daughter to become a whore."

"Your attitude could really use some correction," Antiope glared at her former sister-in-law, "instead of wanting to punish the man, you seek to degrade the woman."

"If the Dark Lord gave his stamp of approval," Edmund hissed at his aunt, "then it is a righteous act. She was simply ungrateful for the opportunity that the Dark Lord's servant gave her."

"You are sick in the head," Antiope shook her head, "I can't believe that my late husband was related to you. Edgar, how did you raise children to believe such toxicity? And you Andrea? As a woman you should be filled with love and empathy for your child, yet you degrade her? Damian would be tortured if he knew this was what his sister believed. You lot are twisted, horrible people."

"Antiope!" Andrea screeched, "how dare you speak that way to a member of the Noble House of Greengrass! Do you know no respect?"

"I see no nobility before me," Antiope retorted in righteous fury, "and I don't want to hear one more word out of you!"

Edgar and Andrea were seething, and about to respond, before Leanne leaned over to her parents.

"It's not worth it," she whispered, "you're just degrading our family name."

Andrea was about to scold her daughter for her gall, but Edgar sighed.

"She's right Andrea," Edgar placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, "we'll wait for a better time."

"Does he look like him?" Leopold hesitantly asked, looking over at the young boy sleeping in the back, "because he has your hair color."

"He looks very much like a Delancy," Larissa pointed out, "I'm not very sure about his father's eyes, that was my last priority back in the day. His skin tone does come from him though. None of the children particularly look like him, and none of them have his hair color. I think Damian would actually resemble him the most. It will probably be more obvious when they're older though."

"Well there went that plan," Edgar huffed, "oh well, we'll find out eventually."

"Maman!" Damian sprung into his mother's arms as soon as she arrived at the airport, "I missed you."

"You didn't miss me?" Victor rolled his eyes, "your own wombmate?"

"Vic!" Damian disentangled from his mother's embrace, and went to hug his younger brother, "boy do I have stories to tell you?"

"Monsieur Leopold?" Ellen frowned, "what are you doing here?"

"Picking you three up from the airport," the teacher answered, purposefully ignoring the lingering question.

"Why are you here with Victor and Ms. Greengrass?" Adin's eyes narrowed, "suspicious."

"Oh," Damian looks at his friends, "he's dating my mom."

"WHAT!" Damian's two friends were flabbergasted, their jaws dropping in surprise.

"I love how they all react the same way," Fabian Prewett chuckled, "it's like copy and paste every time."

"I know," his twin brother agreed, "is it really that weird?"

"Thank Merlin we'll never know," Fabian answered. Indeed, his parents had an excellent relationship, thank you very much.

"Surprise!" Leopold did jazz hands, "isn't that fun? You're going on a road trip with the best teacher the school has."

"Madam Ballard is the best," Ellen unabashedly informed her teacher, "sorry Monsieur Leopold, but that title does not belong to you."

"Why do kids enjoy bullying me?" Leopold complained to Larissa, who only laughed at him.

"Let's get all the bags loaded," she instructed the children, "we don't want to keep Jacob and Esmerelda waiting."

"Or Layla," Victor helpfully points out, "she'll go all crazy on us."

The six of them pile into the car, and begin to drive towards the Scamanders’ house. As soon as the car touched ground, Layla was rushing out of the house to greet them.

"Maman!" Layla leapt into her mother's arms, "it's so good to see you."

"They really love me," Larissa teared up, "the kids love me. It means I didn't screw them up."

"Hey Layla," Damian and Victor waved, as did Ellen and Adin. Leopold was still in the car, having accidentally torn his shirt. He had insisted that they go ahead while he repaired it, so he was missing in action.

"Damian! Victor!" Layla hugged her brothers, before pressing kisses on each of their cheeks, "I've missed my buddies in crime."

"You replaced your brothers with Rolf and Selena well enough," Esmerelda jokes, "with or without them, you can certainly get trouble to follow you."

"Thanks for having her Esmerelda," Larissa thanked the older woman, "it was very kind of you. We'll have to return the favor next summer."

"Can we Mum?" Selena's eyes widened, "please?"

"I'll have to see then," Esmerelda shook her head fondly, "Lena, no amount of puppy eyes is going to change that!"

"Shucks," Selena pouted, "it always works on Daddy."

"Why can I see that?" James laughed, "Jacob and a daughter just fit. He'd definitely like pampering her. He can never keep his hands away from Leta's hair. She absolutely hates it."

"I still can't believe you know the Scamanders," Remus crosses his arms, "were you two ever going to tell me?"

"It wasn't a big deal Moony," Sirius protested, "if we had known it meant this much to you, we would have told you ages ago."

Remus softened at that. He knew his friends hadn't meant to keep such a secret from him. They just simply saw Newt Scamander as Newt Scamander, and not the celebrity he was. There was no reason for James and Sirius to tell him that James' family friend had come to visit.

"That's why you have a mommy," Jacob interjects, "to maintain discipline and order when I'm too soft to. Now, let's get to eating. The Greengrasses and their friends have to leave soon."

Dinner takes place, and the kids eat to their heart's content. Just before they leave, Jacob pulls Leopold in for a conversation.

"Listen closely," Jacob warns, "I haven't known Larissa for very long, nor do I know her very well. But what I do know is that she was precious to my Great-Uncle, and that she has suffered enough. If I hear even a whiff of mistreatment from you, I will end your life as a wizard. Am I clear?"

"Someone gave a shovel talk," Daniel smirked, "I hope we Delancys get our shot soon."

"Yeah," Guenivive cracked her knuckles, "we'd be great at it."

"You guys are nuts," Larissa was horrified at her cousins' behavior. She never knew they could look that scary!

"Crystal," Leopold saluted nervously, "no malicious intention here."

As Leopold turned to leave, Jacob called out.

"Just so you know," he smirked widely, "if you think this was rough, just wait until the Delancys get on your case."

Leopold gulped, and headed to the car. 

"What did Jacob have to say?" Larissa asked as they drove off, the kids all getting ready to sleep through the drive.

"Nothing," Leopold dismissed, "just guy stuff."

"If you say so," Larissa shrugged, and the drive proceeded as planned. The trip went well, and after that, Leopold Aquette developed a slight fear of Jacob Scamander.

Chapter Text

Third year was a strange one for the Greengrass triplets. With Monsieur Leopold openly dating their mother, potions class brewed turmoil between student and teacher. Additionally, they had begun electives, and each child of Larissa Greengrass was spreading their wings. 

Layla was taking magical art and ancient runes for electives. She had always been fascinated by the magical portraits that her grandfather had, and he had once promised to teach her the art of the paintbrush. He would never get to do that now, but that didn't stop her from wanting to learn. Her teacher, Madam Amelie Ecan, was a tad eccentric, although it was no detriment to her classes. The woman was a goddess when it came to art, and Layla adored her teacher.

Ancient Runes, which all three children took, was taught by Monsieur Derick Bazaine. He was the first teacher that the triplets were torn over. Layla thought he was a vulgar and ignorant man who knew next to nothing about how to teach a class. He made nasty jokes and always got off topic. By the time Yule was coming around, they'd only covered less than a quarter of the curriculum. Victor and Damian thought that Monsieur Bazaine was an okay teacher, certainly not the best, but they didn't loathe him the way their sister did.

Victor was taking care of magical creatures, ancient runes, and advanced dueling. Monsieur Sallo, the instructor for dueling, was as awesome as ever, and Victor loved every minute of it. Care of magical creatures was nice as well. Madame Elena Berrau instructed the class, and while she was a little scatterbrained, the classes were informative and fun.

Damian, much like his younger siblings, took electives that he was interested in. Magical Culture was his absolute favorite. Mr. George Cleavman, the teacher, had been a wandering nomad, who had wandered the magical world, documenting different parts of each culture. The first culture they were learning about was English culture which was rather amusing to Damian, as he himself was of English blood. When he told the teacher that, Mr. Cleavman's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Ever since, Mr. Cleavman always called on Damian, trying to see if he truly was in touch with his English blood. 

Everything was going smoothly, until a fateful meeting.

"Alright Greengrasses," Leopold Arquette slid into his seat, "thank you for coming."

"What do you think is going on?" Clarene whispered to her younger brother, "I hope everything is alright."

I'm sure it's all well," Daniel reassured her, "let's wait and see."

"What did you call us for?" Victor asked bluntly, "we do have essays to write. You yourself assigned a two page one due in two days."

"I wanted to talk to you three about something," Leopold sighed, "it's going to shake up your world, so I felt it was only fair that I discuss it with you first."

"You can't possibly mean what I think you mean," Layla gasped, having guessed what her professor's intention was.

"I intend to ask your mother to marry me," Leopold continued, ignoring the gaping mouths of his students, "and I intend to do it some time after Yule. I want to get on her cousins' good sides first. I really should have proposed first, but I wanted to have a conversation with you three first. I don't want you to feel as if I'm flipping everything around, and that you aren't considered in the decision making process. If any of you have a problem or concern, I want to discuss it now, so we don't have to throw hands later. I want to be clear, I'm not asking for permission, I'm just getting you three adjusted to the idea."

"That was very good of him," Antiope smiled softly, "making sure that the kids are comfortable with the new addition is very important."

"I approve," Clarene proclaimed, "Leopold has won my approval to marry our Larissa. I'm sure future me will approve as well. Honestly, I never would have thought that one of my classmates would marry one of my English cousins. The world works in mysterious ways."

"He's got mine too," Lillian agreed with her sister, "though he's in for a good beating if he hurts her."

"I'm with you sisters," Lyra smiles widely, "Monsieur Arquette shall rue the day he harms our lovely Rissa."

"The same promise can be given to you," Larissa swears to her cousins, "I may not be the best at martial magic, but I will find a way to make them regret it."

"I'm so glad you all get along," Antiope wiped a tear from her eye, "truly remarkable. Damian would have loved to see this."

"You have my support," Damian immediately says, "if my mother says yes, so be it. Should she say no, so be it as well. I only want her happiness. If you make her happy Monsieur, then by all means, marry her. I'm sure my aunts and uncles will like you, as long as you treat our Maman right. How we'll feel about you, who knows? Thank you for telling us though."

"He's so mature," Peter observed, "I didn't take my mother's remarriage that well at all."

"We know Wormy," Sirius laughs, "we were all there when you cursed Joshua out. Your mom was so embarrassed."

"Shut up Padfoot," Peter groans, "you're the worst."

"You know you love me though," Sirius grins, "we're best mates."

"Unfortunately," Peter agrees, "fine. You're forgiven Sirius."

"First names!" Sirius faked horror, "you have carved a hole in my heart Wormy."

"I'm not dealing with this," Peter shook his head, "Prongs, he's your problem now."

"Got it Wormtail," James calls, "come on Siri."

"Coming Jimmy Jam," Sirius singsonged, "let's sit together for the rest of these visions."

"Alright," James grinned at his brother, "let's do that."

"What does that mean for us?" Layla asks, "what does that change? Will Maman change her name? Will we have to move? Will you have more children? It's not our decision, yet it completely shifts everything. Do you have a plan?"

"I would have to speak with your mother first," Leopold answers honestly, "I cannot answer those questions. At least not yet. As soon as I can, I'd be happy to do so."

"Thank you," Layla smiles, though tears are welling up in her jade green eyes, ones so much like her mother's "thanks for caring for her in a way we can't. She gave her whole life for us, so the least we can do is welcome the things that bring her happiness into our lives."

"How are you feeling Victor?" Leopold inquires, an eyebrow raised, "you good?"

"Just don't screw up," Victor finally responds, rising to leave, "that's all I have to say for now. I need some time."

"I understand," Leopold sighs in relief, "I hope we can get along Victor. I hate to be at such odd ends with you."

"I hope so too," Victor says as he exits, "seeing as you're likely to be my Step-father."

"I hope he'll learn to get along with him," Peter sighs, "fighting change doesn't help much. It just makes you feel more isolated."

December 8th, 1993.

"Happy Birthday," Adin yawns, "do we have quidditch today Damian?"

"Thanks," Damian replied, "oh, and we do. Jemma will kill us if we're late."

"I can't believe you're an official player now," Ellen stole the sausage from Damian's plate, "Adin's still in the reserves."

"Hush you,"  Adin scowls, "why are you so mean?"

"It's the only way to survive being friends with two guys," Ellen shrugged, "besides, I wasn't even being mean."

"Do you have the charms homework Damian?" Klara Castile, another classmate, asked, "I totally forgot about it. Can I look over yours?"

"I handed it in early," Damian apologized, "sorry Klara."

"He seems to have a healthy relationship with his classmates," Larissa smiles to herself, "good for him."

"Happy birthday Layla," Boaz Cartier approaches his cousin, "fourteen is a big year, isn't it?"

"It will be," Layla shovels her breakfast down, "thanks for the birthday wishes."

"Happy birthday Lay," Victor kisses his sister on the cheek, "how are you on this brilliant morning?"

"Good Vic," Layla put down her fork, and turned to face her brother, "we still on this afternoon?"

"Damian and I would never miss it," Victor's eyes soften when he looks at his sister. As they aged, Layla grew to look more and more like their mother by the minute. In addition to looking more like their mother, her hair darkened, the reddish tint becoming stronger. Her jade green eyes were especially reminiscent of their mother, especially when she smiled. 

"I know that," Layla looks up at her brother adoringly, "doesn't mean I can't ask."

"They're so cute," Molly Weasley couldn't help but coo, "oh Arthur, I really want a girl."

"Well these visions confirm that we have one," Arthur squeezes his wife's arm, "isn't that nice?"

"I suppose so," Molly's eyes shone, "I'm so excited Arthur! I'm sure she'll just be the sweetest."

"More like a tigress," Arthur mumbled to himself, "loving to family and vicious to enemies. Just like my Mollywobbles."

"Hey Granny," Damian says to the statue of the Flamels, "hey Grandpa. It's been awhile. We're fourteen now. We miss you loads. It's a shame that you missed out on meeting Maman's boyfriend. He's our potions teacher, and loves her very dearly. I hope that all will end well."

"You know they can't hear you," Layla sits beside her brother, "and they were content enough not to leave ghosts. Why do you speak to their statue? They left portraits behind, you can speak to them."

"It's just a way of getting things off my chest," Damian confesses, "I find it relieving. I see you have a bunch of presents. Who sent them?"

"This one is from the Scamanders," Layla held up a red package, "the striped one is from the Shacklebolts. The one in purple is from Cesare, and the one in green is from Newt and Tina."

"Sweet of them," Damian looked at his sister, "I got from all of them too. Except Cesare. Why'd he send you a gift?"

"Probably because we all hung out in the summer," Layla shrugged, "and I did try and help cure his mother. Doesn't really matter."

"I'm smelling some drama," Lyra leans on her little brother, "Daniel, how much do you want t-"

"Don't bother," Daniel sighs, "I'm not betting on that with you."

"Spoilsport," Lyra pouted, "but suit yourself."

"Hey," Victor finally arrived, "are we opening Maman's gift yet?"

"Sure," Damian pulled a nicely wrapped box out, "Leopold handed it to me earlier. Maman just owled us the cards this year."

"What do you think it is?" Layla shook the package, "I can't tell."

"Only one way to find out," Victor snapped his fingers, and the box opened, the items flying beside the three students.

"It's a necklace!" Layla cheered, grabbing the piece of jewelry from the air, "put it on for me Damian."

"Alright," Damian opened the clasps, and clasped it around Layla's neck, "here you go."

"It seems that Maman sent us watches," Victor handed the one with Damian carved into it to his brother, "it seems she wanted to bejewel us this year."

"Indeed," Damian smiled, "we have a great Maman, don't we?"

"We do," the other sibling intoned, and the three sat by their grandparents' statue, content with their lives. Nothing could ruin their peace now. Not when they had each other.

Chapter Text

December 21st, 1993.

"Are you three ready?" Leopold asked the triplets, "we'll be meeting your mother at the apparation point. I'd like not to make her wait."

"We're ready, Leopold," Layla smiled brightly, "I can't wait to see Maman. It's been months."

"We'll see her soon," Leopold promised, "now, we have to take the lift, so let's hurry and catch it before it leaves."

The four of them make it to the lift by mere seconds, and the lift brings them down the mountains and waterfalls, and to the city center. Larissa Greengrass awaits them anxiously, and sprints forward the moment she catches a glimpse of strawberry blonde.

"Kids!" She rushes forward to her children, who immediately fall into her embrace. Her boys were bigger than she remembered them ever being. Damian and Victor were gaining inches, and Damian was already two inches taller than her 5'6. Victor was a tad shorter, likely her own height if her estimation was right. Layla was tall as well, hitting 5'9 cleanly if she wasn't mistaken. She filled out excellently, her appearance every bit as beautiful as her mother, and even more so. Her boys were beginning to grow the start of beards and mustaches, something that made her heart clench. They were all growing up, too fast for her liking.

"They're all hitting puberty," Antiope smiled, "Layla looks absolutely gorgeous, and the boys are as dashing as ever. I'm sure they'll look wonderful in whatever Yule attire future Larissa purchased."

"She looks so much like Larissa," Silas smiled slightly, "and yet, she reminds me of someone else as well. Someone much different than her."

"I agree," Leanne observed, "we Greengrasses tend to be fair beauties. Layla seems to have a roughness to her. No Greengrass has those sharp edges to their cheekbones, no Greengrass has ever had a red tinge to their hair. Hers has long evolved from strawberry blonde. It's roaring red. Her beauty is evident, yet unlike ours, it's in your face. She's overwhelmingly beautiful, as are the boys."

"I see where you come from," Edmund examined his sister's future bastards, "they are very much their father's children, whoever he is. While they resemble Larissa immensely, it is increasingly obvious that they resemble their father as well."

"As much as I'm loving the love," Leopold interrupted, "don't we have a destination to get to?"

"Right," Larissa facepalmed, "thanks Leopold. Come along kids, one of you is going to apparate with Leopold, and I'll apparate with the other two."

"Dibs on Maman," the boys call before Layla can even open her mouth, "Layla's going with Leopold."

"Fine," Layla extended her hand, "are we ready to go yet?"

"Most certainly princess," Leopold grasped her hand, "hold on tight," With a spin of their heels, Larissa and Leopold side-apparate with the children.

"We've arrived," Leopold reappears in the Place Cachèe, "let's head to Maison Capenoir."

"Wha-" James voiced, before he was quickly interrupted.

"The clothing shop," Lillian answered, having anticipated the question, "they must be getting their Yule clothing done."

"Thanks," James sheepishly thanked the older girl, "I probably should have remembered that."

"It's no problem," Lillian shrugged, "I wouldn't expect you to remember."

"Bonjour," Larissa approached the saleslady, "we're here to be fitted for Yule attire. I made an appointment under the name Greengrass."

"A yes," the saleslady scanned her list, "right this way."

"Is Leopold also getting fitted, Maman?" Victor inquired curiously, "we've never matched with another person before."

"Well I thought it would be nice," Larissa tentatively suggested, "if it bothers you, I'm sure that Leopold wouldn't mind wearing something else."

"It's fine," Victor responded, surprising the couple, "I don't care."

"Seems Victor has accepted Leopold into the family," Larissa whispered to Lyra, "I hope that that means smooth sailing from there."

"Let's wish for that as well," Lyra squeezed her cousin's hand, "I'm sure you'll accept, and you'll have a marvelous wedding, with all of us in attendance."

"What colors would you like this year?" Larissa asked the children, "the styles have already been narrowed down to three options, but colors are yours to pick. You can all get the same shade and accents, or different shades with matching accents. Whichever is preferable to you three, Leopold and I will follow."

"Let's do matching accents," Layla answered after having a silent conversation with her brothers, "I'll do a plum purple. Or maybe a grape"

"Navy blue," Victor announced his choice, "Damian, want to match?"

"Sure," Damian shrugged, "how about Maman wears navy with us and Leopold matches Layla in purple?"

"Fine by me," Layla turns to her mother's boyfriend, "are you alright with that?"

"Sounds fabulous," Leopold smiles, "let's get these fittings over with. Tailoring can be so boring."

"He seems to be a genuine man," Filius Flitwick smiled, "it's nice to see one of my students so happy. After all the tragedy endured, a happy occasion is just what someone needs."

"Agreed," Minerva sighs, "if only our students would keep us informed of their actions more often. I always wonder what happens to them."

December 24th, 1993.

"Nervous?" Larissa asked her boyfriend, who kept tying and untying his tie, "they're not going to hurt you you know." Larissa was stunning in her Yule robes. The robes were well formed, and fit her like a glove. The navy blue material suited her incredibly, the intricate roses bringing out a more innocent feel to the dress. Her dark hair was slightly curled, and her jade eyes were glimmering with excitement.

"I know, I know," Leopold focused on her, taking in all her beauty, "can't blame me for being a tad nervous though." Leopold was wearing the purple robes they had bought, and his bright blond hair stood out as usual. His own green eyes, colored like the stem of a rose, were full of adoration for the woman he had grown to love.

"How do I look?" Layla twirled in front of them, "the purple definitely suits me." Layla wasn't lying at that. Her roaring hair, once only tinted by red, was let loose. Her brothers had woven pearl adornments in the curls for her, and the necklace her mother had gifted her for her birthday was on full display. The purple dress robes were more of a wine red, and flowed like water, especially in comparison to her mother's more stiff robes.

"She looks incredible," Larissa gaped at her daughter, "my own daughter looks like that."

"Stunning," Larissa kissed her daughter's forehead, "where are your brothers?"

"We're here," Damian and Victor sauntered in, dressed impeccably in navy, "how much longer until we floo over to Antiope, Maman?"

"We'll head over now," Larissa gestured for the boys to head to the floo, "you kids go first."

As soon as the children arrived, they were greeted by the entire Delancy extended family. Knowing that Larissa was bringing her boyfriend to the party, they were anxiously awaiting their presence.

"Pleasure to see you three," Antiope kissed her great-nephews and great-niece on the cheeks, "where's my niece?"

"Maman's on her way," Victor answered their great-aunt, "she should be here with Leopold any minute."

"So her boyfriend's name is Leopold," Ansel Cartier stroked his beard, "very well. We'll have to see if he's worthy of Rissa."

"I sense that Larissa and your future husband are rather close," Lyra told her sister Lillian, "he seems particularly invested in her happiness. They also have a fun dynamic."

"I'm happy then," Lillian smiles, "it's always nice when family gets along."

"He makes her happy," Damian says, "shouldn't that be enough?"

"Here they come," Lyra interrupts before Ansel can answer. Leopold's form appears in the fireplace, and Larissa follows seconds later.

"Why are you crowding the floo area?" Larissa raises an eyebrow as she exits the floo, "let's move to the dining hall."

"I didn't think you were into blondes," Clarene bumped her hip into her cousin's as they walked towards the dining hall, "nor did I think you'd end up with one of my old classmates."

"Fate is an interesting thing," Larissa responds mysteriously, lip twitching, "don't think too hard about it."

"We'll be taking Rissa with us," Serena Beaumont looped her arm with Larissa's, "you men entertain Larissa's date. We need to have some important girl talk."

"As you wish my dear wife," Connor Beaumont bowed dramatically, "come along men, let's escort the good man to our normal spot. We'll have a talk with him there."

"Let's see how we handle this," Daniel rubbed his hands together gleefully, "I hope it's good."

"I see you already swayed the kids," Ajax Abello-Delancy opened, "you're matching our lovely Layla. It hasn't escaped our eye."

"Damian suggested it," Leopold suggested, his hands twitching nervously. He remembered well the warning that Jacob Scamander had given him in the summer.

"That kid is the purest," Marius Monet shakes his head fondly, "a true diamond."

"Well he was raised by Larissa," Leopold points out, "she's incredibly kind. Why would her son be any different?"

"He's good," Ansel begrudgingly whispered to Austin Borier, "what exactly did we have planned for this shovel talk?"

"You're not supposed to talk about the shovel talk in front of the victim Ansel," Austin berated his younger brother-in-law, "though I agree. From the way the kids speak of him, he seems to be alright. We'll have to get him drunk. Men are at their most honest when they're deep in alcohol."

"That is such an Austin thing to say," Clarene watched the vision of the man she had been pining over fondly, "I'm glad to see he hasn't completely changed."

"These are the people Scamander warned me about?" Leopold whispered to himself, unnoticed by the arguing brother-in-laws, "he was much more intimidating than any of them have been."

Meanwhile, Larissa was being grilled for all the details by her cousins. 

"Where did you meet him?" Guenevive prodded, "when?"

"I met him when I was dropping off the kids," Larissa answered, "and it was sometime before Nicholas and Perenelle died. We made an arrangement for after that summer, and we had a cafe date sometime that October."

"Oh," Guenevive pouted, "I'd been hoping that there'd be more to it."

"There's not much really to say," Larissa told her cousins, "it's rather domestic actually. We go on dates, chill, and hang out with the kids. Nothing too crazy."

"They like him then," Freeda Delancy sighed in relief, "I was worried for them. It's a hard adjustment to have someone else in the picture. Damian was encouraging, wasn’t he? He's quite the sweetheart. However, I'm certain Victor and Layla gave him a harder time."

"They did," Larissa agreed, "and Damian was easy going. You know he's accepting Freeda. He was the first to get close with you, wasn't he?"

"And we've had a special bond ever since," Freeda nodded, "you're right. Damian is incredibly flexible and accommodating. If you marry this Leopold, then I'm sure he'll be the first to embrace him as a step-father."

"So my wife is especially close with Damian," Daniel noted, "that's sweet."

"I'm sure that will be sooner than you think," Larissa blushed, "I've seen the ring three times already. He's incredibly bad at keeping secrets. I think he's waiting to get all of your approvals before he asks."

"WHAT?!" the cousins shriek, and Larissa simply laughs at it all. It was nice to see them all so supportive of her and Leopold.

Chapter Text

"I didn't know Auntie Larissa was dating Monsieur Leopold," Estelle Borier-Delancy confronted her cousins, "how come you didn't tell?" Estelle, two years older and sixteen, was tall with a fae-like beauty, sporting beautiful bronze hair and bluish purple eyes. She resembled her grandmother, Antiope, the most out of all the woman's nineteen grandchildren. Her special eyes, a trademark of the Borier family, were gifted with the ability to see magic itself. That's why many spell-crafters and curse-breakers came from the Borier family, as they were uniquely able to see the tendrils of magic that spells and curses were made up of.

"Yeah," Freya, the girl's younger sister pouted, "I put money on him dating Jenny's sister. It would have been nice to know." The blonde gave her cousins a rather cross look, her silvery blue eyes pinning them with her harsh stare.

"We won't apologize for respecting our mother's wishes," Damian answered firmly, facing Freya's silver eyes with his own jade ones, "but we will apologize for the hurt you are feeling because of that decision. I understand it is frustrating, and we are sorry to have put you in such a position."

"I will never get over this boy's maturity," Euphemia laughed in good nature, "he's a breath of fresh air."

"I feel like we should be offended," James mumbled to Sirius, who immediately agreed with his brother. Euphemia was definitely directing that subtle critique to them.

"You're too mature," the fifteen year old girl threw her hands up in frustration, "I can't be mad at you for very long."

"Do you like him?" Isaac, the only boy of the Borier-Delancy children, inquired, "he's okay in school, but he can be very different outside of the classroom."

"He's a nice guy," Victor shrugged, "doesn't mean I haven't struggled to accept him as my mother's boyfriend. I thought it was cool in the beginning, but as they got closer, it got really weird."

"Sucks," Boaz Cartier sympathized with Victor, "how long has this been going on?"

"Since last year," Layla answers this time, "though I'm not exactly sure when they started dating. All I know is that Maman is happy. And if she's happy with him, why should I care? All three of us liked him as a teacher before, so why should that change now that he's dating our Mom?"

"Seems as if they've finally come to terms with the situation," Lyra commented, a blonde brow raised, "good."

"Speaking of him being a teacher," Boaz redirected the conversation, "Izzy, he'll be your teacher come next year. Now's the chance to get on his good side!"

"That's exactly my plan," Izzy sarcastically responded, "I'm going to dedicate my time to win over the notoriously easy to get along with teacher, and expend precious energy in brown nosing. Definitely sounds like an excellent idea brother mine."

"That's my boy!" Lillian cheered, "wait, they're both my boys? Which one should I be supporting? The one with the epic retort, or the one who just got all his bravado torn away?"

"I don't know Lils," Daniel sighed, "if you're going to decide though, please keep it to yourself. The less noise, the less those weird Blacks will look at us."

"They're still staring?" Lillian was surprised, "I thought they gave up ages ago."

As the two siblings had noticed, the Black family was carefully observing the Delancy siblings, desperate for any connection they could possibly make with Larissa Greengrass.

"What if we marry Regulus off to one of the Greengrass girls?" Walburga suggested, "the younger one would probably be better, as the older of the two sisters seems not to be too pleased with her older sister."

"Not a bad suggestion," Orion considered his wife's words, "we wouldn't have much of another option if we want to connect our two families. Besides, there has yet to be a marriage into the Greengrass family. It could be fresh, yet pure blood. The match is so perfect, I can't believe we hadn't seen it earlier."

"Think of amenities to offer Lord Greengrass," Arcturus instructed his son, "I'd like to obtain a deal as soon as we're out of here. The girl seems to be about four years Regulus' junior. A betrothal would likely be the best contract to offer, with a wedding months after graduation."

"A wedding," Melania sighed dreamily, "it's been awhile since we've had one in our family. I hope to see our Regulus as a husband soon. He's of excellent stock, so even if the Greengrass contract won't work out, I'm sure there are other eligible pureblood girls waiting for his hand."

Regulus watched his family discuss his fate, not once even considering his feelings. Is this why Sirius grew so jaded with their family? Did he too feel this horrible feeling in his gut? He was only in his fourth year, and Leanne Greengrass was in her first. Even if they ended up choosing Gloria, his own grade mate, it still wouldn't be fair, as he was completely unattracted to her. He felt horrible for thinking this, he was a good pureblood boy, but was this truly just?

The brother-in-laws finally pull themselves together, and get back to threatening Leopold.

"Larissa is like a sister to me," Ansel threatened, his bulky German (really half-Russian) self towering over Leopold, "if even a sliver of a crack appears on her heart because of you, they won't be able to pry you from my grasp."

Leopold was suddenly understanding the warning that Jacob Scamander had given him. The Delancys could be pleasant enough, but mess with one of their own, and you were digging your own grave.

"Now, now," Ajax Abello-Delancy smirked, "we wouldn't want you to go to prison for the hypothetical vermin that would break Rissa's heart. We'd simply get him put in prison. I'm a rather dab hand at forging and even better at acting. I can frame a person for any crime in my sleep. Should he hurt my cousin, I wi-"

"That jerk is as smug as ever," Guenevive fumed, before calming down, "at least it's on Rissa's behalf this time."

"Abello certainly grew up well," Serena nudged her sister, a teasing grin on her face, "are you sure he's not attractive at all?"

"His pretty face isn't the problem," Guenevive got all frazzled, her face puffing up in anger, "it's his horrible arrogance that bothers me."

"Daddy!" Dorea Abello-Delancy tramples into Ajax's feet mid threat, blonde hair ruffled and out of its pigtails, "Lucas is being mean. He pulled my hair and said my bows were stupid and for babies." Ajax instantly stops his threat to Leopold, his entire being dedicated to his daughter

"Get your kid under control Connor," Ajax hissed at his brother-in-law, bending down to fix Dorea's hair, "it's alright Dorea. I'm sure Lucas didn't mean to hurt your feelings. He's just feeling insecure because you're so pretty today. Seven year olds have a hard time regulating their emotions."

"Is no one else amused at how he stopped mid-threat to re-tie his daughter's hair?" Marlene asked her friends, "it's such iconic behavior."

"More like good dad behavior," Lily countered, "but yes, it is rather funny."

"But I'm seven," Dorea protested, her big brown eyes welling with tears, "and I can regitate my emotions."

"Regulate," Ajax corrected, wiping his daughter's tears away gently, "and you're just more emotionally in tune. Studies do show that girls have a higher emotional intelligence, love. Basically, it means that you're better at knowing your feelings. I'm sure Lucas will apologize soon."

"Why is he talking to the kid as if she's an adult?" Leanne questioned her cousin's husband's parenting skills, "is he stupid?"

"No," Guenivive instantly rose to the man's defense, ignoring her sibling's giggles behind her, "he's parenting her excellently thank you very much. If he speaks to her maturely, then she'll have a better vocabulary as a teen and adult. I'm sorry you couldn't comprehend that little cousin."

"I'm sorry for having an opinion," Leanne sneered, "but thanks for the unnecessary lecture. Save your words for someone who cares."

"I'll go talk to him now," Connor promised his little niece, "do you want to come with me?"

"Okay," Dorea hesitantly took her uncle's offered hand, and left to go find Lucas Beaumont.

"Where was I?" Ajax wondered aloud, before recalling where he'd left his threat, "should you hurt my cousin Monsieur Arquette, I will have you tossed to England's dementors. Step carefully my friend."

Leopold was thoroughly frightened by the younger man. He was almost thirty four, six years younger than his own forty, yet he was casually threatening him with a blank face. Larissa had said that Ajax was a gentle soul! This soul was not gentle!

"Chill out Ajax," Daniel rolled his eyes, "we're here to feel the guy out, not send him running. Rissa would never forgive us if we chased away the person she's chosen."

"Always the mediator," Marius Monet shook his head fondly, rocking his newborn daughter Gisele in his arms, "sorry about his enthusiasm Monsieur Arquette. Ajax has always been a wild card, even when we were still in school. His and Guenivive's rows were famous, the two of them at each other's throats for majority of their school years. Everyone but Daniel and my wife Lyra was surprised when they got together a year after graduating."

"Enemies to lovers," Elena Prewett smiled fondly, "how beautiful love is. It even creeps into the most hateful of places."

"No problem," Leopold finally found his voice, "I've already gotten the talk from Jacob Scamander. He warned me that you all would be much worse."

"Scamander?" Austin Borier inquired, perplexed at why the famous name was brought up, "what does Rissa have to do with the Scamanders?"

"They're friends," Leopold replied, slightly confused by their relationship himself, "at least I think they are. I know the kids are definitely friends with his kids. Layla stayed by them in the summer, and when we went to pick her up, he warned me not to hurt Larissa. Then he told me that if I thought he was bad, then the Delancys were going to be much worse."

"With all the threatening out of the way," Daniel grinned mischievously, "ought we show Rissa's date how we party?"

"You bet," his brother-in-laws grinned in turn, "Yule is never boring here."

"Before that," Leopold hastily interrupts, "I have something I need to say.

"I wish Damian could see this," Antiope wept quietly, "he'd be just as happy as I am to see our family happy and healthy."

"I miss him too," Clarene comforted her mother, "Daddy always did say that family is the most precious treasure one can possess. Let us cherish it while we still can."

"Cheers to that," Serena joined her older sister in comforting their mother, "Daddy would be proud of us all. Let's be happy in his memory, shall we?"

"We shall," Antiope smiled wetly at her daughter's, "we will always live to make the next day happier than the last."

"Before that," Leopold hastily interrupts, "I have something I need to say."

"Go on," Austin arched a brow, signaling the other brother-in-laws to listen, "we're listening."

"I'm going to ask Larissa to marry me," Leopold bluntly said, "tonight. I was going to wait a little longer, but I can sense that she's already figured me out. I thought I'd let you all know."

Silence occupied the little corner the men occupied, before Austin let out a cheer. The children, all sitting around a table, glanced at their rowdy uncle momentarily, before deciding that it was nothing too abnormal, and turned away.

"Go for it," Austin clapped Leopold on the back, "we've honestly just been messing with you-" at Ajax's pointed look, he added, "except for Ajax. Rissa's told us a lot about you, not by name, but we all liked you enough based on her stories. Mostly, we like that you make her feel safe and cherished. If you want to ask, you have our approval, though I doubt you care much for it regardless."

"Austin," Clarene called his name fondly, "he really is the best."

"I know she wants it," was all Leopold had to say in response. After his declaration, his, hopefully, cousins-to-be, took him to get drinks. Leopold had to say, when they weren't threatening him, they were incredibly entertaining.

"How was it?" Larissa asked her boyfriend as they sat on her couch later that night. The triplets were already in bed, had been so for the last hour, and the two of them had only just gotten to get some alone time.

"It was nice," Leopold answered, "they're as fun and good-hearted as you said. That Ajax fellow was intimidating though. Totally softie when it came to his daughter, monster when it came to describing what he'd do if I broke your heart."

"You haven't and won't break it," Larissa squeezed his hand reassuringly, "all you've ever done is mend it."

"How romantic," Molly Weasley gushed to her husband, "look Arthur!"

"I see Molly," Arthur looked lovingly at her, "it's very romantic."

"Lovesick fool," the Prewett twins muttered under their breaths.

"I don't need to ask, do I?" Leopold suddenly says, looking at her with a certain look in his eyes, "you already know."

"You're a horrible secret keeper," Larissa whispered softly, "and my answer is yes. Let's get a nice good look at the pretty ring. I've only seen glances so far." Leopold pulled out the ring, a beautiful silver band with a stunning yellow topaz, Larissa's favorite jewel, in the center. 

"I love you," the two say in unison, and Layla, who had snuck out of bed to get chocolate, smiles to herself. A new chapter of their lives had just opened.

Chapter Text

December 28th, 1993

The next day, Leopold and Larissa took the kids to ice cream, preparing to have a serious conversation with them.

"What's this all about Maman?" Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "you normally don't take us out to ice cream. Spill."

"We just wanted to discuss the wedding with you," Larissa assured her son, "nothing more than that."

"I forgot that getting married involves a wedding to be honest," Larissa  rubs the back of her head sheepishly, "that was rather stupid of me."

"I'm sure your wedding will be stunning," Serena squeezed her cousin's hand reassuringly, "I can't wait to see you in a dress.  You're one of the prettiest people I know, so I'm sure you'll look dazzling."

"Thanks Ree," Larissa squeezed back. Serena was her closest cousin, the two of them being born only three months apart. They had grown up playing together, the visits from the French Delancys being one of the highlights of her childhood. 

"Oh," Damian blushed in embarrassment, "do go on then."

"We've decided on an August wedding," Leopold began, gauging the reaction of the triplets. The triplets simply glanced at each other, before refocusing their attention on their stepfather-to-be.

"We hope that you all will participate in the wedding party," Larissa told her children, yet lingering beneath the surface, the children could tell there was something that she was holding back, wrestling with herself to decide whether to tell or not.

"Is there anything specific you want us to do?" Victor probed gently, not wanting to startle his mother. "You can tell us anything."

"I was thinking," Larissa began, but then quickly cut herself off, "no, it's stupid. Never mind you three."

"We want to hear what you have to say," Layla voiced the sentiment that she and her brothers felt, "just tell us what you want. We want to make you happy on your big day."

 "Why is their family standing together?" Regulus Black couldn't help but feel jealous. These three children were of lesser blood than him, filthy bastards, yet they seemed more powerful, more confident than him. How was it possible that a blood traitor could be having more success than any Black in their generation? How was it possible that a weak woman, unable to prevent herself from rape, had more standing and happiness than himself? 

Regulus didn't understand where all the promises Mother, Father, Grandfather, and Grandfather had made had gone. Had they not promised that they, the Noble and Ancient House of Black, would reign supreme under the Dark Lord's benevolent rule? They had soothed his queasiness surrounding the murder and war the death eaters created, swearing that very soon, the Age of Wizards would arise, and they would be able to rule unbridled. That they were going to set things right, put the world back in its natural order. These visions have only shown the Dark Lord's death as a balm to the chaos that their world had mired in for the last decade. How come peace only came when their savior was gone?

Regulus had a lot of questions, so many that they were beginning to flood his head. Why were they purebloods better? Had that Mudblood that Potter was infatuated with, Lily something, not proven that mudbloods weren't lacking power? For Salazar's sake! She was responsible for the Dark Lord's demise! A mudblood! Who truly was the Dark Lord anyways? Regulus had been brought up learning and memorizing the family trees of all the pureblood families over the years, even ones who had died out. So how could a person with an illustrious background like being Slytherin's heir, remain unknown?

They had taken his parselmouth abilities as a proof, but Regulus knew there were other parlemouths in the world. How did they know the Dark Lord was Slytherin's heir anyways? He must remember to ask his grandfather. There had to be a rational explanation. Otherwise, why would so many people of illustrious backgrounds and intelligence support him. Sure, he was powerful, but anyone educated in magic and politics knows that a leader is nothing without a following. What exactly was it that he was missing? Maybe, if he figured that out, he could rid himself of these pesky doubts.

"I want you boys to walk me down the aisle," Larissa finally blurted her wish out loud, and her sons froze in place. Larissa observed them anxiously, worried that she had frightened them off. It would be unconventional, as normally the father or father-figure of the bride would take that place. Had Nicholas still been around, Larissa would have instantly asked him, but that wasn't an option. She had wondered and pondered over who she would ask, as she honestly didn't have anyone she thought fit that role. 

She had considered breaking the norms and asking Antiope to walk her down the aisle. Antiope was one of her only grounding pillars during the most trying years of her life. In fact, she was the very first person to help her all those years ago, the only one of her family to help. Yet it simply didn't feel right. The person walking her down the aisle was supposed to represent giving her away, joining her into another family, expanding her family into something more. It was a sign of approval and acceptance, showing that that person trusted the groom to take care of her and love her.

It was then that she had decided. Who better to give her away than her boys? Who better than the people who depended on her, who loved her more than anyone ever had before Leopold came along. Who better than the people that had urged her to be her best, the people who pushed her to survive and thrive? Layla was always going to be her maid of honor, she'd have no one else, yet she hadn't thought of what she wanted her sons to do. The minute the idea popped in her head, she began to desire it deeply. She knew her boys might not want to do it, they were teenagers who could feel uncomfortable in such a scenario. She certainly wasn't expecting them to react the way they did.

"Of course we will Maman," Damian answered, his eyes slightly teary, "I can't believe you asked us to. Can you believe this Vic? We're going to walk Maman down the aisle!"

"I know!" Victor's eyes sparkled and he couldn't keep the massive grin off his face. "Stuff it Layla!"

"Hey!" Layla protested, quickly asking their mother, "What can I do? I cannot leave everything to those stinky boys."

"Incredibly supportive children," Professor Slughorn smiled to himself. He was glad that his quiet former student had such loving and adoring children in the future. This whole viewing thing had made him question his own deductive skills. He had always prided himself on being able to spot talent, to gather and flatter the best of the best connections. Yet, he had managed to overlook a, now obvious, glittering gem. Larissa Greengrass so splendidly changed the world, yet in a subtle and refined way. He had noticed, not that others with less keen eyes would, that things in Larissa's workshops, which he had caught glimpses of throughout the visions, had made their way into the day-to-day lives of witches and wizards.

He'd noticed her wand holsters on the hips of students and teachers throughout the children's years at Beauxbatons. He noticed the gift she had given her children in their first year, a pendant in which marbles filled with memories could be replayed, had slowly integrated itself in the general public. He assumed that she eventually had mass produced or commercialized the artifact, and it was incredible to see something that his student had made so effortlessly permeate the lives of regular folk. He remembered the book she had written, likely to be an incredible masterpiece, and wondered how in Merlin's name he had glossed over a talented prodigy like her.

"I intend for you to be my maid of honor, Layla," Larissa placated her daughter, who instantly perked up at the revelation of her role. Leopold simply smiled at the whole ordeal. He was glad that his family, this perfect group of people he adored, got along. They may not officially be family yet, he hadn't received that honor and privilege yet, but he had mere months until he'd attain it.

April 14th, 1994.

Spring break had the triplets home with Larissa, and the four of them had decided to go on a short vacation. Larissa took her beloved children to Biarritz, a small beach town, and rented lovely property right on the beach.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Layla shouted as she sprinted into the water, her red curls flowing behind her.

"Slow down Lay-Lay," Damian rushed after her, his glasses falling off his face in the process, "you she-devil!"

"Play nice," Larissa called from her beach chair, "I don't want any fights." 

"They're so good looking it's overwhelming," Marlene whispered to Mary, "why are those kids speeding their way through puberty?"

"They definitely have good genetics," Mary whispered back, "just look at their relatives."

Mary wasn't wrong. The Greengrass siblings were all incredibly good-looking, especially their daughters. Amongst the sea of blonde, Larissa, Edmund, and Edgar stood out, sporting thick, black hair. Leanne Greengrass was definitely the most beautiful of them all, possessing an almost angelic beauty that made others around her envious. The twelve year old was incredibly charming as well, strengthening her position in the pureblood circles. In fact, the entirety of the school called her Slytherin's angel, as she was deceptively innocent looking. With wheat blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, and freckles cutely adorning her face, she was seen simply as an angelic beauty. Leanne was no simple beauty, and her sorting into Slytherin had nothing to do with blood or wishes. She was as cunning as a snake, and her reputation in school would allow her to get away with many nasty schemes.

Gloria wasn't too far from her sister in terms of beauty. Her hair was blonde as well, though its shade was far closer to brown than Leanne's was. Her eyes weren't the jade green of her older sister, nor were they the cornflower blue of her younger sister. Hers were a beautiful yet intoxicating turquoise, and they were her most defining feature. She was a little over average height, and her figure was much more mature than most of her classmates. She always wore her hair in intricate braids, and her very countenance screamed elegance and maturity, However, her personality was nothing like her appearance, and she was constantly outdone by her little sister.

Edmund and Silas were only a year apart, and looked nearly identical. Both had the same blue eyes as their youngest sister, both were tall and wiry, and both had sharp noses. The only difference in their appearance was their hair colors, as Silas sported a similar shade to his younger sister Gloria.

Stefan looked the most like their mother of all the children, with Larissa coming a close second. He had a rounded face, blond curls, and jade green eyes. He was the shortest of his siblings, yet the most muscular of them all, having played quidditch during his school years and training under Voldemort's men. He was soon to be married, to Selena Rosier, whom he had become engaged to due to mutual attraction. He, of all the siblings, resembled his now estranged sister Larissa the most.

Larissa was sitting with a notebook on her lap, and Victor was curiously looking over her shoulder. As he read, his eyes widened, and he immediately called for his siblings.

"You wouldn't believe this," he shouted, gesturing for them to join him and their mother, "Maman's studying to be an animagus!"

"That's wonderful," Professor McGonagall beamed, "although I will say, it's an incredibly daunting task. I truly hope you are prepared for it."

"Thank you," Larissa quietly accepted the compliment, "I'm sure my older self took that into consideration."

"No way," Layla pushed past her brother to get a glimpse of her mother's notes, "Maman, can we please do it with you?"

"Absolutely not," Larissa firmly replied, "it's an incredibly risky process, and I will not have my underage children undergo it."

"But it'll be safe if we do it with you," Layla insisted, "besides, what other chance would we get to do it with you? You can only do it once."

"Yeah," Victor agreed with his sister, "the Japanese have fourteen year olds do it all the time, and they don't have you to guide them. You're worth like six of their teachers."

"Only six?" Larissa raised her eyebrows teasingly, "though I get your point. Perhaps I'll consider it. Although, if I were, I would have to get ministerial approval first."

"So do that," Damian excitedly told his mother, "it can be so fun! Imagine us all transforming together. What do you think I'd be?"

"I can't believe they're really going to do that," McGonagall was muttering to herself, "although they do seem to have the talent. Perhaps I ought not to worry."

"These children are going to be incredible," Elladora Lestrange whispered to her husband, "oh, if only we had grandchildren to marry off to them. Despite their bastard status, they seem to be pureblooded. They could be incredible assets."

"Unfortunately our son and daughter-in-law don't seem too keen on reproducing," Rudolph pointed out, "and Rabastan cannot get married until the Dark Lord approves of a bride. The Dark Lord has already told me he has his eye on a girl from the Selwyn family for him. He said there were a few more considerations to be made, but who knows how long that will take?"

Similar discussions were taking place between Abraxas and Lucinda Malfoy. Their children weren't bystanders though. Narcissa insisted that she would never allow her son to marry a bastard, no matter the power. Lucius agreed with his wife, saying that blood was more important. 

Larissa, on the other hand, was simply proud of her children, and happy that she'd get to have such an experience with them.

"We'll have to wait and see," Larissa smiled, and the children ran off to play, content with their new plans.

Chapter Text

J uly 28th, 1994.

"When are they coming?" Layla tapped her foot impatiently, "I haven't seen Flora in forever. When are the Scamanders and Shacklebolts getting here?"

"Their flight is due to arrive any minute Sweetie," Larissa placated her daughter, "you won't have to wait too long."

"Who are you most excited to see?" Victor asked Layla, "Selena and Rolf or Yusuf and Flora?"

"Don't ask hard questions," Layla pouted, before answering, "Selena and Rolf."

"Clearly not as hard as she made it out," Remus laughed, "it's clear she plays favorites."

"Ouch," a deep voice called, "I'm insulted Layla. You like my baby cousins more?"

"Yusuf!" Layla sprinted, running to hug the older boy, who immediately swung her around,  "it's so nice to see you."

"We weren't going to miss this wedding," Leta Shacklebolt said, walking with the rest of the family, "a vacation to France and a wedding? Count us in."

"Oi Yusuf!" Rolf called, "put Layla down. My turn to give hugs."

"Rolf!" Layla embraced her friend, "I'm thrilled that you guys were willing to come."

"How were your OWLs?" Victor asked Yusuf, making conversation, "I hear they can get really bad."

"They were alright," Yusuf shrugged, "though I still don't know my scoring. It's sort of nerve wracking, waiting for a response."

"I get the feeling," Lily sympathized, "the hardest part of taking them is waiting for the results."

"Thank you for inviting us," Esmerelda Scamander said to Larissa, "it's a true honor to attend your wedding."

"The wedding won't be for another week," Larissa laughed, "but in reality, I owe you a thank you for coming. I sent the invitation hoping you'd come, but to be honest, I wasn't completely sure you would. We aren't particularly close."

"Well the kids certainly are," Esmerelda points out, "and we share a close connection. All of our lives were touched by Nicholas and Perenelle."

"You're right," Larissa nods, "we ought to go now. I'll show you to the place I've arranged for you all."

"Come along Jacob," Esmerelda called for her spouse, "and you too Gregory. Let's not make Larissa wait."

"Coming," Jacob called, coming to kiss his wife on the cheek, "lead the way Larissa."

"You certainly picked good people to befriend," Fleamont told Larissa kindly, "the Scamander family members are amongst some of the most warm hearted people I know."

"They are," James agreed, "especially Uncle Newt. He's a lovable dork if we're being honest."

"Definitely a dork," Sirius smirked, "I have never seen a grown man that excited over a drawing of a niffler."

August 12th, 1994.

"Hold still," Lyra Monet clucked her tongue as she tried to adjust Larissa's hair, "I can't get it right if you keep fidgeting."

"Sorry Lyra," Larissa apologized, settling down, "I'm just a little antsy."

"No need to be," Guenevive reassured her cousin, "it'll be a piece of cake. You're a gorgeous and talented bride, so unlike others, you don't need to worry."

"Vivie's right," Clarene smiled at her younger cousin who, over the years, has felt more like another sister. "You're absolutely radiant. No need to flip out."

The women weren't wrong. Larissa looked stunning, dressed in a long, white wedding gown. The gown was cream in color, with gold accentuating the framework of the dress beautifully. The dress was off the shoulder, and the top was made of pearls and gold thread, painstakingly weaved by a master seamstress. The skirt had many layers, and had flowers sewn elegantly on the top layer. Larissa's dark hair was halfway pinned up in a ponytail with the remaining locks curled and pressed to the side, with carefully woven pearl and diamond adornments adorning her curls.

"Gosh," Marlene McKinnion gaped at the screen, "what a pretty woman. They might be pretentious, but those Greengrasses are lookers."

"That's one lucky guy," Gideon Prewett commented to his sister, "ey Molly?"

"You're not wrong," Molly shrugged at her brother, "the girl's a beauty."

"She's definitely not ugly," Bellatrix gave a backhanded compliment, unwilling to compliment a blood traitor, "must come from the Greengrasses. Or is it from the Delancy family? What do you think, Rabastan?"

"Likely the Delancys," Rabastan tore his eyes away from the vision, "she looks most like them."

"I see it," Rodolphus quickly scanned the Delancys and then Larissa, "I concur with your observation, Rabastan."

"Where's Layla?" Larissa worried, glancing around the room for her daughter, "I could have sworn she was sitting with Dorea there moments ago."

"I think she went to go find the Scamander girl," Lillian calmed the worried mother, "although, as maid of honor, she really ought to be here."

"Actually," Antiope entered the room, elegantly dressed in green, "I sent Layla to go check on the groom's side. I believe it's almost time."

"It's time, Great-Aunt Antiope!" Layla rushed into the room, her sage green dress flowing as she ran, "Victor and Damian are right outside."

"I'm coming," Larissa stood, wobbling slightly due to the heels, "it's show time."

Silas Greengrass had mixed feelings as he watched his older sister walk down the aisle, her two sons escorting her to the altar. He loved his big sister, he knew that as an absolute fact. His mother and father had always preached love and care towards one's siblings, and how one must always strive to keep the family image intact, not just for your own sake, but your siblings'. Yet somehow, in the near future, they would throw Larissa away heartlessly, and force her to run to others who would care for her. Why? What was so important about having a child in marriage that it was worth harming his beloved sister? He knew that he would always follow his parents, they knew far better than him what was right in this scenario, yet deep in his heart, Silas knew he'd always cherish his sister. Always, deep in the crevices of his soul, he'd want to keep Larissa with them.

"You look stunning Maman," Damian whispered as they walked down the aisle towards Leopold and his father at the altar, "I'm so happy to be doing this for you."

"Me too," Victor chimed in from the other side of her, "we love you Maman."

"I love you too my boys," Larissa responded, eyes tearing up, "always be this good, 'kay?"

"Promise," the two boys swore in sync, "we'll stay good."

As Larissa stepped up to the altar, Leopold's eyes met hers. She beamed at him, and he beamed right back.

The wedding passed quickly, the two sealing their vows with a kiss. After the ceremony was completed, the guests burst into a roaring applause.

The current Larissa watched the future version of herself marry, and her eyes softened. She knew that it would not happen in this timeline, as she would not be following this future at all. The triplets would never be born, she'd never go to France, and she'd never intern under Nicholas Flamel. No. She'd live a quiet, secluded life, and never allow these events to come to pass.

"Rissa!" Ansel Cartier pounced on her after all was finished, "congratulations!"

"Thanks," Larissa wiped a tear of happiness from her eye, "I'm so happy right now Ansel."

"We're happy for you," Lillian Delancy smiled from beside her husband, "now, come along dearest Rissa. Let's go dance."

"Maman!" the triplets rush to their mother, each attempting to be her first dance, "dance with me."

"How about you all dance together?" Leopold suggested, "and then I'll dance with my lovely wife."

"I like that idea," Larissa extended her hands to her children, "let's dance, my loves."

"So adorable," Euphemia Potter cooed, "it makes me so happy to see."

August 27th, 1994.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Victor raised an eyebrow, "I know we brewed it carefully, but still." Thunder clapped behind them, and Damian was jittery, having always feared the thunder.

"I'm positive it will work," Larissa reassured her son, "now, remember, we must recite the incantation once more. Say it with me. Amato Animo Animato Animagus"

"Amato Animo Animato Animagus," the children repeat after her, tip of their wands on their hearts. The four then drink a shimmering potion.

"They're doing the animagus process!" Peter Pettigrew's eyes widened, remembering his own experience, "and they're not even fourth years! That's incredible."

"Absolutely marvelous," Minerva McGonagall gave her stamp of approval, "they are doing it flawlessly."

The four immediately feel the double heartbeat entering them, and an image of their soul self flashes. The four felt a change in their bodies, and without further warning, they began to shift.

In Damian's place stood a majestic eagle, feathers soft and eyes sharp. His glasses formed an outline around his eyes, his identifying mark.

In Layla's place stood a magnificent leopard, poised to react at a moment's notice. A small birthmark under her ear remained, identifying her as Layla Greengrass.

In Victor's place was a mysterious crow, black feathers shiny and smooth. His stormy eyes were all that gave his identity away. 

In Larissa's place was an elegant dove, white feathers and wings delicate on her body. An old scar, a large slash, remained on her back, allowing her to be recognized.

"That fits," Melania Black mused, "the girl was always fierce and independent, the dark haired one was always quieter and more introspective, his older brother being the bold and courageous one. The mother's greatest wish was for peace, so it suits her to be a dove."

"Now we must see if they can turn back," Arcturus paid sharp attention, "this is incredibly useful information."

"That was awesome," Layla quickly shifted back, amazed by how her body was able to switch so quickly, "come on, hurry up and transform back."

"Stop nudging," Damian groaned as his wings pressed into his back as he shifted, "it's only our first time. It takes adjustment."

"Yeah Layla," Victor's dark feather's returned into his dark locks, "don't be rude."

"Calm down children," Larissa's dark locks returned, no more white feathers, "I'm so incredibly proud of all of you. Now remember, you need to practice using your forms before you can just go off using them. I don't want any accidents."

"Yes Maman," the children quickly agreed.

"Let's go back inside," Larissa gestured towards their house, "Leopold is waiting for us with hot chocolate."

"Score!" Layla shouted, rushing off to her step-father. Her brothers were right behind her, quickly passing their younger sister. Larissa simply smiled at her children, before running towards her husband as well.

Chapter Text

September 6th, 1994.

"Attention all students ," Madam Maxime announced on the second day of term, "please remain in the hall after dinner ends. I have something I must address."

"What could this possibly be about?" Layla whispered to Jean, "This has never happened before."

"I'm confused myself," Jean whispered back, "and, look at the other teachers. They seem like they're keeping a secret. Are you sure you don't know what's happening? Did your step-father tell you anything?"

"Leopold hasn't said anything," Layla shook her head, "makes sense though. School secrets stay school secrets, even if it's from family."

"This year is a very special year," Madam Maxime spoke eloquently, capturing the hall's attention with ease, "our school, Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons, has been invited to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We will be taking part in the Triwizard Tournament."

"No way," the occupants of the room gasped in shock. The tournament had been discontinued since the 1790s. To hear that it would be reinstated was astounding.

"That can't be right," Victor whispered to Dianne Russel, "Dianne, your dad works for the ministry in diplomacy. Do you think this can be true?"

"Besides the fact that Madam Maxime literally just said it was," Dianne answered, rolling her eyes, "yes, my father has been visiting England very often. I'm not surprised."

"Cool," Victor grinned, "do you think we'll have a shot?"

"I think you'd make a great champion," Felicia Rosier told Victor somewhat shyly. Victor was confused. Felicia was normally unabashed to say her opinion. Why was she hesitating?

"Oh good Merlin," Larissa sighs, "we've reached that stage in a child's development."

"Love is great Rissa," Lyra grinned at her cousin, "smile. Your kid is going to woo all the ladies."

"Please no," Larissa groaned, "I don't want to watch that."

"Not like the goddess gave us a choice," Clarene pointed out, "just get used to it Rissa."

"For those unaware," Madam Maxime continued once the room quieted down enough, "the Triwizard Tournament is a friendly competition between three schools, our Beauxbatons, Hogwarts from Scotland, and Durmstrang from Bulgaria. There will be three tasks and a Yule Ball. Due to the great danger involved, the three governments involved have made the decision to limit participation to those of age, namely seventeen year olds and above."

"Aw man," Victor deflated, "there went my chance to be a champion."

"There, there," Lèon patted his friend on the back mockingly, "you'll be alright."

"Shut up Lèon," Victor grumbled, "not helping."

"However," Madam Maxime now turned to look at the student body, "we will be selecting two students per class, grades one to five, to come to Hogwarts in order to represent the school. The students will be selected based on grades, performance, and behavior. I will now call the names of the representatives by grade."

"You're definitely going Damian," Adin nudged his friend, "I just wonder who else from our class is going to go."

"They're going to go to Hogwarts," Narcissa realized, "our son would likely be there. Lucius, we'll get to see our boy!"

"Indeed," Lucius smiled gently at his beloved wife, "that would make this entire experience worth our while."

Damian barely paid attention during the callings of the first three years. He did cheer, however, when Boaz Cartier was chosen to represent Class 3-C.

"Class 4-A," Madam Maxime read from a list, "Rachel Silver and Dennis Makinger."

"Go Ray!" Damian Garcia cheered from Class 4-B, "I knew you had it in you."

"Class 4-B," Madam Maxime ignored the cheering coming from the classes, "Damian Greengrass and Felicity Farkas."

Damian looked in shock at the teacher's podium, and his stepfather gave him a thumbs up.

"That's my big brother!" Layla cheered from 4-D, jumping up and down in happiness for her brother.

"Please try and keep the cheering to a minimum," Madame Maxime's voice, thick in French, begged them, "otherwise I'll be unable to finish."

"Have they been speaking French this whole time?" Druella Black suddenly realized, turning to her husband, "Cygnus, has this vision thing been translating French into English this entire time?"

"Now that you mention that," Cygnus picks up on his wife's thoughts, "I did wonder why a French school was speaking English all the while. It would make sense that the goddess was translating for those of us unable to understand French."

"I can't believe I didn't notice that," Moody grumbled, "that was so foolish of me."

"We all make mistakes Alastor," Albus comforted his friend, "it's alright."

"Class 4-C," Madame Maxime continued to read, "Gabrielle Dupont and Louis Sinclair."

Cheering once again broke out, though quickly quieted at Madame Maxime's glare.

"Class 4-D," Madam Maxime read out, "Layla Greengrass and Jeanette Janed."

"We're going together!" Jean grabbed Layla's hands, "Layla! We're going!"

"Class 4-E," Madam Maxime sighed, "Victor Greegrass and Eric Baunter."

"It seems that all three triplets made the cut," Rodolphus voiced, "not unsurprising. They are obviously, based on what we've seen, superior to their classmates. They'd likely give a number of adults a hard time."

"I hate agreeing with him," Lucius made a distasteful face at agreeing with Rodolphus, "but Rodolphus is right. It was inevitable that they'd be chosen for this trip."

The fifth years were the last grade to have two representatives per class. As they were the grades holding the of age students, the sixth and seventh years were each bringing twelve of their best students.  Amongst the sixth years, Estelle Borier-Delancy, would be attending.

"I can't believe this is really happening," Victor told Lèon as they entered their dorm, "I'm going to miss you Lèon."

"Me too Victor," Lèon flopped down on his bed, "you better write to me."

"I will," Victor promised, "on the bright side, I'll get to see my English friends. That could be fun."

"I forgot you had friends in England," Lèon recalled, "The Scamanders and Shacklebolts, correct?"

"Correct," Victor nodded, before sighing, "truth be told Lèon, I'm terrified to go."

"Right," Lily remembered suddenly, "his mother is English and so is her family."

"That sounds like it can get awkward real fast," Sirius pitied the poor children, "I can see why he's anxious about it."

"You're worried about confrontations with the Greengrasses, aren't you?" Lèon guessed, "I'm sure you'll be able to avoid it."

"I hope so," Victor exhaled, "you're right. No need to worry."

September 21st, 1994.

"Thank you all for gathering here,"  Madame Maxime thanked them all, "we must begin practicing an entrance performance for the day we make it to Hogwarts. We must show those Brits some French pride."

"Yeah!" the gathered students cheered, "let's show them!"

"Alright then," Madam Maxime stepped aside, revealing Madam Ballard, "Madam Ballard will be practicing with you for the next month. We head to England on October 29th, and will arrive on the 30th." 

The students got to practicing, and about thirty minutes in, Madam Maxime motioned for the triplets to follow her.

"I wonder what she wants from them," Molly Weasley wondered aloud, "they've already been chosen to go to Hogwarts."

"Patience Molly," Arthur advised, "speculating isn't going to help."

"Is all well Madam Maxime?" Damian asked the headmistress politely, "did we do anything wrong?"

"Heavens no," Madam Maxime chuckled, "in fact, quite the opposite. I have a favor I want to ask of the three of you."

"We're honored," Victor bowed slightly in respect, "what can we do for you Madam Maxime?"

"You three are animagi, correct?" Madam Maxime began, "I'd like you to display that in our performance. Hogwarts can't beat that."

"She isn't wrong," Albus Dumbledore sighed, "our youngest animagus was Minerva, and she was seventeen when she transformed. Those kids are fourteen."

The marauders simply chuckle to themselves. Little did Hogwarts know they had three animagi who successfully transformed at age fifteen."

"Really?" Layla's eyes widened, "you want us to transform in public?"

"Yes," Madam Maxime smiled, "Madam Ballard will create a special choreography for the three of you based on what your forms are. We only heard that you were animagi, and haven't had the chance to find out exactly what you are."

"I'm a crow," Victor pointed to himself, before pointing at each sibling respectively, "Layla is a leopard and Damian is an eagle."

"Beautiful animals," Madam Maxime complimented, "now, I'd like you three to spend time training your forms to perfection. We don't want any mistakes the day of the performance."

"We won't let you down," Damian promised on behalf of him and his siblings.

October 27th, 1994.

"Are you nervous?" Jean asked her friend as they strolled along the school's gardens, "you seem anxious."

"I'm just a little worried about the performance," Layla admitted, "what if I detransform in the middle or forget my clothes? What if I can't turn back out of nerves? There's so much to be worried about."

"I understand the feeling," Filius Flitwick empathizes with the small teen, "having everyone's eyes on you can be startling. I certainly didn't hold up well with the audience in my first duel."

"There's more to your worries" Jean says bluntly, "you can't hide from your best friend Layla. If you don't want to tell me, that's alright, but just know, I'm willing to listen."

"He runs that school," Layla's words can barely be heard over the blowing wind, "the man who was responsible for my grandparents' deaths. He's the one who got them to destroy their stone, the one who put it at risk in the first place. I don't think I can keep a civil face if I see him."

"Their hatred runs thick," Albus sighs, "I hope that they can realize that I, more than almost anyone, would have never wanted Nicholas and Perenelle to die. They were good friends and colleagues."

"Your actions are suspicious though," Minerva gently informed her mentor and boss, "it's no wonder they hate you. You haven't given them a reason why not to."

"Oh," Jean's face softens, and she pulls her friend in for a hug, "Layla, that must be so difficult. I'll do my best to help you avoid him. Try to think about the good things about going. You'll see your friends there, won't you?"

"Rolf has already owled me to ask if I'm coming," Layla recalls, "and Cesare has demanded information as well. Flora wrote to tell me that Yusuf plans to enter the tournament. I haven't owled them back because Asteria wouldn't make it there before we did."

"That's true," Jean laughed, "imagine that. You're sitting with Rolf and gossiping, and Asteria swoops down to deliver a letter that says you're coming and super excited to hear all the tea that didn't make it into his letters."

"It would be really funny," Layla giggles, "maybe I should write just so that can happen."

"Layla!" Freya Borier-Delancy ran up to them, "you wouldn't believe what just happened!"

"My beautiful daughter has appeared," Clarene instantly sat straighter, "isn't she lovely, Serena?"

"She certainly takes after Maman," Serena complimented her future niece, "and Austin as well. She has his eyes."

"What happened?" Layla instantly turned to face her cousin, "is everyone alright?"

"Everyone's fine," Freya reassured her cousin, which instantly calmed Layla's nerves, "but still, you're going to want to hear this."

"Just tell me already," Layla tapped her foot anxiously, "come on."

"Aunt Vivie is having another child," Freya finally let out the secret, "Uncle Ajax owled Boaz to ask what he wants for his birthday, and he wrote in the post script that he and Auntie Vivie are going to have a baby."

"No," Guenevive looked horrified at the screen, "please don't tell me that. I don't need more proof that I married that jerk."

"That's wonderful," Antiope smiled at the thought of another grandchild, "loosen up dear. You clearly love him in the future. You've seen the two of you in the visions. He can't be that bad, can he?"

"She won't want to hear it, Maman," Daniel sighed, used to his older sister's quirks, "just let her get her frustrations about the man out."

"That's wonderful," Layla's eyes filled with happiness, "Dorea must be over the moon. She's always wanted a sibling."

"Get this," Freya continued, "Uncle Ajax also wrote to Stelle and told her that Auntie was just offered a position as Head of the International Magical Children's Welfare Council."

"No way," Layla stared at her cousin in disbelief, "you have got to be kidding me. There's no way Auntie would get the position when they only just appointed Reynold Hicks to the position three months ago."

"He's been arrested for child trafficking," Freya's eyes hardened in distaste, "Auntie busted him with her task force and they offered her the position."

"Congrats Guenivive," Edmund congratulated his cousin. They had always been the closest, being the same age. 

"Thank you Edmund," Guenevive thanked him stiffly, not sure how to feel about her cousin, knowing how he treated his older sister and how he will continue to treat her well into the future."  

Chapter Text

October 29th, 1994.

"Bye Leopold," Layla gave her step-father a light hug, "send Maman our love, seeing as we'll be unable to return for Yule."

"I promise I'll pass on your regards," Leopold reassured his step-daughter, "keep safe."

"As always," Layla smiled mischievously, "though, I will definitely get up to some crazy things."

"I wouldn't expect less," Leopold chuckled, "go have fun."

"There you are," Jean ran up to her, "we've been looking everywhere. Ray says that Madam Maxime wants us to head to the chariots."

"I'm coming," Layla grabs Jean's hand and runs, "bye again!"

"She's taken to her stepfather quickly," Antiope smiled, "good. Less tension in the house."

"I'm so nervous," Layla admitted once they were about an hour into the journey, "what if my transformation fails?"

"Just practice a little now," Gabrielle Dupont suggested, "it can't harm you."

"She's right," Felicity Farkas agreed, "give it a go Layla."

Layla took a deep breath, and allowed her inner self to relax. Her bones stretched, her skin grew fur, her head shrunk, and her hair melted into her fur. Within moments, a beautiful Abur Leopard sat in Layla Greengrass' seat.

"You're so pretty," Jean gasped at her best friend's animagus form. Petting her, she added, "And so soft as well. You'll blow them away, Layla."

"Let me," Ray moved closer to Layla, petting her soft fur, "oh Saint Martha's! Your fur is so soft Layla."

"I still can't believe that a bastard like her was able to make such a transformation," Narcissa sniffed haughtily, "she should know her place."

"The good purebloods at Hogwarts will put them in their place," Lucius reassured his wife, "no need to get upset over a filthy bastard."

"Watch how you speak of my future child," Larissa's quiet voice reached the ears of the Malfoy heir, "I may not be the greatest at martial magic, but I'm a spell crafter. I know how to make a spell that will leave you wishing you never opened your mouth."

"How dare you speak to a Malfoy like that!" Lucius spat at the girl, incensed at her daring, "you are nothing but a whore!"

"I am no prostitute," Larissa's soft yet firm voice rang in the room, "and you have no right to speak such disgusting words about my children. They are victims of horrible circumstances, children of sin. The sin of rape that is. If you feel threatened by my child, focus on improving yourself, rather than degrade a child that has yet to be born, that will never be born."

Insults were on the tip of Lucius' tongue, yet he was unable to say them. The clever witch had cursed off his mouth, and the regular counter curse wasn't working.

October 30th, 1994.

"This is it," Victor whispered, "we return to our roots. We come to meet our mother's ghosts."

"Indeed," Damian felt the same melancholic feeling his younger brother expressed, "though Hogwarts is truly beautiful. Maman's words do its beauty no justice."

Their carriage touched the ground, their Abraxans landing smoothly on a bridge. The carriages were enchanted with undetectable extension charms, and would serve as their home base while on foreign soil.

"They got to use the chariots," Lyra's eyes widened in glee, "look how pretty they are Daniel."

"I see them sister," Daniel shook his head at his older sister's simple joy, "I'm not blind."

"Remember what we practiced," Madam Ballard reminded them all sternly, "Greengrass triplets, please stand in the first row. If there are any problems with transforming, please copy the other students' movements."

"Of course," the three agree in unison, "we will Madam Ballard."

"You'll do great," Fleur Delacour, Great-Aunt Antiope's great-niece reassured them, "I am certain of it."

"Merci," Damian thanked the older girl, "we will uphold Beauxbatons' honor and grace."

As they entered the school, Victor took deep breaths. He had mastered his crow form, transforming instantly without holding his wand. Yet his nerves still wouldn't let him rest.

An odd looking man met them at the door, and after hobbling around, he led them to a pair of great doors. 

"The Great Hall," James smiled, "it'll be nice to see it years into the future. I wonder how much it will change."

"Very little," Minerva McGonagall told her student, "it rarely does."

"Welcoming the fair students of Beauxbatons Academy all the way from France," the voice from all those years ago sounded, "please welcome them along with their Headmistress Madam Maxime."

Entering, the students around them twirled precisely, their movements the embodiment of grace. Nodding once at each other, the three shifted from their powdery blue uniforms into something animalistic.

"Bloody hell!" voices sounded as they began their little routine, "those three are animagi!"

In her leopard form, Layla leapt in the air, easily reaching ten feet. Her feet landed on the platforms her upperclassmen created with their wands, and her brothers flew beside her as she ran. Damian's golden eagle form soared into the air, flipping and making loops as grabbed Victor in crow form with his talons. They quickly finished their small performance in the air, and still in animal form, landed on her back. Layla continued to run, carrying her brothers. When she reached where the other students were, standing by the headmaster's podium, she leapt off the platforms, her brothers flying off mid. As she was about to land, she transformed, landing gracefully, fully clothed, before Hogwarts' population. Her brothers transformed in the air, and did double flips as they landed beside her. Bowing to their headmistress, they went to stand with their fellow students.

"Amazing," occupants jaws' dropped as they watched the wondrous performance, "they did it."

"Hogwarts really can't measure up," Slughorn bemoaned, "I really wish I could recruit them to my Slug Club. Too bad I'm retired, and that they go to another school."

"That was so cool," Sirius gaped at the vision before whispering to James, "Merlin, I wish we could do that."

"She looks so powerful," Mary stared at Layla's form on the screen, "I want to be like that."

"You're plenty powerful," Lily reassured her friend, "probably not at their absurd level, but still amazingly powerful."

"Thanks Lils," Mary smiled, "you're the best."

"It's wonderful to see you Olympe," Headmaster Dumbeldore embraced their headmistress, "that was a wondrous display. Your students are immensely talented. You may all take your seats now."

Her fellow students walked towards the table in blue and sat down. After kissing her brothers' cheeks, Layla went to sit with her friends. 

Soon after them, the Durmstrang girls and boys entered, displaying a show of fire, an immensely beautiful yet dangerous performance. They sat down at the green table, some of them right near Rolf.

Headmaster Dumbledore spoke a few words, and dismissed them to eat. As soon as she got the chance, Layla raced over to the yellow table, where she had spotted Yusuf earlier.

"You were so cool Layla," Yusuf embraced her fiercely, "it's so nice to see you. We're going to have a whole year together."

"Newt would be so proud to see his grandchildren," Euphemia remarked to her husband, "they are truly amazing people. I'm glad we've had this opportunity to see Newt's descendants."

"Who's this Yusuf?" a handsome boy sitting nearby asked Yusuf smilingly, "I didn't know you had a foreign girlfriend?"

"It's not like that and you know it Cedric," Yusuf scowled at the boy, "this is Layla Greengrass. She's one of the triplets that I've told you about. Her family and mine have been friends for one or two years."

"Pleasure to meet you," the boy held out his hand for a handshake, "that was a mighty fine display earlier. How old are you exactly?"

"I'm fourteen" Layla answered, "I'll be fifteen as of December."

"That's younger than McGonagall was," someone else at the table added, "it's truly an impressive feat. How did you do it?"

"It would seem that you are still employed at Hogwarts," Albus said to Minerva, "Hogwarts is still privileged to have you."

"Thank you Albus," Minerva smiled back. The two of them had been colleagues for many years, and their past as mentor and mentee cemented their bond as close friends. Minerva knew there was no trickery in Albus' words, at least not on a matter like this.

"My Maman guided me," Layla answered truthfully, "she's an incredibly talented and powerful witch."

"Larissa is definitely powerful," Yusuf agreed, "you should see some of the things she sends my dad. Truly incredible pieces."

"I'd love to chat more," Layla interrupted, peering towards the green table, "however, I'm slightly worried that Rolf will blow up if I don't go greet him." At the green table, Roof was shaking in excitement, pulling on Cesare in excitement. Layla would have to go see him, if only to save poor Cesare's arm.

"My idiot of a cousin," Yusuf shook his head fondly, "you're probably right Layla. You ought to calm that brat down."

"Talk to you later," Layla called out as she headed towards the green table. Impatient, Rolf had already left the table and had dragged Cesare and Flora to meet her.

"Rolf is definitely fond of her," Fleamont laughs, "he reminds me of Jacob when he was young and cooing over James."

"I see it," Euphemia laughs, envisioning the scene her husband was painting for her, "he is a little wilder though."

"Layla!" Rolf spun her around, grinning as she laughingly begged him to put her down, "it's been far too long."

"It's been less than three months," Layla giggles as Rolf finally puts her down, instantly wrapping Flora in a hug, "nice to see you again Flora. Where's Selena?"

"She's at the Gryffindor table," Flora pointed her index finger at the red table, "we're at the Slytherin table just so you know. Knowing you, you've been referring to the tables by colors."

"You do know me well," Layla laughed, she went to say something to Cesare, but when their eyes met, she couldn't get a single word out. Embarrassed and confused, she quickly pivoted to getting Rolf to take her to see his younger sister.

"There go the hormones," Larissa sighs, "I just hope these things won't show anything I don't want to see."

"What's the problem?" Lyra asked her cousin, "there's nothing wrong with kids getting into the stage of crushes, love, and dates. Is something up?"

"It's weird to watch," Larissa shrugged, "they're kids. We shouldn't be invading their privacy like this."

"This whole event is a breach of privacy," Lillian rolled her eyes, "let's just deal with it as we can, okay Rissa?"

"You got it Lillian," Larissa agreed with her younger cousin, "I guess that's the only option.

Chapter Text

The next day, Madam Maxime allowed for them all to explore Hogwarts, as the Triwizard Cup would be choosing the champions later that night. Knowing everyone would be far too excited to learn, Madam Maxime had waived classes for the day. Layla had chosen to visit the library, wanting to see the place her mother had spent most of her school days in.

"Excuse me," Layla asked a bushy haired girl, "is it possible for you to point me in the direction of the books on curses and jinxes? I would ask the librarian, but I can't seem to locate her."

"Of course," the girl said, "please follow me."

"Thank you," Layla smiled, before realizing something, "that was rather rude of me. I should have introduced myself first. I'm Layla Greengrass. Thank you for the help Miss."

"No problem," the girl replied, "I'm Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to help anyone who wishes to make use of the library."

"Merlin it's another Lily," Marlene stared at the vision horrified, "Mary, it's another Lily!"

"I see that," Mary's face slightly pales, "oh Merlin is that poor boy in for it."

"Why are you two so rude?" Lily gave the two girls a harsh glare, "stop making fun of people who like the library."

"Yes Ma'am," the two girls quickly responded, knowing Lily was incredibly overprotective of both the library and the academics who loved it.

Hermione leads Layla to the section on curses and jinxes. It was just as her maman had described. 

"Thank you," Layla thanked the girl earnestly, "sorry for disturbing your reading. I'll be alright for now."

"No problem," the girl smiled and walked off. Layla ran her hand over the spines of the books. Had her maman done the very same all those years ago? Had she sat in this section of the library, desperately trying to improve? Layla couldn't answer that for sure, yet she knew, by the end of this exchange experience, she would find out. That was her personal goal for the next few months. She wanted to find out more about her mother.

"Hi Selena," Damian went to greet his friend, "it's been a few months."

Selena was sitting with a few of her housemates at the Gryffindor table during lunch. There was a red haired boy and girl, a boy with messy dark hair, and a blonde boy sitting beside her. Selena was startled at Damian's sudden appearance, but quickly regained her cool. The dark skinned brunette stood to give him a hug, and Damian embraced his friend.

"It's so cute to see how people can be connected," Euphemia gushed, "Mr. Flamel went to say goodbye to the Scamanders, and in the process, forever connected three families. Isn't that cute Monty?"

"Whatever you say Effie," Fleamont agreed with his wife, "I just hope that nothing else dramatic will happen to these poor children."

"You're the animagus from last night!" the red haired boy proclaimed tactlessly, "bloody hell mate, that's really cool."

"It is," Selena proceeded to pinch Damian, who instantly yelped in pain, "that's for not telling us. How come we found out that you three were animagi with the rest of the general population?"

"Sorry Selena," Damian apologized, amused that she was angry over something as trivial as that, "I won't do it again."

"You better not," Selena huffed with her hands on her hips, "Damian, meet my best friend, Ginny Wealey." Selena pointed to the cheery red haired girl beside her, "the other redhead is her older brother Ron, the blond boy is Neville, and the messy haired boy is our local celebrity, Harry Potter. I'm sure you've heard of him, even in France."

"I hope he doesn't treat him too badly," James bit his lip nervously, "I remember them blaming him for the Flamels' death. I hope that they can forgive him."

"As do I," Sirius sighed, "forgiveness is hard though. We can't blame the kids if they chose not to forgive either. The world is just so unfair."

"Oh I've heard of him alright," Damian's tone hardened, remembering that horrible conversation with Albus Dumbledore only a few years prior, "do you have any other friends Selena?"

"That's not how people normally react to you being Harry Potter," Ron whispered, or at least attempted to, "I wonder what's up with him."

"I know you," Neville suddenly realized, "you're the kid from the ice cream shop a few years ago."

"Huh?" Damian frowned, not recalling what the boy could be talking about, "I'm sorry, but you must have mistaken me with someone else. I'm French and I've never met you."

"No," Neville insisted, "it was in the summer a few years ago. You were with Selena and her family. And you were talking about Hogwarts and you said some stuff I needed to hear. I've wanted to say thank you for a few years. So thank you."

  "They went for ice cream when they met the Scamanders the first time," Regulus recalled, "and spoke of the four houses. Damian expressed disapproval of the way we sort, saying something along the lines of "labels are damaging." That must be what the blond boy is referring to."

"Excellent recollection," Arcturus praised his remaining grandson, "as befits the heir of House Black."

"Thank you Grandfather," Regulus flushed slightly under the patriarch's praise. He needed to curry as much favor as possible. He was almost unanimously accepted as the Black heir, though some families would secretly prefer the position going to their own children, namely their vassal families, the Lestranges and Malfoys. He'd have to be careful.

"You're welcome?" Damian replied confusedly, "anyways, how have you been Selena?"

"Boy do I have stuff to tell you," Selena pulled Damian with her, "sorry Gin. I have to catch up with Damian. I'll see you in charms."

"Have fun," Ginny called after her friend, "I'll just sit with these tactless boys."

"Wish you luck," Selena called back, and dragged Damian off to talk. Damian found out more about the Hogwarts' rumor mill than he ever had wanted to know. Somehow, the young Gryffindor third year had eyes and ears everywhere.

Victor had chosen to spend his free day with Boaz Cartier. The two of them were wary of wandering off on their own, so they had remained near the carriages. Boaz was particularly deft at sketching, so he was able to teach Victor the basics. They sketched the beautiful lake Hogwarts possessed. According to his mother, a sea monster lived inside the lake, occasionally surfacing.

"You're really good at this," Victor complimented his younger cousin, "you know, I never would have imagined you to be an artist."

"Why?" Boaz raised a brow, "is it that surprising that I have a flair for art?"

"Ironic," Daniel smirked, "seeing as dearest Clarene is horrible at any form of art. She can't even draw stick figures properly."

"Rascal," Clarene snarked, lacking any malice in her tone. Daniel was the only son amongst five daughters; there was no doubt that that's where he learnt to be sharp and quick to nitpick on others.

"Yes," Victor didn't beat around the bush, "have you seen Stelle's attempts at art? Those are nothing in comparison to how horrid Frey's are. Trust me, it's more rational to believe you are incapable of art than to believe you can draw at all."

"Touchè," Boaz acknowledged, "though I hope you never make that mistake again."

"I won't," Victor promised, raising his finger, "I pinky promise."

"The most solemn of all vows," Boaz linked his pinky with Victor's, a most serious expression on his face, "the punishment is severe should you break it."

"I accept the responsibility of initiating a pinky promise," Victor pledged, a hand on his chest, "you have my word."

"Very well," Boaz accepted Victor's pledge, "you are forgiven for your slight."

The two couldn't help but burst into laughter, the whole affair amusing them far more than either would care to admit.

"They're both good kids," Horace Slughorn smiled softly, "it's nice to see children be children."

"It is time," Albus Dumbledore stood before them, an ancient artifact glowing blue before him, "the Goblet of Fire is ready to make its choice."

"Good luck," Layla heard Estelle Borier-Delancy wish her cousin Fleur, "I'm sure you'll be picked. You're the best of our grade."

"Merci," Fleur nervously fidgeted with her hands, "I really want to compete."

"From Durmstrang," Albus Dumbledore's powerful voice rang through the hall, a small piece of paper floating into his hand, "Victor Krum!"

The entire hall erupted in cheers, everyone had been cheering the famed quidditch player on; no one was surprised the impressive eighteen year old had become the champion."

"He's one of the best quidditch players in the world!" Damian shouted in glee, explaining his excitement to his sister, "he's only eighteen, yet he plays as Bularia's seeker."

James stared at the eighteen year old wide-eyed. He was certain he was an excellent player; he was quidditch captain since fifth year, but to play professionally as a student! That type of talent is once in a century!

"I don't think I've ever seen our James this silent," Euphemia whispered to Fleamont, "enjoy it while it lasts."

"From Beauxbatons," Dumbledore continued on, the flying paper quickly caught, "we have Fleur Delacour!"

"Bravo Fleur!" Estelle cheered merrily for her cousin, who had begun to walk to Madam Maxime, "bravo!"

"And representing Hogwarts," Dumbledore paused, building up suspense for his own student, "will be Cedric Diggory."

The noise in the room was overwhelming. The Hufflepuffs roared in excitement, clapping their champion on the back as he excitedly made his way to the room where the other champions were. 

Layla was so caught up in the festivity, that she nearly missed Rolf leading Flora out of the hall, an urgent feeling to his gait. Layla immediately rushed after them, worried for the safety of her friend.

"I wonder what it could possibly be," Sirius worried for the child of someone he saw as a good friend, "why is Leta's child running away?"

"I don't know," James was also worried, "at least Jacob's son is with her. I hope she'll be alright."

To the surprise of everyone in the hall, a fourth paper erupted from the flames. Dumbledore caught it by impulse, and his face whitened as he read it aloud.

"Harry Potter," the declaration broke the silence that had filled the room, voices screaming in confusion and anger. Damian could see a brunette near Potter pushing him forward, and he noticed the look of outrage on the Weasley boy from earlier. 

"Something is wrong," Victor whispered to his older brother, "badly wrong. I'm no seer, but even I know that this is a premonition. Something big is coming, and we need to begin preparations. We'll regret slacking off in a few years."

"Just like his father," Lucius sneered, "an arrogant child who simply must show off."

"Distasteful," Narcissa agreed with her husband, "yet unsurprising. The boy came from a sorry excuse of a pureblood and a filthy mudblood. Is it surprising he would be a disgrace like that?"

"Are you foolish?" Abraxas scolded his son, "to deceive the Goblet of fire takes an incredible amount of power for a child his age. Don't be dismissive. This child supposedly killed our lord. He may have powers we do not know."

"Don't call Lily a mudblood," Sirius called out to his ex-cousin, anger flooding his face, "she's worth one hundred of you in beauty, talent, and overall niceness. Keep your pigheaded mouth closed."

"You're one to speak Sirius," Narcissa snarled, "you're nothing. The Black family has abandoned you completely. You don't have a knut to your name, yet you think you can judge the merits of a noblewoman such as myself?"

"What the Blacks foolishly discarded the Potters claim," James fiercely defends his friend, "you may not see the value Sirius brings, yet it's worth far more than your entire vault. I'd gladly give my life and fortune to ensure Sirius' safety. I highly doubt your own sister would defy her lord for your sake, yet I'd risk anything to guard Sirius. He has much more secure backing than you can ever dream of having, especially with that expression of yours. It looks like you have dung under your nose."

Narcissa was about to hash it out, yet before she could, her mouth was neatly sewn shut.

"Sit down," Lily Evans demanded, her emerald green eyes flashing in anger, "this is just delaying our release from this place. These events will never happen anyways, so let's just allow the visions to show us what must be changed. I will not take no for an answer, so sit your arse down Potter. You too Black. I will not tolerate this."

The two gryffindor boys sat down sheepishly. Mary and Marlene stared at Lily in awe. She could be terrifying if she wanted to be.

"What's wrong?" Layla rushed to Flora's side, the poor girl whimpering in pain, slouched against her cousin's side.

"Too loud," Flora muttered, her eyes wide and silver, "it's too loud. Make them stop."

"What's going on?" Layla asked Rolf, as Flora was unresponsive, "Rolf, what is happening to her?"

"She's a legilimens, remember?" Rolf rubbed soothing circles on his cousin's back, "not only does she hear the loudness of all their voices, she also hears their thoughts. She's overstimulated. I want to help, but there's nothing I can do. I'd take her to the matron, but Madam Pomphrey is in the hall as well."

"Poor child," Melania Black's gaze softened, she had always had a soft spot for powerful girls of noble blood. While she couldn't be certain if she was pure or half, the girl was a descendant of the Shacklebolt and Scamander families. Both were of acceptable status, so there was nothing wrong in expressing pity for such a child.

"Let me try," Layla pressed her fingers on Flora's temple, "relax Flora. Allow your mind to clear." Layla released the magic building up inside her, and allowed a glowing burst of white magic to come forth from her hands. The light reached Flora, and the girl immediately crumpled into her arms, the noise finally quieted.

"Thank you," Flora whispered as she slowly drifted off, "how did you get them to be quiet?"

"Magic," Layla smiled at her friend reassuringly, "I'll tell you more when you're in a better state. For now, relax your mind. Rolf and I will ensure your safety."

Flora obeyed her friend, and she slowly drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Normally, she'd have to suffer through instances like this, the voices reaching her even in her dorm room. Yet this time, a precious friend had offered her something better. A chance to rest.

Chapter Text

"The poor girl," Euphemia empathized, "Tina always did say her sister would have incredibly bad migraines as a child. Legilimency is never a blessing."

"Hogwarts cannot 'ave three championz," Madame Maxime insisted in her thick French accent, "this is a cheap trick."

"Harry," Dumbledore turned to the boy in question gently, "did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

"No Sir," the boy's eyes shook, fear clearly evident, "I didn't."

"Then that settles it," Dumbledore smiles gently, "the boy didn't do it."

"He could be lying," Igor Karkaroff pointed his finger angrily, "why should we just take his word for it?"

"Everyone knows that Albus Dumbledore is an expert legilimens," Madam Ballard voiced quietly, "it would be foolish to simply dismiss his claims. Perhaps we should ask him to elaborate on why he believes Potter to not have cheated."

"It seems that Mademoiselle Ballard has as much diplomatic skill as her father," Antiope smiled, "our Prime Minister is well known for his diplomatic abilities."

"It doesn't matter whether the boy is innocent or not," Bartemius Crouch said matter-of-factly, "he is bound by the magical contract of the goblet. He couldn't get out of it even if he wanted to."

"Barty isn't wrong," Dumbledore sighed, "that's why the age-line was instituted."

"Well perhaps you made a mistake," Madam Maxime suggested, "even you cannot be perfect."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore placated, "it is definitely possible."

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" Minerva Mcgonagall snapped, "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

"Thank you for your belief Minerva," Albus turned to his once pupil, "always as strong minded as ever."

"No need for thanks Albus," Minerva gave a small smile, "you have made many mistakes, but that definitely doesn't seem to be one of them."

"Well we should redraw then," Karkaroff suggested, "then we could be even."

"The Goblet of Fire has already died down," Crouch shook his head, "it will not reawaken until the next tournament."

"Then how is this fair?" Madam Maxime insisted, "if the boy must participate due to the contract, then it gives Hogwarts two shots."

"What if the contract wasn't an issue?" Madam Ballard tentatively suggested, "what if there was a way of nullifying it somehow? Is it not worth a shot? The first task is on November twenty fourth, almost a month from now. If we get an expert to try and break it, that can be the best case scenario. Worst case scenario, the boy participates."

"Who can possibly figure such a thing out?" Minerva McGonagall insisted, "if Dumbledore himself cannot figure it out, who can?"

"There went that idea," Lily sighed, "I had hoped that he'd maybe get out of it."

"I hope he'll be alright," James bit his lip, "that sounds really dangerous."

"Remember the magical poisoning incident?" Madame Ballard turned to her superior, "Leopold brought in Nicholas Flamel's apprentice. If there's any other person capable of such a thing, it's likely to be her. Besides, Layla told me that her mother has all of Monsieur Flamel's notes from over the centuries.

"Of course," Madame Maxime's eyes brightened, "why didn't I think of it before? Dispatch a letter to her at once."

"Hold on a moment," Alastor Moody held up a hand, "we can't just give confidential information to just anyone. Who even is this woman you are trying to involve in this matter?"

"You want to call Ms. Larissa Greengrass?" Dumbledore asked, before sighing, "that may be a good idea. If anyone would know more than myself in this subject, it would have been Nicholas. His successor is the next best option."

"Look at you being famous," Clarene nudged her cousin gently, "you even have Albus Dumbledore admitting your greatness."

"More like an inherited reputation," Larissa sighed, "you're making a big deal out of nothing."

"You mean Larissa Arquette," Madam Ballard corrected stiffly, "she has married. I can attempt to get in contact with her via her children. I am certain they have quicker means of communication than sending an owl or portkeying."

"Would that be fair?" Madam Maxime turned to Karkaroff, "I'd like the consent of all present before we would proceed to acquire her services. Her schedule is incredibly busy, so it would be ideal to reach out as soon as possible."

"Nicholas Flamel was a world accredited alchemist, scholar, wizard, and researcher," Karkaroff grumbled, "it would seem as if I have no other option than his student. I approve."

"Then it is settled," Dumbledore smiled, "Madam Ballard was it? Can we entrust you to contact Madam Arquette?"

"I will speak to  the triplets," Madam Ballard headed towards the exit, "Madam Maxime, I shall take my leave."

"You are dismissed," the headmistress nodded, "I will discuss the rest of the details here."

"I'm sort of anxious," Larissa whispered to Clarene, "is that weird?"

"No," her cousin reassured her, "this is an unprecedented situation. It's not strange for you to have conflicting, strange emotions."

"Excusez-moi" Madam Ballard rapped on the door to the boys' dorms, "can I please speak to the Greengrass boys?"

"Greengrasses!" Eric Baunter shouted into the dorm room, "Madam Ballard is looking for you!"

"Coming," Victor's voice exclaimed as the sound of rustling feet was heard coming closer. Victor, Damian trailing behind him, looked at his teacher curiously. "How can we help you Madam?"

"Do you have alternative means of communication with your mother?" Madam Ballard got straight to the point, "the Tri-wizard committee wishes to consult her about the Goblet of Fire."

"We have a magic card," Damian offered, "When you light the runes up, you can choose who you want to contact. So far, only Maman, Leopold, and I have one. The one I have is for the three of us to share. Maman said there's a few more kinks to work out, so it will be out of the public eye. If I show it to you, I have to have you swear it remains secret."

"Observe closely," Narcissa hissed in Lucius' ear, "you are rather good at runes. Perhaps you can replicate it before she has the chance to ever make it."

"As you wish, My Love," Lucius responded lovingly, "you always are quick to seize opportunity."

"I can work with that," Madam Ballard agreed, "how soon can you call her?"

Damian signaled to his brother, who ran to get the artifact, "We're happy to oblige you now."

Victor returned with the card. The thin metal was sleek, and the moment Damian's fingers touched it, it lit up splendidly.

"It has a similar spell to a snitch," he explained to the perplexed teacher, "it only activates if I, the first to touch it, make skin-contact."

"Clever," Madam Ballard praised the little invention, "your maman hasn't disappointed."

Damian selected the rune for his mother, and after holding on to it for a moment, Larissa's smiling face appeared.

"Clever piece," Dumbledore analyzes the device, "I can see what she did, though I'm sure there is more to it. Seeing how there are small metal bits attached, I assume they are either engraved or enchanted. From what I see though, it is certainly a unique creation."

"Hello darling Damian," Larissa's voice is transmitted clearly, "we spoke a mere twenty minutes ago. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?"

"Bonjour Madame Arquette," Madam Ballard spoke clearly, not wanting to waste time, "the tri-wizard committee would like to humbly request your services in Hogwarts. The Goblet of Fire has given fourth a fourth name, and we'd like to consult you on whether or not there is a way to terminate the contract."

"I see," Larissa's face took a more serious look, "if all the paperwork is cleared, I'd be available to come on November third. If that is okay with the committee, you can contact me via Damian's communication card. Please, if possible, respond before the second of November."

"I will inform them immediately," Madam Ballard said immediately, "Thank you for your assistance Madam Arquette, and do say hello to Leopold for me."

"Will do," Larissa laughed, "bye boys, I love you."

"Love you too Maman," the boys responded to their mother, and with a swipe of his finger, Damian disconnected the call.

Chapter Text

November 3rd, 1994.

Larissa could help but feel a little nervous. It had been nearly two decades since she had last stepped foot on Hogwarts' grounds. Now, it felt strange to be returning, especially as an expert specifically called in. 

"No need to be so nervous," Leopold smiled gently, "and don't forget to bring Nicholas' notes on arcane magic. I set it aside on the kitchen counter."

"Thank you," Larissa kissed her husband on the cheek, "I should be home at the end of the day, but I cannot make any promises. If I don't make it home, have dinner at school."

"You got it ma'am," Leopold saluted his wife, "go on, they're waiting."

Larissa took a deep breath, and whispered the portus spell. Grasping onto the ring, she allowed the teleporting magic to swell around her. She had been working on improving teleportation on apparating, but hadn't gotten any conclusive results. Until she had reliable results, she would not be testing her theories. She appeared in the headmaster's office; a special exception to the anti-portkey wards had been arranged by the brilliant headmaster.

"Welcome Madam Arquette," Albus Dumbledore greeted her kindly, "please follow me to the office we will be convening in."

"Not much has changed," Larissa mumbled to herself as she walked the halls, "it's rather reassuring."

"It always does seem that way," the Dumbledore of the past commented, "though it always does change. Each generation brings something new."

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Madam Maxime thanked Larissa as the headmaster led her into the room, "we apologize for interrupting your normal schedule."

"No need for apologies," Larissa responded kindly, "it is a great privilege to have been asked."

"You will be fairly compensated," Mr. Crouch reassured the woman, "now, onto the point. Do you know how the Goblet of Fire works?"

"I understand the basic idea," Larissa admits, "student names are entered along with the school names into the goblet and the goblet is enchanted to pick one of each school. According to my esteemed mentor's notes, it likely picks based on strength of character and magical strength. According to Master Flamel, it can absorb parts of the essence of the writer via handwriting. It has a form of artificial consciousness, which allows it to make independent decisions. Now, I was told something about a fourth contestant?"

"It seems that she's not just talk," Elladora Lestrange noted, "she is what these visions have been portraying. You can see it in her posture; she knows exactly what is going on. If I'm reading her body language correctly, she already has a solution. She is only asking for propriety's sake."

"I don't think you're reading her wrong," Rodolphous concurs with his mother, "she's tapping her wand against her side in a rhythmic pattern. She's not curious at all about the situation; she's impatient, ready to begin working."

"I don't get how you two can do that," Rabastan whines, "you always know what people are thinking or doing before me."

"You were the one who refused to learn," Rudolph reproves his son sharply, "it is no one else's fault you were a hopeless pupil. Your mother instructed you countless times; you simply cannot compare to Rodolphous' skill. Quit the unseemly whining."

"Yes Father," Rabastan straightened, a contemptuous look flashing across his face, before quickly disappearing,  "I'll do better now."

"You better," Rudolph turned from his son, "we must regain our strength. The Blacks are on a path to failure; the Lestranges must ensure we soar above them. We will no longer be their vassals; we will conquer them with new strength. You must be better, or all our plans will fail."

Rabastan ignored his father. Didn't he know petty fights with fellow purebloods was pointless? All that mattered was serving the Dark Lord and ensuring that his glorious vision for the world is fulfilled. He shared a look with his sister-in-law and brother; only they knew the truth of the world. There would be no conquering the Blacks. The House of Lestrange would soon have a new head, and with that, a new direction.

"Yes," Crouch turned to the direction of a black-haired, green-eyed teenager. "Mr. Potter here has found himself as the fourth contestant in the Triwizard tournament," Mr. Crouch paused to emphasize the "tri" in tri-wizard, "we would ignore this, however, the goblet formed a magical contract. The boy must complete, lest his magic or potentially his life be at stake. We are unsure of the exact consequences, but from the notes we have, they aren't pretty."

"Do you know how his name got there in the first place?" Larissa enquired, "My children have informed me that there was an age limit enforced via an age-line. Assuming Dumbledore himself cast the spell, the spell should have been impassable by a vindictive teenage bully or rival, leaving only adults as the culprits. Has the method of deception been uncovered?"

"The leading theory is a powerful confundus charm," Minerva McGonagall answered, "although we cannot be certain, it is reasonable. The theory was touted by Alastor Moody, who as you may be aware, is an expert in such things, having been an investigative and combative auror for many years."

"That does sound like something I'd suggest," Moody agreed, "the confundus charm is, in essence, a milder version of the imperius curse. I've encountered it far too many times in the field. It makes perfect sense that the goblet was confounded."

"Sounds reasonably feasible," Larissa agreed, "do you have the Goblet presently? I already have a few ideas of what can be done for the situation. However, I need to examine the goblet to confirm my theory."

A small casket was set on the table. When Larissa opened it, the goblet lay there, carefully wrapped in silk. Larissa lifted it in her hands, closing her eyes as she felt its magical energy. She then tapped her wand on the goblet, the tip glowing dark purple as it made contact.

"It was most certainly a confundus charm," Larissa confirms, "the traces are very faint, but still there. It's a shame. Had it not been a few days, I could have had Estelle Borier-Delancy track down the culprit. She's one of three Boriers to possess their family gift in this generation. For now, all I can say is that the goblet was confounded into believing there was a fourth school. It would have been far more difficult to confund the goblet into picking Potter as a Hogwarts representative. The enchantment against bias is much stronger than any other. Whomever did this was meticulous in what they were doing. They added a fourth school to ensure Potter would be the only option to be chosen. This is no mere schoolyard rivalry or search for glory. This was a well-calculated plan, likely done by someone who has something against the boy. Perhaps they plan to even kill him."

"That cannot be!" Igor Karkaroff thundered, "the boy must be looking for glory. What reason does anyone have to put the boy in the tournament? We have taken great care to ensure it will be safe; the boy couldn't possibly die in it. Why would someone place him in the tournament?"

"My poor son," Lily sniffed sadly, doe eyes wide and scared, "is there nothing that can be done for him?"

"That's not what I've been called to discover," Larissa retorted quickly. She knew of Karkaroff's past; while he did not recognize her, she recognized him. He was responsible for her four missing ribs after all. He had cursed her while she was on the run, and she had barely escaped with her life. She knew he had been exonerated in exchange for information. She just never thought she'd have to face him again. "My sole purpose here today is to attempt to get Potter out of the tournament."

"She's correct," Madam Maxime came to Larissa's defense, "Madam Arquette, have you figured anything out?"

"Give me a half an hour to test my hypothesis," Larissa asked. Aft4er being granted the permission, Larissa began investigating. Waving her wand around the goblet, she analyzed all aspects of its runal makeup and enchantment history. Noting everything in a notebook, she ran a few calculations. After a few moments of contemplation, Larissa turned to the occupants of the room. "I've come up with two solutions," Larissa held up two fingers, "however, one is far riskier than the other."

"You can get me out of this?" Harry, who had been observing quietly since the beginning, turned pleadingly to Larissa, "Can you really?"

"I hope so," Larissa smiled gently. She couldn't blame the boy for Nicholas and Perenelle's deaths; he hadn't known the consequences of the situation. 

"I'd like to hear the safer one first," Albus Dumbledore asked, "Harry is my student. As such, I'd prefer we handle this with extreme care."

"At least he is taking some responsibility," Oscar Prewett sighed in relief, "that's a new one."

"Professor Dumbledore has never been irresponsible," Molly insisted to her father, "why would you suggest that?"

"Reasons my dear," Oscar didn't want to begin discussing the issues of the previous wizarding war with Grindelwald, "reasons that only those who have lived through can understand."

"My hypothesis goes as follows," Larissa flicked her wand, allowing for a diagram of the cup to appear. As she spoke, numbers, letters, and runes appeared. "The goblet is enchanted to choose a champion for each school. Once a champion is decided, it uses its magical energy to form a binding contract. The contract forms on the magical plane, hence, unobservable to us. The contents of this contract, as you all know, have been lost to time. However, my master had an old observational spell I used, and with it, I managed to extract the exact terms of the contract from the tendrils of the enchantment and the number of runes."

"Is there a loophole of sorts?" McGonagall asked, "Anything we can use to get Potter out?"

"I was getting there professor," Larissa held out a hand to silence the woman so she could continue. Once the professor was quiet, she continued, "the contract reads as follows: One whose name has been placed in this goblet has obligated themselves to compete in the three tasks of the tournament. Should the participant die in the tournament, their magic will be absorbed by the goblet. Should the participant back out, they must pay with that which they value most. Should they not pay, they submit their life to the judgment of the goblet. Should the payment be made the participant may leave, though they will forever be at the mercy of the goblet. Should the goblet choose, a new judgment may be enacted however the goblet deems fit? This contract is only to be changed by the Headmasters of the participating schools: The Noble Hogwarts, The Dignified Beauxbatons, and the Honorable Durmstrang. The terms of the changes permitted are as follows: the number of participants, the roles they play, and the tasks given."

"What a strict contract," Peter Pettigrews' jaw drops, "who makes these things?"

"Twisted, egotistical wizards," Marlen McKinnion answered quickly, "who else would do such a barbaric thing?"

"Fascinating," Flitwick proclaimed, "that contract was lost to time, yet Ms. Greengrass was able to recover it. How spectacular."

"Indeed," Albus agreed, "perhaps people will reconsider ever launching it again once they find out."

"Remarkable," Dumbledore clapped, "that contract has been missing for years. It is truly impressive that you have regained it."

"What were your two ideas?" Crouch interrupted Dumbledore, "you said that there were solutions."

"I could try and terminate the contract completely," Larissa began, "that would be option one. However, it would require a lot of untested and dangerous spellwork, something I am not comfortable with doing, even in the worst case scenario. I would especially not like to perform what is essentially magical surgery on a minor without the express permission of his legal guardian. I'm unsure if it would work one hundred percent, and although it is unlikely to kill or harm him, there is still the possibility. Additionally, the magic could potentially rebound on the goblet, and potentially harm the other contestants, another unwanted outcome. However, it is still an option on the table, however unlikely it is to be done."

"I'd rather we have the boy participate than potentially kill him," Madam Maxime declared, "I trust Madam Arquette's words, as she has the backing of both the late Flamels, as well as the backing of the French Ministry. Both have validated and confirmed her skills and capabilities. If she says the boy's entry into the tournament was a malicious plot, I am inclined to believe her."

"Reluctantly, I must agree," Karkaroff frowned nastily, "the Bulgarian ministry would not be happy if we killed off the boy in the name of fairness. It would be wiser to have the boy compete rather than potentially harming him and the other contestants."

"That's as I thought," Larissa glances at Harry. The poor boy looked incredibly uncomfortable with his fate being spoken of without including him in the conversation. "Harry, how do you feel about this?"

"Glad to see someone is finally asking him what he wants," Fleamont looks thankfully at the vision, "my grandson is not just an object people can move around. He has a right to have an impact on his own fate."

"What's the second option?" Harry instead asked, "I'd like to hear that before anything else."

"Right," Larissa straightened, "the second option would be magically rewriting the contract. I wouldn't be able to deregulate it completely, but I would redirect his role to something else. I can change his role in the tournament to something like a second in a duel. In each task, I can assign him to one of the other champions, and he can serve as an assistant. That way, the glory, money, and victory can go to the true champion, and he won't be forced to do the heavy work or get the glory. Each champion would get a turn with him as an assistant in order to keep it fair. Would that satisfy everyone here?"

"It's better than the first option," Madam Maxime conceded, "I accept that solution. Dumbledore? Karkaroff?"

"I will abide," Karkaroff huffed, "though it is not ideal, it is a far more satisfactory solution than allowing him to be a regular participant or having him magically operated on."

"Then it is settled," Crouch seemed relieved, "Madam Arquette, how soon can you rewrite the contract."

"Hold on a minute," Moody protested, seeming slightly nervous, "what about the lad's opinion. We can't just make decisions without asking him." Moody seemed rather strange in Larissa's opinion, but she didn't think much of it. He was well known by the moniker 'Mad-Eye Moody'. Larissa wouldn't be surprised if he was slightly unstable.

"Thank you for looking out for Harry," Euphemia turned to the gruff auror, "I appreciate it."

Moody barely heard her thanks. He was busy observing the vision. He was nearly positive with his conclusion: that wasn't him. Someone was disguising themselves as him and very likely was the culprit behind the whole mess. He wouldn't say anything yet, not until she got more evidence. He didn't need his underlings to think he's crazy.

"I am willing to do that," Harry immediately agreed, "I want this whole thing to be over."

"Very well then," Larissa took a deep breath, "everyone, please step back." The occupants of the room obeyed the Magical expert, and stepped back. Larissa waved her wand, and light erupted from the goblet. Larissa weaved her wand in complicated movements, words tumbling out of her mouth easily. She glanced into her notes, carefully following the instructions Nicholas left behind regarding magical bonds, contracts, and vows. She had to get it right, for the poor child's sake. After four minutes, the lights began to die down and Larissa began to feel faint. She pushed forward, magical power spilling into her work. Finally, the lights died down completely, and panting Larissa clutched onto the table for support.

"Madam Arquette!" Madam Ballard rushed forward, steadying the witch, "are you alright?"

"Perfectly," Larissa gave a weak smile, "just a little strained. I don't have much magical stamina, and that took more power than I thought it would."

"Incredible," Arcturus Black's eyes took a greedy turn, "Melania, how can we get our hands on this girl?"

"We'll have to think this through," Melania warned her husband, "there are a lot of people who would want a talent like that in their family. We must find something to entice her to us."

"But what?" Arcturus thought deeply. He had to think of something.

"Did it work?" Harry hesitantly asked, hoping for the best. 

After scanning the goblet with her wand once more Larissa confirmed in the positive. "The terms are changed successfully. You will serve as a valet for Durmstrang's contestant the first time, Beauxbatons champion the second, and you will finish with Hogwarts. You should speak to whomever the Durmstrang contestant is and let him know  of this arrangement."

"Thank you for your assistance Madam," Mr. Crouch thanked Larissa, "we will send you a sum derived from the Tri-Wizard budget."

"Perhaps you should rest before you portkey home?" Madam Ballard suggests worriedly, "if you make a portkey now, you may get splinched or worse."

"I can make her a portkey," Dumbledore offered, "that is if you wish to return immediately. Otherwise, you are welcome to stay a while longer."

"I'll say hello to the children before I leave," Larissa turns to Madam Maxime, "would you direct me to my children?"

"You have children?" Harry asks, "do I know them?"

"You would have seen their performance when we first arrived," Madam Maxime took the opportunity to brag about her students, "her children are our lovely set of triplet animagi."

"I can't believe Madam Maxime is bragging like that," Antiope chuckled, "Isn't it strange Claire?"

"I guess," Clarene shrugged, "I don't really know her that well Maman. I couldn't tell you that."

"Fair enough," Antiope laughed, "but believe me, I would have never imagined seeing the day."

"That's incredible," McGonagall's eyes widened, "you must be very proud."

"Indeed we are," Madam Ballard answered, noticing Larissa's discomfort, "the Greengrass triplets are amongst our finest students."

"Greengrass?" Harry asks curiously, "like Daphne Greengrass? I know she's in my grade, are you related?"

Larissa froze. How would she answer this? She didn't want to place the stigma of her reputation in England on her beloved children, yet she wasn't the type to lie. She could see the recognition in McGonagall's eyes, and she could see the others piecing the pieces together. She saw Karkaroff's horrified look as he realized who she was.

"Yes," Larissa answered softly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room, "unfortunately, no one but I sees it that way."

Silas Greengrass looked guiltily at his family. He could see that none of them had any real apprehension or regret about the whole thing. He couldn't help but wonder, what was so wrong about what Larissa had done?

"You're Larissa Greengrass?" the truth dawned on McGonagall, "you've been in France all along?"

"I'd like to see my children please," Larissa urges Madam Ballard, "let's head there now. Please."

Sensing her desperation, Madam Ballard leads Larissa out of the room. Larissa took a deep breath. Her truth was now in the public eye. Sure there were few people in the room, but Larissa knew how the Hogwarts rumor mill worked. Her truth would be spread around the school by the end of the day at best.

Chapter Text

"Maman!" Layla ran into her mother's arms when she entered the hall, "I didn't know you were coming today."

"Hello darling," Larissa tightened her embrace around her beloved child, "I just finished up some work and came to see you before I left."

"Hi Aunt Rissa," Stelle Borier-Delancy came to greet her aunt, "it's been awhile since I've seen you. Did they hire you to deal with Potter?"

"Yes Stelle," Larissa releases her daughter in order to hug her cousin's daughter, "and you're right, it has been awhile. When you all come back, I should take you out for lunch."

"It looks like my daughter is close with you," Clarene observes, turning to Larissa, "I'm glad that we all get along."

"So am I," Larissa agrees, "family should take care of one another."

"I'll take you up on that," Stelle grinned, "you know, now might be the best time to introduce you to someone." Stelle went back to the Ravenclaw table, and returned with a dark haired girl. "Aunt Rissa, meet my best friend Nancy Porter. She's a huge fan of yours, so when she found out we're related, she insisted on meeting you."

"Bonjour," Larissa extends a hand, "it's a pleasure to meet a friend of Stelle's. I'm Larissa Arquette."

"It's a real honor to meet you Madam Arquette," Nancy eagerly shook Larissa's hand, "I'm a huge fan of your work. In fact, my favorite has to be your thesis on the magical possibilities of obsidian. Is it true that you've patented the method of using obsidian in alchemy?"

"I'm glad you enjoyed the paper," Larissa smiles, "and yes, I did patent the obsidian vessel method. I filed with the ICW, so my patent is valid all across the world. Now, Stelle dear, have you seen the boys. It's been lovely to chat with you all, but I just wanted to say a quick hello before heading home."

"How did we miss such potential?" Horace whispered to Filius. The two of them were the teachers who mentored the most students; they were the teachers that cultivated the talents of their students. Minerva took interest in very few people; she could go years before taking interest in a student again. Pomona Sprout would be happy to mentor, yet her subject, herbology, wasn't one that students tended to invest in. Charms and Potions were amongst the most practical subjects for budding witches and wizards to focus on, so it made sense that the teachers who taught them had the most protèges,

Horace's club was an obvious show of mentorship; select students could receive advice and connections by joining. He was happy to listen and chat with students, and if a student had something experimental they wished to try, Horace was happy to assist. Filius was more subtle; if he noticed talent, he approached the student to offer extra credit and courses. Filius assigned extra research papers, answered complex questions, instructed promising duelers, and spoke often with students who displayed extraordinary talent. 

Both had their eyes out for students with gifts; so, how had they missed a student of such revolutionary talent?

"Damian is with Rolf at the Slytherin table," Layla answered her mother promptly, "and Victor is off hanging out with Ray, likely in the chariots. Apparently, the two of them are writing letters to Lèon, Felicia, and Damian Garcia."

"I can escort you to the chariots," Madam Ballard offered, "unless you'd like to speak with your other son first."

"That would be best," Larissa turned to the Slytherin table, "Merlin! This is bringing me back to my school days."

Damian was talking to Rolf and Cesare when a hand tapped his shoulder. He was incredibly surprised to see his beloved mother standing smilingly behind him.

"Maman!" Damian immediately hugged his beloved mother. The action turned the entire table to look at them. People had noticed Larissa enter the room, but hadn't paid much attention. However, it was very rare for much noise to come from the Slytherin table, so for a scene to occur there caused everyone to turn their attention into that direction.

"So this is the famous Larissa," Cesare squinted his eyes, observing her, "I know that you all said Layla looks exactly like her, but I was not expecting this much resemblance."

"He's not wrong," Leanne shrugs, "the girl does look like her."

"And you must be Cesare Nott," Larissa's eyes turned sad, "I'm sorry I couldn't save your mother in time."

"It's alright," Cesare brushed off her concern, "I've already made my peace with it."

"I'll see you sometime soon then Damian," Larissa kissed Damian's forehead, "I need to say farewell to Victor before heading home."

"Send my regards to Leopold," Damian waved as she left. 

Larissa quickly went to check on her third child. After ensuring he was safe and well, she headed home.

November 12th, 1994.

Ever since Larissa had visited, the triplets were getting strange looks everywhere they went. Hermione Granger, the girl who had shown Layla around the library, kept following her. It didn't help that Granger was being followed by Victor Krum, the Bulgarian contestant, which by proxy, led to half the female population following her around.

"Poor thing looks so unsettled with everyone following her," Mary McDonald sympathized, "reminds me of you and those marauder boys, Lily. At least in first and second year."

"Don't remind me," Lily sighs, "thank Merlin they got over their stalking habits after second year. I probably would hex them if they did it now."

"As if you didn't do it then either," Marlene laughs, "but I agree. Thank Merlin they stopped."

"Is there something I can do to help you?" Layla finally confronts the girl  who had been not-so-discreetly following her. "If you follow me around any longer, I will lodge a formal complaint with your headmaster."

"Sorry," Hermione blushed at being caught. Her, Harry, and Ron followed a lot of people around, and none of them ever knew. It was her first time getting caught, and she was lost on how to justify this.

"Just stop following me and I'll leave it," Layla huffed and walked off. She made it back to the chariots, where she collapsed on her bed.

"You alright Layla?" Felicity Farkas asked, worried for her.

"I'm fine," Layla lays upside down on her bed to face Felicity, "I just put that girl who was following me in her place."

"You're not the only one being followed," Ray reminds Layla, "Victor told me that there are these kids in green following him around."

"The Hogwarts rumor mill at its finest," Remus shook his head, "the poor kids. They won't rest until they know everything about them."

"Reminds me of that one time we-" Peter began to recount a story, but was stopped by Sirius covering his mouth.

"Marauder stuff stays marauder stuff Wormy," Sirius reminded his friend, before pointing at McGonagall, "she's right there."

"Oops," Peter's ears turned red, "sorry Padfoot."

"Ugh," Layla groaned, "Maman told me that the people here love gossip, but I didn't think it was this bad."

"Layla," Gabrielle Dupont called from the front door, "a Flora Shacklebolt is at the door for you."

"Oh!" Layla leapt off the bed and rushed to the door, "Selena! How are you doing?"

"I'm alright," Flora began, "I just wanted to know if you were interested in joining Rolf, Selena, and I at Hogsmeade next week. I just found out that they opened the trip to you all as well."

"Hogsmeade?" Layla tilted her head in confusion, "where's that?"

"It's a village nearby," Flora explained, "on a few weekends, students third year and above are able to go to the village. I already confirmed with Damian and Victor that they're coming, so you were the only one left."

"What about Yusuf?" Layla asked, "why isn't he coming?"

"He's got a date," Flora pouted, "her name's Helene Grasswell. So much for family first."

"She's so much like her uncle," Fleamont laughed, "that was exactly Jacob's face when Leta had her first date. I'm not sure if you remember it James, you were only seven."

"Oh I remember," Euphemia's face turned nostalgic, "she dated that one boy from Godric's Hollow for a span of three hours. Good riddance. He was awful. Leta put him in his place gracefully; remember her face when she hexed his nose off?"

"I will never forget," Fleamont shuddered, "I vowed on that day to never mess with Leta Scamander."

"I'd be happy to go," Layla's eyes shone, "I'll be there Flora."

"Great!" Flora grinned, "we'll see you then."

November 19th, 1994.

"Hurry up," Selena pulled Flora's arm, "you're such a slowpoke."

"I'm walking at a reasonable pace," Flora protested, "and why don't you bug Rolf instead? He's your brother."

"Leave me out of it," Rolf shook his head, "come on, let's go get chocolate from Honeydukes."

"Good choice," Remus praised, imagining all the delights that the future might create, "I hope that the future brings more exquisite chocolates with it."

"Of course Moony got caught up with chocolate," James shook his head fondly, "when chocolate is involved, I'm certain he can do anything."

"What can I say?" Remus shrugged, "chocolate's delicious."

"We don't have such a homely village back at home," Victor observes the small town with wide eyes, "we only have the Place Cachèe and a few other more formal shopping areas. This place seems a lot more friendly than in France."

"I personally think Uncle Austin's shop is better," Layla voiced her opinion as they shopped at Honeydukes, "this is missing something."

"I think you may just like Uncle Austin's better because Frey works there," Boaz Cartier entered the shop, "what a coincidence my dear cousins."

"Bonjour," Damian greets his younger cousin, "didn't think we'd see you here."

"Maman told me that she recalled liking a particular brand of chocolate from this store," Boaz said, "so I came to check it out."

"What brand do you like?" Stefan turns to his younger cousin, "I'd be happy to stock some up for your next visit."

"I like the Charm Chocs," Lillian blushed as she answered. She would have never thought that her love for those sweets would be outed by her future child!

"I'll be sure to remember," Stefan noted down her likes. It was rare for his maternal uncle's children to visit, so he'd like for their visits to be nothing but pleasant.

"Aunt Lillian likes chocolate?" Victor asked confusedly, "That's news to me."

"She apparently likes this kind," Boaz took a few boxes of Charm Chocs off the shelves, "so I think I'll buy some for her birthday."

"That's nice of you," Layla grins, "I'm sure Auntie will love it."

"I sure hope so," Boaz turned to Victor, "Vic, do you think you can help me select something for Izzy? I promised to bring back souvenirs."

"Sure," Victor followed his cousin, "you can go on without me guys."

"Alright," Damian agrees, "just make sure to stay safe."

"You got it, Damian," Victor saluted his older brother, before following his younger cousin to another shelf. The rest of them payed for their sweets, and exited the store

"They're all so wholesome," Lillian cooed at the screen, "Maman, look at my boy."

"I see Lillian," Antiope smiled indulgently, "he's very adorable."

"Isn't he?" Lillian swooned, "St. Martha's, he's a cute one. To be expected; after all, both I and my future husband are incredibly good looking."

"Indeed," Antiope agreed, finding her daughter's excitement endearing, "you are both very beautiful."

"See Father," a brunette pointed at their group, specifically Damian and Layla, "I told you they looked like us. Also, I asked around and found out that their last name is Greengrass. I'm telling you it's suspicious."

An older man appeared in their vicinity. He was on the shorter side, but was very well-built. He had beautiful blond hair that curled slightly at the top. What made him stand out, at least to the Greengrass triplets, were his eyes. The green of his eyes was identical to the jade green that Larissa, Damian, and Layla shared.

"Is that who I think it is?" Andrea covered her mouth in shock, "Edgar, could that possibly be Stefan?"

"I think so," Edgar grinned upon seeing his son in the vision, "and look, a child called him father. We're grandparents!"

"Congrats older brother," Leanne congratulated her oldest sibling, "you have carried on the family name."

"Thank you Leanne," Stefan responded to his younger sister. He was still in shock. Was he really a father?

"Excuse me," the man approached them, "would the two of you happen to have the surname Greengrasss?"

"I don't speak to strangers," Layla turned away from the man, suspicious of him. She ran her mother's descriptions of her siblings through her head. Silas and Stefan were the ones with blonde hair, though Silas' eyes were blue. If the blonde and green eyes were combined, in addition to the man's remarkable resemblance to her mother, this man was surely her older brother Stefan. And knowing his role in her mother's desperate flight to France, she was unsafe around him.

"Then perhaps we ought to become familiar with one another," the man proposed, "I am Lord Stefan Greengrass of the Noble and Esteemed House of Greengrass. Besides me is my daughter Daphne. Now that we are familiar, could you please answer my question?"

"We don't talk to strangers," Rolf positioned himself in front of the small group, "and if you continue to harass us Mr. Greengrass, I will call the aurors." 

"You would dare speak to me that way," Stefan's anger rose, "do you have no respect boy? You are speaking to a Lord of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"And I could care less," Rolf snapped back, "you've done absolutely nothing to benefit society. In fact, you're just acting like a pedophile or kidnapper by speaking to underage children. Please leave us before I call the authorities."

"What a brave boy," Dumbledore said admiringly, "I wonder why he wasn't put in Gryffindor."

"You don't have to be in Gryffindor to be brave Headmaster," Filius reminded his boss, "many of my eagles are far braver than any of Minerva's lions."

"Right Filius," Albus felt slightly ashamed at being called out like that, "my apologies."

"I cannot believe a mere half-blood dares to speak to me like this," Stefan sneers at Rolf, "you have some nerve boy."

"Come on," Rolf pulls them along, "we have better things to do than entertain clowns."

"You'll regret this," Stefan cursed as they retreated. When they were out of his sight, he turned to his daughter. "Keep an eye on them Daphne. There's something up with them."

"Yes Father," Daphne bowed her head slightly, "I'll also inform Astoria and Andrea about this."

"Don't instruct Andrea in anything," Stefan warns his daughter, "I don't wish for Edmund to claim I am trying to control his daughter"

"It seems that we've both fathered daughters," Edmund turns to his older brother, "isn't this amazing brother?"

"Indeed," Stefan agreed, "though I wish that we at least had confirmation of a son. Someone must carry on the name."

"Don't be too down," Edgar comforted his sons, "I'm sure that one of you will sire a son."

November 24th, 1994.

"Go Fleur!" Estelle was cheering for her cousin, "you'll do wonderfully."

"She can't hear you," Layla rolled her eyes, "it's too loud."

"I can't believe they chose dragons," Jean was still in disbelief, "and did you see what that Hogwarts boy did? Distracting the dragon with a dog was clever."

"I'm more excited to see how Fleur does," Layla refocused her attention on the task, "I saw her practicing charmwork in the library the other day. Whatever she's going to do, it's going to be spectacularly brilliant."

"I doubt it will be flashy though," Estelle said worriedly, "Fleur's more pragmatic when it comes to fights. I'm worried her technique won't impress the judges enough."

"Hopefully a true judge would judge off the ability to get the task done," Antiope scowled at the thought of corruption, "and not the flashiness it shows the crowd."

"Did she just charm that dragon to sleep?" Rolf stared at Fleur gobsmacked, "Merlin's beard she's cool! It takes at least four professional dragon tamers to do that normally; she's incredible!"

"Grandad would love to meet her," Yusuf agreed with Rolf's estimation of Fleur, "not just anyone can charm a dragon like that."

"Look, it's Harry," Selena pointed as Harry Potter and Viktor Krum came out of the tent. True to Larissa's rewriting of the contract, Harry assisted Viktor by handing him his wand, refilling his water, and covering his blind sides. It was menial work, but far better than fighting a dragon all on his own. Viktor gave an impressive performance; he shot a conjunctivitis curse straight into the dragon's eyes. Unfortunately, to the Scamander grandchildren' dismay, the eggs of the dragon were crushed in the chaos.

"The poor babies," Rolf sobbed as he watched the tamers calm the mother, "this is horrible."

"Mom's going to be so sad when we tell her," Flora wiped away tears, "and so will Grandad and Grandma. Do you think Grandad will say or do anything?"

"I won't be surprised if he rips into the minister," Yusuf proclaims honestly, "I think he'll be that mad."

"They're not wrong," Fleamont sighs, "Newt goes berserk when the innocent are harmed. Especially when those innocents are animals being used as mere entertainment for humans."

"I just hope that Tina won't have to clean up his messes again," Euphemia shook her head, "at least leave the clean up to Theseus."

When the results were revealed, all of Beauxbatons was furious. 

"I cannot believe they gave her a thirty-two!" Felicity fumed in the safety of their room, "so what if her skirt was burnt! That only happened after she put the dragon to sleep, and happened by accidentally getting in between the Dragon's sleep fire breathing. Her method was the safest and most effective. Krum destroyed the eggs and he got a forty!"

"I know," Ray threw her hands in anger, "are they sexist much?"

"That Ludo Bagman definitely is," Layla sneered, "unsure about the others. Durmstrang's headmaster just seems to be trying to get his student to win. I think it's unfair that the English have three votes: Bagman, Crouch, and Dumbledore. We only have Madam Maxime and Durmstrang only has whatever their headmaster's name is."

"That's just life," Gabrielle sighed bitterly, "unfair at best, horrid at worst."

December 8th, 1994.

"Happy birthday!" Damian and Victor surprised their sister. They had a bouquet of flowers and chocolates, all prepared for their sister.

"Sweet," Marlene complimented, "I wish my brothers were that nice."

"Thanks," Layla kissed her brothers' cheeks, "you two didn't have to do that."

"We wanted to," Victor slung an arm around his sister, "come on Layls. Come spend the day with your favorite wombmate."

"Her favorite womb mate would be me," Damian protested sternly, "don't go twisting this around."

"Can't be," Victor fought with Damian, "you left her in the womb first. Clearly I'm superior."

"Are they really fighting over that?" Eric Baunter whispered to Ray.

"I think so," Ray whispered back in response. "Personally, I agree with Victor."

"They're older," Guenvive observed, "their closer and closer to graduation. I have a feeling that this is only the beginning. We're inching closer and closer to the real truth: the real suffering that the goddess wants us to prevent."

"It's Asteria," Victor cried out as the fierce eagle landed on her master's shoulder. Layla cooed at the bird sweetly, before removing the birthday package from their mother. 

"Hi loves," the talking letter said to the three siblings, "happy fifteenth birthday! I know that the Yule Ball is coming up soon, so I took the liberty of gifting you jewelry for this birthday. I sent two pairs of cufflinks and a necklace. They should all be matching your Yule wear. I hope that you take the opportunity to wear the pieces, though I won't be offended if you don't. Leopold sends his regard, and has enclosed a birthday gift of his own for each of you. Hugs and Kisses from afar, Maman."

"I can't believe she did this," Layla shook her head fondly, "she always does go over the top."

"The jewelry is gorgeous though," Damian unpackaged the pieces, "she used our birthstones."

"Zircon cufflinks," Victor sighs, "we're wearing purples, whites, and blacks. Why would she send these? They wouldn't match."

"They're not wrong," Gloria tutted, "Zircon would look horrible with purple. Even if they are illegitimate, I do hope they don't sully themselves further by mixing the two."

"It's the thought that counts," Layla shrugs, "we'll find another time to wear them."

"We always do," Victor grins, wrapping his two siblings into a tight hug, "I have the best siblings."

"You do," the other two intoned together. They all beam at each other. There were three facts that would always remain true: their Maman loved them, they loved her, and they loved each other.

Chapter Text

There were two weeks until the Yule Ball, and the schools were filled with teenage love. You couldn't have one day without someone getting asked out, and it began to grate on Victor's nerves.

"Are they ever going to stop?" Victor whined as he collapsed on his bed, "Maman, I'm telling you, it's like they've all forgotten reason."

"I'm sorry about that," Larissa's voice rang through the communication device, "try your best not to let it get to you. I'd love to talk more, but Leopold and I have a conference we have to get to. I'm finally releasing the communicative devices, and the ministry has scheduled a conference to take place."

"Au revoir," Victor sighed as Larissa's face disappeared. 

"Victor?" Boaz Cartier stuck his head into the room, "can you give me a hand with my transfiguration homework?"

"Sure," Victor follows his cousin, "let's get to it."

"Their bond is sweet," Lillian coos, "look how he went to help Boaz with no complaint."

"We can see Lillian," Lyra rolled her eyes at her overdramatic older sister, "no need for dramatics."

"Hush," Lillian shushed her sister, "I'm watching my son."

"Hey Layla," Cesare approached Layla carefully, seemingly planning something.

"Oh," Layla looked up from her book. She was sitting on a windowsill overlooking the Great Lake, her long feet neatly crossed in a pretzel. "Bonjour Cesare."

"Room for another?" Cesare squeezed next to her, glancing over her shoulder, "is that Fantastic Beasts?"

"Yeah," Layla blushes, "Selena lent me her copy yesterday. It's truly a remarkable piece of literature."

"It is," Cesare agrees, "revolutionary as well. Until Mr. Scamander wrote it and brought attention to the plight of magical beasts, people couldn't care less about what happened to them. Mr. Scamander changed the way people saw magical creatures."

"He's quite incredible," Layla smiled, "and also very kind."

"Newt is definitely kind," Fleamont agrees with Layla's statement, "sometimes too kind."

"Like you," Cesare flattered, "although you're much prettier." Layla turned as red as her hair. She knew she was pretty, she looked far too much like her gorgeous Maman to ever doubt that, but this was the first time someone other than family had said as much.

"Thank you," Layla responded unsurely. She had a feeling about what was going to come next, and she didn't know how to feel about it. 

"Would you like to go to the ball with me?" Cesare finally blurted out, his true intentions finally coming out.

Layla considered the offer she had seen coming. She liked Cesare a lot; he was a great friend and handsome to boot. However, she'd never gone on a date before, let alone gone to a ball with someone. She was a little nervous; it was a big first to take. However, she'd never get another chance to give it a shot if she said no. Worst comes to worst, Damian will hex him. 

"Sure," Layla smiled at Cesare, "I'd be happy to go with you."

"Cute," Lyra declares, poking Daniel on the cheek, "Dan, did you watch that?"

"Yes Lyra," Daniel rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "you know, sometimes I feel like I'm the older sibling and not you."

"Ouch," Lyra feigned insulted, "I can't believe you say such a thing to your big sister."

"You're just proving my point," Daniel sighs, as Lyra sputters. Guenevive, who had been watching, shakes her head fondly. Those two would never stop bickering.

"You're what!" Damian and Victor couldn't believe their ears. It couldn't be possible. Their little sister couldn't possibly have a date.

"I'm going to the ball with Cesare," Layla repeated herself, "that means you're going to be dateless Damian."

"Besides the point," Victor was shocked, "I'm just coming to terms with what you've just told me. Since when were you interested in Cesare?"

"Since today apparently," Layla shrugged, "I always thought he was nice, handsome, and all, but I never would have thought that my feelings were romantic in nature. I sort of understood that I liked him like that when he asked me out earlier."

"I for one already knew he was interested," Damian revealed, "for Merlin's sake Lay! He sent you a birthday gift all the way from England!"

"The Scamanders and Shacklebolts also did," Layla defended her past, oblivious self, "it's not strange."

"They sent all three of us presents," Damian reminded her, "and our families are friends, so it's not strange. He sent only you a gift, of course he had some other motive, namely, that he liked you."

"It's so strange watching a scenario that would totally play out in our dorm," Marlene whispered to Lily, "like, how often do we end up gossiping about the couples in school? Also, that's not even bringing up how oblivious you are to Potter's genuine affection for you, and that you like him as well."

"Shut up," Lily blushed a deep red, turning away from her friend, "I don't like Potter like that. He may have matured slightly, but he's still the same arrogant toe-rag."

"No need to press Leny," Mary smirked, "she'll come around eventually. We know that Harry is their kid, so inevitably they end up together. Let's just let fate run its course." 

"You two are so mean," Lily groans as her friends laugh. In their opinion, Lily could use some teasing every so often.

"Okay, you may be right," Layla admitted, "but what will you do for a date? Victor and Ray are going as friends, but we were going to go together."

"I'll just go stag," Damian shrugs, "I'm not particularly interested in finding a date. I'm sure they'll be plenty of fun to have, even if I don't take someone."

"If that's what makes you happy go ahead," Victor turns to his brother, "but think about it hard. If you want a date, we're happy to help you. Just don't ignore your desires for our sake."

"I won't," Damian promised, "I'm just not too concerned with dating right now. We're fifteen. There will be plenty of time. For now, I'm far more interested in having fun with you two. Just because you two are taking dates, doesn't mean we can't hang out as well."

"I thought we were going to get more love," Lyra pouted, "oh well, I'll settle for their sibling love instead."

"You are a menace," Daniel grumbled under his breath. 

  "You're right," Victor grinned, "we'll have to take lots of pictures for Maman. She'll be sad to miss us this year."

December 25th, 1994.

"You look wonderful," Estelle complimented Layla as she walked out of her room, "Aunt Rissa certainly has taste."

"Thank you," Layla giggled. Her dress was certainly stunning. The long, flowing material was her favorite shade of violet. The dress had pleated areas that folded over each other, with glittering gold threads sewn on the folds. There were two huge butterflies, colored in white, blue, and green, imprinted on the material, one starting at the rib area and down towards her mid thigh and the other on the bottom, half cut off. There were white flowers as well, tied to gold threads, that formed a sort of belt around her waist. More flowers were scattered out from there, and as the dress trailed up, stopped right before her collar bone. The dress only covered her right shoulder and arm, the other being left bare. On her left wrist lay a band made of the same violet material as the dress. Half of her red locks were pinned with pins into a bun, while the rest tumbled down her back in neat curls. Clipped in the bun was a gorgeous butterfly clip, a gift from her Aunt Antiope. Around her neck, despite not matching, was the Zircon necklace her mother had gifted her for her birthday.

"Merlin she's gorgeous," Leanne couldn't help but admire the girl who she, unfortunately, shared blood with, "she looks like Mother."

"You're not wrong," Gloria bit her lip, not wanting to praise a bastard child, "she does look like Mother."

"What a beautiful lady," Molly admired the pretty girl, "Gideon, do you think my daughter will make an appearance?"

"I sure hope so sister dearest," Gideon responded, "we've only seen her once, it'd be nice to see her again."

"Our cousin tells it as she sees it," Victor approaches his sister to kiss her on the cheek, "my dear, wondrous sister, you look absolutely mesmerizing."

Victor himself was dressed in the Yule wear Larissa had bought. His white pants were carefully pressed, with gold swirls coming up the pant legs. On one of the swirls, lay a gold butterfly. Victor's undershirt was white and covered by a black vest that had gold accents. Light swirls were carefully tailored onto the vest. On top of both was a long, black overcoat that slowly transitioned to light violet on the bottom. Coming up from the hem, the violet section of the coat had gold patterns swirling. The two open sides of the coat each had half a butterfly. If Victor were to button his coat, the butterfly would be completed. Hanging off his belt was a butterfly ornament, one that Antiope had also gifted him. It had been clipped to the belt for the occasion. A lilac silk scarf with gold threads fraying off of it was wrapped over one shoulder, and pinned over his chest by another ornament. His shoes were neat black dress shoes, with similar gold patterns to the coat detailed on them.

"Wait for me," Damian, dressed in identical Yule wear to Victor, rushed out, "let's get a picture for Maman."

"I'll take it," Estelle offered, "your Maman asked that I take pictures of all three of you together, as well as of Layla and Victor with their dates."

Estelle herself was dressed beautifully in yellow-gold. Her dress was simple, in the sense that it was simply made of flowing yellow- gold material and decorated with glitter and inscribed with images of feathers. The dress was tied around her upper chest like a knot, with the sleeves only touching the edges of her shoulders, as they were part of the support for the knot. The remaining material for the knot hung neatly off her chest, occasionally seeming like a bow. The gorgeous dress glimmered as she walked, flowing with her every step.

"Look at the camera," Estelle called out. The three siblings smiled for the camera, which immediately printed the picture. They also decided to do a moving picture. Damian and Victor grabbed their sister, and placed her on both of their shoulders, cackling the entire time. Layla laughed as they tried to balance her; they couldn't do it for long and put her down.

"We should do that with Molly," Fabian suggested to his twin brother, "what do you think Gideon?"

"I'd love to," Gideon hesitated, glancing at his sister. When he noticed her talking to Arthur he continued. "But I think she'll hex us if we even try."

"You're right," Fabian winced, "let's leave such ideas for the nephews. I'm sure they'd be happy to do it with us. Maybe Arthur will."

"We can ask him later," Gideon grinned, "oh that'll be golden."

"Go get Ray," Estelle commanded her younger cousin, "it's picture time."

"Yes Ma'am," Victor saluted, and ran off to get his friend.

"Cesare's here for Layla," Boaz Cartier informed the cousins. As a third year, Boaz was unable to attend the ball. Estelle would have taken him, but a friend had asked her out first. 

"Hey," Layla shyly approached her partner, "you look nice."

Cesare was dressed in traditional English Wizard's attire; he was dressed far more traditionally than her brothers. Still, he looked handsome in his navy blue robes. His chestnut brown hair was gelled back, and the navy contrasted his tan skin well. He stared at her for a few moments, gobsmacked. Layla looked incredible.

"You look magnificent," Cesare extended his hand, "care to join me in heading to the hall?"

"Pictures first," Estelle waved her camera, "look here you two."

After taking pictures, the two were off to the ball. Victor eventually returned with Ray, who was dressed beautifully in plum. She had opted for more simplicity; her dress had ruffles and sparkles, but not much more. Once the two of them took pictures, they were all off.

'I wonder how the hall will look," Minerva wondered aloud, "we haven't had a Yule ball in decades, perhaps even centuries."

"Indeed," Dumbledore stroked his beard, "I'm certain that we will bedazzle the hall to the max."

"Who taught you to say that?" Minerva looked at Albus strangely, "you know what? I don't want to know."

"You look stunning," Flora's eyes were wide when Cesare and Layla arrived in the hall, "did your mother pick it out for you?"

"Yes," Layla answered smilingly, "I'm matching with the boys, wherever they are."

"Layla!" Rolf ran towards her, enveloping her in a hug, "Merlin's beard you're looking pretty. Oi Nott," he paused to glare in Cesare's direction, "don't break her heart, got it?"

"Wasn't planning on," Cesare laughed, "but I won't Rolf, you can let go of her."

"Too bad Selena can't come," Flora frowned, "she would have loved to see you all dolled up."

'I'll show her the pictures," Layla smiled, "now let's go enjoy ourselves."

"That's her," Daphne Greengrass pointed Layla out to a girl with dirty blonde hair, "follow her and find out exactly who she is. I'm almost certain that she is a Greengrass; I just need confirmation."

"She's doing a good job," Edgar praised his granddaughter, "she's taking initiative. I like that trait, Stefan. You did well."

"Thank you Father," Stefan preened at his father's praise. While praise wasn't uncommon in their home, every instance was still eagerly awaited.

"Are you sure Daph?" the blonde asked uncertainly, "stalking isn't exactly well-received. Also, Nott is her date. He'll definitely keep her away from me; he's a quick caster, I don't want to get hexed."

"Well then be covert Tracey," Daphne narrowed her eyes in Layla's direction, "and if that's too difficult, get someone else to do it."

"Alright," Tracey Davis sighed, "I hope you know what you're doing."

Suddenly, the music rang out, and the champions and their dates arrived. The three pairs opened the ball, and with that, the event truly began.

"Let's dance," Cesare pulled Layla to the dance floor. Layla, who had only had lessons that summer, was nervous to take to the floor. Her nerves melted away as Cesare smiled gently, squeezing her hand to reassure her.

"Are you sure you won't be too lonely?" Victor asked Damian as he prepared to go dance with Ray.

"I'm certain," Damian reassured his brother, "I'll be fine. I'll take Layla for a dance when she and Cesare are done and if anyone I know asks for a dance, I'll indulge. You just have fun."

Larissa observed her son. He seemed uncomfortable with the whole ball. Perhaps there was something deeper going on. He seemed happy to dance with whomever would ask, but didn't want to seek anyone out himself, save for his sister. Was he afraid of rejection?

"Alright," Victor glanced once more at his brother, before running off with Ray. Damian sighed in relief, before sharpening his gaze. He hated parties like these. They reminded him of his mother's story, something that he didn't like thinking about.  He sat down at a table, resolving to keep an eye out for trouble.

"Care for a dance?" Estelle offered a hand to her younger cousin, "my date bailed."

"Of course," Damian would never turn down a dance from a loved one, "let's go."

Damian and Estelle took to the dance floor, gold and black swirling as Damian twirled his older cousin. Victor and Damian caught each other's eyes, and after a while, swapped partners.

"Good evening Ms. Silver," Damian greeted as he fell into step with his brother's best friend, "has Victor been treating you well?"

"Of course," Ray laughed as she twirled, "perfect gentleman and best friend."

"Good, good," Damian laughed, "didn't expect anything else."

"Are you having fun?" Cesare asked Layla as they sat down, "I would really hope so. As your partner, it is my duty to ensure your enjoyment."

"At least he's acting gentlemanly," Antiope silently raised Cesare's ranking in her books. She hadn't liked him on principle; she knew how teen boys think. However, the charming lad proved to be a decent person, so Antiope lowered her suspicions.

"I'm having a lot of fun," Layla giggled as Cesare pulled out a chair for her, "it's my first time at such an event."

"Count yourself lucky," Cesare scrunched his nose, "this particular ball may be fun, but most galas are stuffy and boring. It's probably the fact that the majority of the people at this ball are our age that makes this one enjoyable."

"Is this seat taken?" a dirty blonde girl that Layla didn't recognize asked. Judging by her style of dress, Layla assumed that she was a Hogwarts student. The Durmstrang girls wore much heavier robes and gowns than the Beauxbatons girls did; the Hogwarts girls wore robes that were far more traditional, like the girl sitting down at the table.

"It is," Cesare swiftly answered, "we have friends who will be coming momentarily." He knew who Tracey Davis was, and likely, what her agenda was.

"Oh," Tracey feigned disappointment, "I'll just go find another one." She glanced at Layla's dress before commenting, "Wow, that dress is so beautiful. You look absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," Layla replied, "yours is beautiful as well."

"Thank you," Tracey then slapped her head, "oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself. I'm Tracey Davis."

"Davis," Stefan contemplated the name, before remembering where he had last heard it. His fiancèe, Selena Rosier, had a friend, Amanda Knowle, who was engaged to a Phillip Davis. Perhaps this child was theirs. It would make sense for his own daughter to be friends with her then.

"Layla Greengrass," Layla responded in turn. Tracey's eyes widened slightly at the confirmation, before she quickly schooled her face. 

"Nice meeting you Layla," Tracey said quickly, "I'd love to chat, but I think my date found us a table. Enjoy your evening."

Tracey ran to Daphne, ignoring the strange looks she got for running rampantly in the middle of a ball.

"Did you find an answer?" Daphne raised an eyebrow at Tracey's behavior.

"She's a Greengrass," Tracey confirmed, "her name is Layla Greengrass."

"Bingo," Daphne's lips curled into a smirk, "that gives me something to work with."

Chapter Text

January 8th, 1995. 

Stefan Greengrass sits calmly at the head of the table. His wife, Selena Greengrass nèe Rosier, sits beside him, carefully manicured nails gripping into the skin of his arm.Surrounding them on all sides, were the remaining Greengrass siblings along with their spouses. 

"Thank you all for coming so quickly," Stefan thanks his siblings, "it's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Indeed Stefan," an older Gloria smiles toward her brother, "it has been a while. Ezekiel and I haven't been here in a while." Her husband, Ezekial Avery, looks as if he wishes to be anywhere else. He didn't like attending Greengrass gatherings, but Stefan had said it was urgent, hence, he and his wife were attending. 

"So our deal with the Averys went well," Edgar turns to his daughter, "congratulations Gloria."

"Thank you Father," Gloria says hesitantly. She didn't like Ezekial Avery; he harassed her often in school. Was she really to be his wife?

Leanne smirked. Her whispers in her father's ears had done their job. In successfully advising her father regarding her older siblings matches, she gained his confidence in her abilities. When it would come to her own match, she'd be able to choose on her own.

She may be young, but she was cleverer than her naive older sister and brother. They wouldn't see it coming.

"What did you find out?" Leanne spat out bluntly, "don't be foolish Stefan. We haven't had an emergency meeting like this since Mother's hospitalization. We all would have received the news if she had died, so it's not that. What the hell do you need from us all at ten in the evening?"

"Excuse my wife's language," Theodore Yaxley hastily placated his brother-in-law, "pregnancy does things to one's moods."

"I fully meant every word," Leanne hushed her husband with a hand to his mouth, "go on Stefan, share your oh so brilliant wisdom with us."

Andrea gasped when he saw her beautiful youngest daughter. Leanne had certainly grown into her looks. Leanne certainly embodied the beauty that House Greengrass was well known for. 

"You look gorgeous," Silas told his little sister with a smile, "and you haven't lost your sharp tongue either."

"Did you truly believe I ever would?" Leanne asked, raising an eyebrow,

Silas coughed and looked away. He'd take this secret to his grave: he was terrified of his baby sister.

Leanne glanced at the man who claims to be her husband in the future. Anyone who he could be was much younger, so looks were barely a help. She'd have to rely on key traits. He had platinum blond hair, so he was either a Malfoy, which was impossible, a Fawley, which was unlikely, or a Yaxley, which had merits to it. Seeing the man's purple eyes, she concluded that it must be one of the three Yaxley boys: Corban Jr, Theodore, or Richard. Since Theodore and Richard were the only children that inherited the purple eyes of the Travers, she likely married Theodore. Richard was her junior, and when pureblood men are on the look for wives, they prefer them to be younger than them.

"I don't understand how you allow your wife to speak to you like that," Ezekial Avery sneered at Theodore, "you should teach her to keep quiet and not to insult the Lords of noble houses."

"Who do you think calls the shots in this marriage?" Leanne and Theodore say in sync, smiling lovingly at each other. Of all the siblings, Stefan and Leanne were the only two to marry for love.

"Always knew that Leanne would be a feisty one," Lyra Delancy laughed "she's too strong-headed to ever be a submissive wife. It seems that her husband truly loves her. Good for her."

"Enough bickering," Stefan pinches his nose. Ezekial was a horrible fit for his family; he'd never understand why his father had been so adamant on the match. Sure they got a few thousand galleons, a few jewels, and a few Abraxians in the dowry, but Ezekial refused to cooperate with them when needed. He rarely attended family events, and was nowhere close to becoming the lord. What exactly were the benefits his father saw?

"I have half a mind to just up and leave," Silas sighed, "nothing constructive is resulting from this gathering. It's bad enough I had to leave my boys alone with the elves; get to the point, or I'm leaving."

"I thought you'd be more respectful to the Lord," Selena Greengrass tsked, "listen closely to my husband's words, or you will see your annual budget decrease."

Silas and Edmund tensed. They were the only two still under the Greengrass name; they had a lot to lose if Stefan got mad at them.

"Thank you," Stefan appreciated the quiet, "now, onto business. As you all are aware, the triwizard tournament has been taking place at Hogwarts. My daughter, Daphne, owled me months ago about some strange children from Beauxbatons."

"So we had to leave our comfortable homes to attend this dumb meeting because Daphne is suspicious of someone," Edmund groaned, "Stefan, my darling older brother, that girl of yours is suspicious of everyone."

"Seems that your child is a little paranoid," Edgar laughed, "apparently enough so that all of her aunts and uncles are well aware and exasperated with it."

Stefan just blushed beet red. He had suddenly recalled what exactly it meant for him to have had a child.

"That's what I thought as well," Stefan agreed, "so I ignored her. However, she would not relent. She kept insisting that I meet up with her in Hogsmeade and she'd prove to me that she was right."

"So you met the children and agreed that they're suspicious," Leanne said, "cut to the chase. What were they suspicious for and what do you need us to do?"

"Daphne found them suspicious because she said they looked like Greengrasses," Selena answered for her husband, "Stefan decided to humor her, mainly because her letters were getting obnoxious. Daphne was right for once. According to Stefan, they look exactly like Greengrasses."

"I tried asking them who they were," Stefan continued, "but a boy intervened and took them away before I could get any answers. Daphne sent the Davis girl to check it out at the Yule Ball, and the results were conclusive. The children are Greengrasses. We are gathered here today to get to the bottom of it."

"This is what you dragged me out for?" Leanne hisses, nearly leaping out of her seat. Her husband desperately pulls her down, begging her to be careful for their child's sake. "For Larissa's kids?"

"Seems that Leanne is in the know," Antiope frowned, "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."

The room froze at Leanne's angered declaration. None of them had thought of their disowned sister in years. She was simply an old embarrassment, a story long pruned from their history.

"Elaborate," Stefan demanded, his eyes harsh and cold at the reminder of the sister he failed to capture in the first war. He remembered the painful experience of having a blood traitor for a sister, how it ruined his credibility in the Death Eaters' circles. Somehow, that slippery woman had escaped them all. "Explain how our disowned sister, the one we hunted down for years to get rid of, somehow has children."

"You all really are slow," Leanne rolled her eyes, "did none of you put the pieces together?"

"Clearly not Leanne," Silas said tightly, "please, by all means, educate us on what we missed."

"The Delacncys have barely spoken to us in fifteen years," Leanne began listing, "suspiciously aligns with the time frame of Larissa's disappearance. We've all been receiving anonymous gifts on special occasions; these gifts reference childhood memories and interests that only one of us would know. The kids are from Beauxbatons which screams France, where the relatives who have been ignoring us since our sister was disowned live. The reason our sister was disowned was because she got pregnant out of wedlock. Is it really that surprising?"

The room was quiet. Leanne was right of course. Given the evidence, that was the conclusion they should have reached years ago. They should have known Larissa was alive and with the Delancys years ago.

"Oh," Leanne asks mockingly, knowing what information she was going to drop next, "you didn't know about this? I've known for years. Larissa has done very well for herself. I'm impressed and honored to be her sister."

"Leanne?" The entire Delancy and Greengrass families turned to their sister/cousin.

"What about me?" Leanne fakes confusion. Her angel-like beauty and innocent attitude to others had deceived them for years. Leanne couldn't care less about blood purity, she'd seen purebloods with less power than muggleborns have in their pinkies, after all. All Leanne cared about was power and ability. She wanted to be the best and have the best. She didn't want fruits that look fresh and good, but when you peel them, they turn out rotten. No. She wanted the real and unfiltered talent and power there was in this world. She may be young, but she was far wiser and aware than those on her level. However, now was not the time to say that. She suspected that the visions would show it.

"Are you a traitor as well?" Edgar fumed at his daughter. He couldn't believe that two of them had betrayed what he had taught them.

"I don't know what's in the future," Leanne let her lip tremble, "why don't we see what she has to say?"

"Leanne's right," Silas agreed, "let's see what her future self has to say."

"You knew where she was all this time!" shouts broke out as the Greengrass siblings came to terms with the fact that one of them was holding back information.

"Of course I did," Leanne flipped her hair, "it wasn't hard. I suspected she was there because where else would she go other than Aunt Antiope? Once I was of age, I asked an old friend in the French ministry to confirm it for me. I kept quiet all these years, mainly because I was worried that if I contacted her, it would expose her whereabouts to all of you and endanger her and the children. However, since you know now, I can finally speak to her."

"You will not speak a word to her," Stefan warned his sister, "the two of you get the majority of your funding from the Greengrass family. If you dare to contact her, I will cut you two off."

Leanne locked eyes with her husband, who nodded once. 

"Cut us off then," Leanne looked straight at Stefan, "my little family has been self-sufficient for the last four years. You have nothing over Theo and I anymore. Disown me if you wish; we need nothing from the House of Greengrass. I need nothing from a family of so-called pure-bloods that can't get their act together."

"You allow her to mock the purity of the House of Greengrass?" Hazel Greengrass née Parkinson, the wife of Silas, asks Theodore, "you are a Yaxley! How can you allow her to spout such blood-traitor nonsense?"

"Because she and I share the same ideals," Theodore replied sharply, "power, talent, and might before blood. Allow those who learn and discover to prosper over those who don't. Never remain stagnant and move forward. That is what we believe and what we teach our children. If you have a problem with it, do keep it to yourself."

"Since when?" Gloria begged her little sister, "how long have you been a blood-traitor?"

"I always have," Leanne answered coolly, "I never believed a single thing that Mother or Father preached. I blamed all the anti-pureblood agendas found in the house on Larissa once she left. I have a lot to apologize for once I reach out to her. I hope she can forgive me."

With that, the Yaxley couple leaves Greengrass mansion. The rest of the family simply sit in shock.

"I never would have thought that such things would come from the Greengrasses," Arcturus Back whispered to his wife, "did you ever think there was such things bubbling under the surface?"

"Never," Melania was shocked, "they always seemed quiet and unassuming. Who would have thought that they would sprout two blood-traitors?"

"To think we thought of engaging her to Regulus," Walburga hissed, "what trickery. We will have to find a better match."

Regulus himself was shocked. He knew Leanne Greengrass' reputation in school. The Slytherin Angel that never did anything wrong and was the firmest and staunchest believer in the purity of her blood. She had publicly stated that she'd only marry the purest. What has changed?

"How dare you?" Edgar thundered, his ire provoked by the visions, "I will have to re-educate you once we are freed from this place. For now, you will sit quietly. You will have a severe punishment when we go home."

Leanne trembled; she had expected this. She only hoped it wouldn't be too bad of a punishment. Her father was never much on physical discipline, but with what he knows of the future, he may make an exception. She had thought she'd have more time before he'd find out. At this rate, she'd be married and sold off to someone horrible. This wasn't good at all.

"My apartment is open," Larissa quietly offered, looking her youngest sibling in the eye, "you can come live with me. It might not be much, but I'll welcome you with open arms."

Leanne's eyes widened. Her older sister knew how she would treat her in the future, yet she still offered her a safe haven?

"Why?" Leanne asked, the eyes of all their other siblings on them, "I'm not very nice to you in the future."

"You were only a child when I was disowned," Larissa points out, "and I was missing from then on. I can't expect a child to try and find me. The fact that future you is apologetic is all that matters. Moreover, you're still my little sister. You haven't done any of that yet. Heck, we only found out that this is all going to happen a few hours ago. If you need safety, I am happy to give it to you."

"Don't you dare," Gloria glares at her younger sister, "you haven't done anything yet. You'll only get a small punishment and everything will be alright. don't become a blood-traitor like her."

"We will find you Leanne," Stefan warns her, "and we're much stronger. You better stay put, or suffer the consequences."

"Stop threatening my niece," Antiope stands and walks over to her niece, slowly removing her from their presence. "She's only a child."

"Stop interfering Antiope!" Andrea shouts at her late brother's widow, "you have no position to interfere."

"Don't care," Antiope shrugged, "stop me if you can."

It seemed as if a fight was going to break out. People were gearing up to go to all out battle. The teachers prepared to defend their students. The aurors went into battle positions. The other families just watched in horror. 

Suddenly, the goddess from before arrived. She snapped her fingers, and the seats in the room were quickly rearranged, with Leanne and Larissa safely away from their family. 

"Stop fighting," the Queen of Witches commanded. Sigils appeared in the air and popped onto everyone's wrists. "This should prevent any fighting. I brought you here to fix things, not make them worse." She approached Larissa, kissed her on the cheek, and disappeared. Silence rang in the room. No one dared to speak.

February 24th, 1995.

"I can't believe it's time for the second task," Layla eagerly skipped along, "how do you think Fleur will do?"

"Not too well," Cesare answered, holding her hand, "she's part Veela, right?"

"Yeah," Layla answered, before realizing what Cesare meant, "water."

"Water," Cesare agreed, "Veelas are creatures of fire. Water douses and slows them. This is a water task."

"Who will win then?" Layla asked, "Krum?"

"I don't know," Cesare shrugged, "I just know it won't be Delacour."

Ever since the ball, Layla and Cesare became an item. Rolf was very offended in the beginning. He said that his best friend had betrayed him by quote on quote "seducing" his other best friend. Eventually he relented, and took to teasing them at every given moment.

"You guys are so cute," Jean Janed cooed from behind them, "but you better not leave me behind."

"Never Jeanny," Layla swore, and grinned at her best friend, "you're sitting with us, right?"

"Indeed I am," Jean grinned. Together, the three sat down, waiting for the events of the third task.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe they're making us stare at a lake for an hour," Damian pouted, "I could be practicing my dueling instead."

"Stop pouting," Boaz Cartier rolled his eyes, "you've already mastered the curriculum for your next two years in school. You don't need practice."

"Lucky," Victor grumbled, "I'm still stuck on third level hex deflection. How'd you figure it out?"

"You have to put more precision into your swishes," Damian advised his brother, "I notice you have a very flowy way of swishing. While that's good for enchantment and herbology geared spells, it's unsuitable for dueling. I'm surprised Monsieur Alfonso hasn't pointed it out to you yet."

"Thanks," Victor grinned, swishing his wand with more firmness, "have you moved on to non-verbal wand casting?"

"Not yet," Damian confessed, ears turning red, "don't tell Maman, but I've been focusing on something else."

"What have you been doing?" Boaz's eyes widened. He had never heard Damian ever ask for something to be kept from his mother. The triplets, for better or for worse, told their mother everything . What was Damian planning?

"My son is so cute," Lillian couldn't contain herself. Little Boaz was too adorable for her to handle. If she recalled correctly, she had another son, Isidore, who went by the name Izzy. She hadn't seen him for a while, and was anxiously awaiting his appearance. 

"I've been working on creating spells and items that would be more suited to espionage, infiltration, and stealth," Damian admitted, whispering a muffling spell of his own creation, "times are changing. This tournament's twists and turns have proven that. Besides, I was always interested in such things anyway."

"You want to be a spy?" Victor raised an eyebrow, " you ? You're the least subtle person I know."

"Maybe," Damian pondered for a moment, "if the opportunity arises. I just feel that being able to hide from danger is preferable to fighting."

"Fair enough," Boaz laughs, "although, at the rate you're growing, I'm not sure you can hide at all."

"You got that right," Victor complained, "why is he so much taller than me? We grew in the same womb?"

"Hey," Damian protested, "I'm not that big."

"Is he embarrassed?" James spluttered, "who would be embarrassed about being as handsome and tall as that kid?"

"He's right," Marlene agreed, "I wish I had his height. Here I am stuck at 5'4."

"Stop being jealous," Lily rolled her eyes, "you're quite literally average height. No need to be so sore."

"That's the problem Lils," Marlene groaned, "I'm only average. I'm so much more than an average person. How can I still be average height?"

"I give up," Lily shook her head fondly. If there was anything that Marlene was known for in the common room, it would be for her infamous rants about her height. Lily had given up trying to convince her that there was nothing wrong with her height.

That was, of course, a huge lie. Damian had almost completed growing, standing at 6'3 proudly. With his broad shoulders and height combined, Damian sometimes gave off the impression of being much older. He still had some growing to do, his mother and aunts estimating he'd grow another two or three inches at least, but he looked much older than his brother.

Victor was finally taller than Layla, standing at a clean 5'11. He was much leaner than his brother, with narrow shoulders that made him seem smaller than he was. His tan skin made his sea-green eyes pop out, and his hair, straight unlike his siblings' curls. Many people thought that Victor was the one who looked like their father, likely because his skin, eyes, and hair so fiercely contrasted his siblings'. 

However, despite what others may think, it was Damian, not Victor, who looked the most like their biological father. Damian's giant statue came from his father, as did the sharpness of his face, his smile, his nose, and many other aspects of Damian's appearance. In fact, the only thing that Damian didn't resemble his mysterious father in was his hair, skin, and eyes.

"You are," Boaz countered, nudging his cousin gently, "but that's the way we like you. You're perfect for getting things off of shelves."

"That's all that I'm good for?" Damian teased, lifting his cousin onto his shoulders, startling the people around him. As everyone was slightly bored of staring at the lake, heads swirled to look at them quicker than Damian had anticipated.

"Put him down," Victor glared at his brother, not liking the looks they were getting, "they're staring."

"So let them," Damian remained unfazed, "but I'll put Boaz down if it makes you happy."

"Cute dynamic they all have," Lyra commented excitedly, "isn't that right Daniel?"

"As you say Lyra," Daniel immediately replied tiredly, used to Lyra's antics. Sometimes, he felt as if he were the older sibling.

"Look!" someone in front of them shouted, "Delacour is back on the surface!"

"She seems roughed up," Boaz's eyes widened at the state of his second cousin, "where's Potter? Wasn't he supposed to be helping her?"

"Maybe he's still under?" Damian suggested, "Victor, why don't you transform and go find out?"

"On it," Victor nodded to his brother. He immediately shrunk down into his crow form, and took off in flight. He landed delicately at the pier, listening to the judges' conversation with Fleur.

"If any of them was suited to espionage it'd be him," Moody pointed out to Albus Dumbledore, "a small, winged creature is excellent for hiding in plain sight. The fact that he can fly makes escape much easier."

"Indeed," Albus agreed, "in fact, the form of a crow reminds me of Morgana Le Fay. She was said to be able to transform into a crow as well."

"I don't like that comparison," Moody frowned, narrowing his eyes at the child in the vision, "he's powerful. He can go the same route she did."

"Trust me Alastor," Albus sighed, "treating children as if their ways are set in stone is detrimental. Maybe, had I been more flexible in my views, the threat that is Voldemort would have been born. It would be highly unlikely, but still something I blame myself for every day."

"My sister!" Fleur was sobbing, "my sister is still down there. I couldn't make it past the grindylows."

"Where's Harry?" a young red haired man with horn rimmed glasses asked anxiously, "he was supposed to be with you."

"He went to find my sister," Fleur continued to cry, her worry for her sister evident, "I don't know when he'll be up."

"Mr. Diggory has arrived," a staff member shouted, rushing to the judges, "one minute outside the time limit, he's arrived with Ms. Chang."

"Good heavens," Minerva McGonagall rushed over to her students alongside Poppy Pomphrey.

"You're still saying that years later," Horace Slughorn laughed heartily, "Merlin's beard Minerva! Are you ever going to find a phrase other than good heavens?"

"Are you ever going to find another phrase other than Merlin's beard?" Minerva shot back, raising an eyebrow at her fellow professor.

"Touchè," Slughorn chuckled, "still, it's nice to know some things will never change, even after a decade."

Deciding he'd seen enough, Victor took flight once again, returning to his brother and cousin.

"What happened?" Damian eagerly asked his brother. He would have flown himself, but the seven foot wingspan of a golden eagle would make him very noticeable.

"She couldn't bring Gabrielle to the surface," Victor responded, catching his breath, "Potter is still down there, likely rescuing Gabrielle."

"I hope Gabie's going to be alright," Boaz clutched his wand nervously, "Veela and their descendants really don't do well with water."

"She's only a quarter Veela though," Damian comforted his cousin, "I'm sure Gabrielle is going to be fine."

"Potter's surfaced!" some Hogwarts student shouted, and all eyes turned to the surface. Sure enough, Viktor Krum and Harry Potter arrived at the surface, a brunette and blonde beside each of them respectively.

"She's alright," Boaz breathed a sigh of relief, "I'll have to go thank Potter later."

"That's my boy," the three Potters and Lily Evans said simultaneously. Lily blushed red at that, refusing to look James in the eye. Fleamont and Euphemia laughed at the disappointed look on their son's face. Perhaps he'd succeed in wooing her some day.

"Didn't think Potter would be able to do it," Rolf smirked as he watched the scoring, "not bad at all."

"Cedric's still in first place," Yusuf grinned widely, "Hogwarts for the win!"

"Isn't Harry going to be partnered with him next time?" Selena asked her older brother, "so far he's been with Krum and Delacour, so obviously Diggory's next."

"You're right," Yusuf responds, "Cedric was telling me about it just the other day."

"Are they going to practice together?" Flora asks her brother curiously, "what do you think?"

"Probably," Yusuf shrugs, "haven't asked him."

March 18th, 1995.

Damian is seen sitting on his bed, studying for an ancient runes quiz. A dinging sound is heard, and Damian leaps off the bed. He grabs his communication device. There were only three of them in the world -his, his mother's, and his step-father's- so it had to be one of them calling.

"Hey Damian," the voice of Adin Dupont greets him, surprising him beyond measure, "good to see you. Your step-father gave me this thing and said to call you. Ellen's right next to me by the way, there's just not enough space for us both to be seen."

"How?" Damian gapes, eyes widening at the sight of his friends, "Maman has barely made any of those."

"She made more and started selling them," Adin answered honestly, "your step-father gave one to me and Ellen because, and I am quoting, "Damian seems lonely and homesick. I'm sure he'd appreciate a call from his friends." So here we are."

"Seems that this mode of communication will be made public," Slughorn observed, "good for her. This will certainly make her more renowned than before. She might have gone under the radar before, but after that, the whole world would know what she did."

"Indeed," Flitwick agreed with his colleague, "it's wonderful to see one of our students prosper."

"That was sweet of Leopold," Clarene smiled, "it seems he's slipped into the role of step-father rather nicely."

"I just hope that the children of that world can truly accept him," Larissa looked at the vision of her son pensively, "the timeline will branch after all. Clarene, Serena, what should I do after all of this? I'm not going to have those kids ever; is there something I should do instead?"

"Depends on what you want," Serena answered after contemplating the question, "the person who accomplished all that we've seen is a completely different person. She had experiences that you will never have and made decisions based off of that. I don't necessarily think you need to intern under Monsieur Flamel and his wife. I think the person I'm talking to right now needs and deserves a quiet, fulfilling life; a life where you can tinker around and live out your academic dreams. I think you should move to France, yes, mainly because these bozos won't leave you alone, but I think you should try living as you did before, ignoring all of this."

"I agree with Rena," Clarene backed up her sister, "don't allow this viewing to dictate your life. The goddess gave us this opportunity for you. She wants you to live a better life. So take this golden opportunity to  live out the dreams the you of before had."

"Thank you," Larissa quietly thanked her cousins, "I'll have to think about this more it seems."

"He really said that?" Damian choked up, never having expected his step-father to have noticed.

"Yeah," Ellen's voice was heard off-screen, "and geez, he was right. I haven't seen you this pouty ever."

"I guess Hogwarts just isn't for me," Damian relaxed for the first time in a while. Sure they had been sending letters back and forth, but that was nothing in comparison to the real thing. "Tell me, how's our Beauxbatons doing?"

"Just as well as you would expect," Adin replied through the device, "the Silver team won the quidditch cup and your cousin Freya won the art contest. Nothing too interesting. You, on the other hand, must have the real scoop. We've been listening on the Wizarding Wireless, but that can't compare to the real thing."

"To be honest," Damian sighs, "nothing interesting is happening here. The biggest excitement, if you can even call it that, is that Harry Potter and Viktor Krum are supposedly in a love triangle with some girl. The poor girl gets hate mail galore; I have never seen that many howlers in my life."

"The rumor mill really amped up," Gideon Prewett was shocked, "was it ever that bad when we were in school?"

"Never," Molly Weasley responded to her brother's query, "and mind you, we had some real scandals when we were in school. Remember Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks? Merlin was a disaster when it came out."

"Don't remind me," Fabian groaned, "the school was in chaos and anarchy after that for months. You couldn't trust anyone, not that you can now either."

"So who is she dating?" Ellen, intrigued, grills Damian for answers.

"Ignoring the fact that you're acting like all the other nosy people," Damian began, "she's dating Krum. Selena Scamander is friends with the girl, and she told me that Potter has a thing for someone else. The whole thing is being propagated by some trashy tabloid reporter named Rita Skeeter. You know, I never would have thought teenage romance was something half of Wizarding Britain saw as worth harassing a child over."

"Wait a minute," Adin freezes, "you're telling me that adults are harassing a teenage witch because some reporter decided to write about her love life due to her being close with famous individuals? Has Hogwarts done anything to stop it?"

"Nope," Damian answered hesitantly. He knew this was a sensitive matter for Adin. Adin's older sister, Dinah, had modeled for a non-magical clothing company when she was in her sixth year. Some reporters had found out, and had used her as an example of being "converted by the non-magicès". Traditional witches, some of the very few left in France, had not held back, pestering her with cursed letters and hate mail. The school jumped into action, harshly replying to each sender, informing them that they must stop harassing a minor or face legal consequences. Damian had never seen Madam Maxime more furious when she informed the school that anyone who dares to engage in such behavior would be fiercely punished. Still, the incident left scars on Dinah, and she still hadn't gotten over it.

"Assholes," Adin spat, anger rising, "British witches and wizards suck."

"Poor girl," Peter sympathized, "must be rough having a very traditional, very stubborn community out for your head."

"And James' kid is a celebrity cherished for saving the world," Remus reminded them, "the people must be rioting. I can imagine how that poor girl feels."

"I agree with the kid," Sirius and James declare simultaneously, "assholes."

"Glad to hear that you all agree that that's wrong," Euphemia smiled softly at her son and his friend's.

"Other than the drama," Ellen quickly switched the subject, "anything else interesting going on?"

"Layla got a boyfriend," Damian pouted, "she hasn't spent nearly as much time with me since."

"This I want to hear," Ellen's interest could be felt through the screen. Damian grinned. He'd missed this.

April 9th, 1995.

Layla glanced around the library. Ever since the whole Granger-Potter-Krum drama erupted, the library had been much louder. People were always peeking in, trying to see if they could spot any of the three celebrities.

"What are you thinking about so hard?" Cesare poked her cheek, "you look like you're miles away."

"Nothing in particular," Layla turned to Rolf, "Rolf, do you know where I could learn more about my Maman's Hogwarts days?"

"Nothing happened during them," Larissa frowned, "I just studied, wrote essays, took exams, and studied some more. Genuinely nothing happened, what could she possibly want to know?"

"Not really," Rolf thought for a moment, "but seeing as Larissa is really into reading, maybe Madam Pince, the librarian, would know something. But I don't recommend poking around. The Greengrasses and their vassals are definitely interested in you and Damian. I think the man we met in the store missed Victor, so they've only been talking about you and Damian in the common room. I don't thing you spreading your name around is a good idea; it could be dangerous"

"Rolf's surprisingly right," Cesare agreed with his roommate, "the Greengrass family is neutral on the surface, at least since the fall of the dark lord. Nonetheless, as someone whose family has deep ties with the dark lord's faction, I can tell you that they are nowhere near neutral."

"I know that much," Layla says, "Maman told me herself that her father supported the death eaters and her oldest brother got the mark. Maman isn't sure of exactly what happened after she left, but it's likely that her first younger brother got the mark. Maman's oldest brother was even responsible for the forces that tried killing her; of course I know that he's dangerous."

"You don't get it," Cesare's eyes darkened as he spoke, his mind going to another place. "Let me paint the picture. Stefan Greengrass, the current patriarch of the family, has tried getting my father to betroth me to his oldest daughter. My father refused, mainly because I threatened to inform the ministry and burn the house down if he did. Aside from the arson threat, the only real reason he isn't signing me away is because, strictly speaking, betrothal contracts are illegal. Since they magically bind the two together, it's illegal to sign one on the behalf of another; the punishment is incredibly strict for minors. Despite this, Stefan has tried to get me to sign, using shady, illegal, and underhanded tactics on multiple occasions. If you're not careful, he can and will get to you. Those damned pureblood families have money and influence; in direct confrontation, it's easy to deal with them. It's when they get crafty you have to worry."

"Really Stefan?" Guenevive asked her cousin sarcastically, "you're going to stoop that low?"

"Mind your own business," Stefan barked, not wanting to be called out for his mistakes.

Antiope sighed. Her beloved husband would be ashamed to see what became of his sister and her family.

"Fine, I won't go looking," Layla sighed. She would keep her word; they were only looking out for her.

"Thank you," Cesare smiled, "I understand it's frustrating, especially as you're not used to a life where these kinds of things matter. Honestly, this whole society disgusts me."

"Tell me about it," Rolf twirls a quill in his fingers, "I hate being in Slytherin. You can't breathe freely for a minute in that snake's den. Every word and action is calculated and measured. You can't do anything against the so-called purebloods or you'll be miserable, no offense Cesare."

"None taken," Cesare assures Rolf, his face suddenly turning serious, "I agree with you. Unfortunately, as we all know, things are going to change.  Father's been talking to more and more of his old acquaintances, the world cup was attacked, and now, the pillar that ended the last war was put into an international tournament by a random conspirator. Something's amiss, and we'll all be suffering the consequences soon. Mark my words."

"The war is going to start again," Alastor Moody predicted. He'd noticed the signs since the meeting to get Potter out of the cup. The "him" there was too out of character. Something was amiss and he knew it. 

Chapter Text

May 31st, 1995.

"Mail's here," Leopold Arquette called as he walked into his home after a long day at work.

"Can you please leave it on the counter?" Larissa responded from her workroom, "I just need to clean up the acid."

"Why acid?" Leopold asked as he placed the groceries in the correct spots, "I thought we agreed not to work with weapons."

"I'm trying to improve the cauldron cleaning potions we have," Larissa said laughingly, "I'm glad you have so much faith in me."

"Sorry for the judgment," Leopold apologized, "what do you want for dinner?"

"Let's have fish," Larissa steps into the kitchen, "you answer the mail while I cook."

"Yes Ma'am," Leopold saluted his wife. Following her instructions, he began to sort through the mail. He put all the fan notes in one pile; Larissa liked to put them in albums. Any letters that were business oriented were glanced over; anything of interest was placed in a red folder. Personal letters, from family and friends, were placed in a pile, unopened and unread.

"No way," Leopold gasped as he read the name on one of the letters, "love, I think you need to read this." 

Larissa took the envelope out of her husband's hand and opened it. Slowly, the expressions on her face changed. The longer she read, the more distraught she became. 

"Whatever that letter was, it likely wasn't good," Lillian frowned at the mixed emotions on Larissa's face, "I hope that nothing else troubles them. They've finally achieved peace and security."

"Leanne," Larissa uttered, jade green eyes filling with tears, "she wrote to me. After all these years, she's reached out. She wants to catch up and introduce me to her new family. She also said she has things she must tell me for the safety of my family."

"How do you feel about that?" Leopold asked, soft eyes turning to his beloved wife, "she's ignored you for years. It's okay to feel disdain and not want to go. I'm happy to go give her a piece of my mind if it will make you happy."

"I want to go see her," Larissa said resolutely, a firm decision made, "she's still my sister. She was, what, fourteen or thirteen when I was disowned and chased around the country. Even if she wanted to, there was absolutely nothing that she could have done to help me anyhow. I want to hear what she has to say. Would you come with me Leo?"

"Of course," Leopold declared boldly, "as if I'd ever say no to you for something like this."

June 9th, 1995.

Leanne Yaxley nèe Greengrass sat anxiously in the coffeeshop, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her estranged older sister. Her husband and children were beside her. They had made the trip across the border to meet the family that their mother/wife had long pushed away in fear of her life.

"Seems like you started a family of your own," Antiope smiled gently at her young niece, "isn't that lovely, Leanne?

"I guess," a subdued Leanne Greengrass replied. She hadn't expected to have to face the consequences of her beliefs so soon. She had planned her life meticulously to a tee. Once she married someone who had the same beliefs as her, she would run away from her family and all the death they brought. How had things gotten so messed up?

"Bonjour," Larissa Arquette greeted her younger sister softly, "it's been many years, hasn't it Leanne?"

Larissa could hardly believe her eyes when she had spotted Leanne. The girl was no longer the pubescent girl she had been forced to say, seemingly, forever goodbye to all those years ago. Instead, Leanne was a grown woman, a startlingly beautiful one at that. Leanne's wheat blonde hair was short and curled, her freckles were cleverly hidden with makeup, and her face had greatly matured. The only thing that remained consistent with Larissa's previous depiction of her sister were the eyes. Leanne's cornflower blues hadn't changed over all the years. They were still deceptively charming, yet for the first time, Larissa could see through them.

"It has Rissa," Leanne bit her lip to prevent herself from crying. Her older sister still had the same reassuring presence she had had all those years ago. Theodore squeezed her hand under the table, reminding her that he would support her through this all.

"I'm glad to see you again" Larissa sat down at the table alongside Leopold, "last I remember, you were a tiny girl. Now, you're fully grown with children of your own."

"Indeed," Leanne cradled the small girl in her arms, "they are very precious to me."

"It's so strange to see her like that," Silas clenched his fist. Why were all his sisters leaving him? Can't they see that they were harming their family? Why were they being so selfish? The family purity must be maintained. Why must they fight it?

"I understand completely," Larissa looked towards her young nephew, "hello mister. What's your name?"

"Abner," the young boy answered smilingly, "I'm five years old!"

"That's wonderful," Larissa waved her wand, and five bubble animals came out. After flying around the young boy, they solidified, landing on the table before him. Abner's eyes widened, and he immediately began to examine the toys.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?" Theodore coaxed the small boy on his lap, "come on Arion, say hello to Aunt Larissa."

"Hewo," the two year old waved shyly, before hiding his face in his dad's chest. Arion was very shy. 

"I guess my dreams really did come true," Leanne stared at her future in wonder. Arion was a name she recognized; it was a name she had always dreamed of naming a child. It seemed that, at least in that timeline, she had been able to live out her biggest dreams.

"They're very cute," Leopold commented, and extended his hand to Leanne, "Leopold Arquette. It's a pleasure to meet someone from Larissa's family." Leopold spoked kindly, but he was still on guard. After all, these people were amongst those who treated his wife like dirt on the ground. He wasn't sure of their intentions just yet.

"Leanne Yaxley," Leanne accepted Leopold's hand. Afterwards, she spoke to Theodore, "Darling, introduce yourself to my sister. Don't you dare be discourteous to her. She's been very gracious in meeting us."

"Theodore Yaxley," Theodore offered his hand to his sister-in-law, "I am honored to meet the esteemed Lady of Magic."

"How do you know that nickname?" Larissa burned red in embarrassment, "I thought I finally got people to stop calling me that."

"How adorable," Clarene teased, "the name embarrasses you."

"Shut up," Larissa mumbles, just as red as her future self. Clarene just smiled. 

"Well I guess it failed," Theodore shrugged, "though I won't call you that if it bothers you."

"Thank you," Larissa sighs in relief, "that alias is more trouble than it's worth. Anyways, Leanne, what's really going on? It's been fifteen years. You have something you want to say, don't you?"

"I'm here to apologize, Larissa," Leanne said bluntly. In a situation where trust has already been broken, Leanne felt that stating the cold, hard facts may make her a little more trustworthy. Mixing emotions into the fray will just tie up the truth. There would be time for vulnerability; it just wasn't that time yet.

"Oh," Leopold raised an eyebrow, challenging his sister-in-law, "do go on. What do you have to say in your defense to my wife?"

"Nothing," Leanne answered quickly, "I did something wrong and came to apologize. I said horrible things, things I don't want to repeat, and made my older sister feel hated and disgusting in one of, if not, the roughest points in her life. Sure, I didn't believe anything I said, but I still said it and made my sister feel horrible."

"What do you mean you didn't believe anything you said?" Larissa asked her sister, curiosity peaked.

"You can't tell me you ever believed a word that came out of our parents' mouths," Leanne said scathingly, "all their crap about pure-blood was so easily disprovable. Albus Dumbledore was the antithesis of what they preached. He was a half-blood, yet he was more powerful than all of the purebloods. Even their so-called Dark Lord feared him, and the Dark Lord was supposed to be the ultimate pureblood. Also, it became so incredibly clear when all of you would come home and speak about the muggleborns and half-bloods that had surpassed you in class. I was only eight when I realized Mother and Father were just jealous that they lacked power."

"She felt that way for so long," Andrea couldn't look her daughter in the eye, "Edgar, how is our child like that? We raised them to be good purebloods; how did two of them get so screwed up?"

"I don't know," Edgar shook his head, anger filling his head, "but as soon as we get home, I'm going to crack down on this. We will not have such dishonor come to our House."

"I never noticed," Larissa tried reconciling this information with her memories of her childhood, "but then again, we weren't very close. You were born when I was ten, and a year later, I was off to Hogwarts for seven years. Then the whole disownment thing happened, and I never saw you after that. I did send a wedding gift, though."

"I know," Leanne smiled, "no one else would have known that I liked camellia flowers. The display was beautiful by the way. Of all the gifts we received, it's amongst my most cherished."

"You're welcome," Larissa then voiced another question she had, "no offense, but what's the deal with your husband? How did you get the son of Corban Yaxley, one of the fiercest death eaters, to turn blood-traitor?"

"Logic and love," Theodore and Leanne answered in sync, smiling gently at each other. 

"Mommy," Abner interrupted before they could elaborate, "where's my hot cocoa?"

"Such a cute boy," Lillian coos at the little Yaxley boy. Abner had amethyst eyes, wheat blonde hair, and tiny freckles. He looked a lot like Theodore, though aspects of his mother were evident in his appearance. His younger brother, Arion, was very similar in looks. The only difference in their appearance was that Arion lacked freckles.

"Give me a moment," Leanne stands and extends her hand to her son, "come Abner, let's go find out." Turning to her sister, Leanne says, "would you mind waiting? He's not going to take no for an answer."

"No problem," Larissa waves her sister and nephew off, before turning to her brother-in-law, "all the better actually. Tell me Yaxley, what's the truth here?"

"Leanne is the epitome of a Slytherin," Theodore said in awe, clearly smitten with his wife, "back in our school days, she made it very clear that she would only marry the purest of the pure. She was studious, beautiful, a believer, and naive. It was exactly what our fathers had told us to look for in a bride. Little did we know that that was her pulling us along by the strings. She had crafted that image in order to be able to move around freely, so that people would trust her judgment. She was actually the one who suggested Silas and Gloria's partners to Old Man Edgar back in the day. She wanted him to think that she was just really good at picking the best matches, so when it came to her, he'd allow her to pick who she wanted."

"And you were what she wanted?" Larissa pressed, trying to understand more about her sister.

"Not really," Theodore tried to explain his wife's thought process to her sister, "I just fit the mold of what she was looking for. She wanted someone who wasn't the heir; that way there would be less pressure on him to follow the pureblood agenda and less likely to be a fanatic. She wanted someone logical and who played by the books; they'd be more likely to be convinced that there was more to life than the purity of blood. She also wanted someone who would stay under the radar; she wasn't ready to come out yet as a blood traitor. I checked all the boxes. She asked me out, I said yes, and slowly but surely, I came to see the world as she did: power, talent, and might before blood. Allow those who learn and discover to prosper over those who don't. Never remain stagnant and move forward."

Stefan was shocked to hear that his youngest sister had truly been planning to betray them. For years, she had wanted to leave and find a life somewhere else. Not that she'd be able to. He was the head of the division for killing off blood traitors. He knew how to threaten purebloods to stay in line; he'd do the same for Leanne. It was for her own good.

Theodore continued to praise the brilliance of his wife. "She had a few business strategies drawn up for us to use. I had already graduated by the time the Dark Lord had perished, so thankfully, my father had no desire to start with anything criminal in nature. I got funding from him and started saving to support our endeavors. We couldn't leave until we had enough money to support ourselves. That's one of the reasons we haven't reached out until now; we had to be careful when there were others who provided our funding."

"Everyone else in the world supports themselves," Leopold remarked, "why couldn't you just support yourself on a normal person's salary?"

"The life of a blood-traitor is dangerous," Theodore shrugged, "we have to pay a lot of money to get our home protected, we're constantly harassed by others and have to pay for the property damage, and our businesses did take a hit when we came out. We had to work smart. Leanne had it planned out for years; she truly is a sly, ambitious, and resourceful Slytherin."

"Aww," Leanne pecked her husband on the cheek when she returned, "you're flattering me too much. Remember, we have another reason we needed to speak to my sister."

"What reason would that be?" Larissa cut to the chase.

"Stefan knows about your children," Leanne responded quickly, "his plan is basically to suppress any information about their blood from the other purebloods. He still doesn't want to acknowledge them as Greengrasses, and he still wants you to be forgotten by the social circles he runs in. However, he's met them and has his daughter, Daphne, watching them. If he sees a need for it, he may try to use them."

"Good of her to tell her sister," Molly told Arthur, "I would hope that my brothers would tell me if someone was targeting my children."

 "Thank Merlin no one is," Gideon grinned at his sister, "but if someone did, we'd let you know."

"After taking care of them of course," Fabian smiled darkly, "the ministry always welcomes arrests of those who cause harm."

"I knew this would come eventually," Larissa bit her lip, turning to Leopold, "do you think it's time?"

"I think it may," Leopold agreed with her, "just remember, though, it's not your only option. I'd happily give them my last name in a heartbeat."

"I think it's what they would want though," Larissa shakes her head mournfully, "Perenelle always did speak of changing their names back then. It may be for the best."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Leanne's eyes widened, as did Theodore's.

"Depends on what you're thinking," Larissa replies cheekily, "but yes. I fully intend to change my children's surname to Flamel. They are the inheritors of the estate; the name rightfully belongs to them."

Chapter Text

June 23rd, 1995.

"Tomorrow’s the day," Victor remarks to Ray Silver as they complete that day's lessons, "the third task. Who do you think is going to win?"

"Definitely not Beauxbatons," Ray answered disappointedly, "after that, I'd guess Hogwarts, mainly because they have two contestants. Potter may have helped Fleur and Krum, but Hogwarts is his school; he's likely more determined to make them win."

"I agree," Victor shook his head, "I hope Fleur isn't too down about it. I'm certain she too is aware of this."

"I don't think anyone would dare to speak against her anyhow," Ray added, "your cousin Estelle is mightily protective over her. No one in our school wants to clash wands with her."

"Stelle's awesome," Victor nodded in agreement, "no doubt about that."

"Excuse me," Hermione Granger interrupted their conversation, Harry Potter and a red haired boy beside her, "may we have a word with you?"

"What on Earth could they want from our nephew?" Guenevive groaned. Her cousin's children may really be her first cousins once removed, but to her, they were her nephews and niece. It was a lot simpler that way.

"I don't know," Serena frowned, "but hopefully, it's nothing bad."

Victor and Ray locked eyes. Ray's slight head tilt told Victor that she was asking if he was cool with it. Victor nodded his head slightly, gesturing to her that he didn’t mind.

“You may,” Victor answered slowly, trying to feel out the intentions of the trio, “but please, make it quick.”

The trio looked hesitant to speak, glancing nervously at Ray. Victor frowned; what did they have to say to him that made them this paranoid?

“You are the son of Madame Arquette, aren’t you?” Harry blurted out, unable to hold back.

“What is that to you?” Victor narrowed his stormy sea-green eyes, unable to discern what Potter’s intentions were.

“He looks so much like Fleamont and his boy,” Lucinda Malfoy commented to her husband, “it’s rather startling, isn’t it dear?” 

“Indeed,” Abraxas frowned, “it’s not a good sign for there to be a strong Potter presence in the future. They have already shamed the name of a pureblood enough already. The current heir is going to marry a mudblood. It will only get worse for us in the future.”

“Nothing,” Harry quickly reassured Victor, “I just wanted to send her my thanks for getting me out of the tournament and clearing my name. I don’t want to even think of all the trouble and danger I would have been in otherwise.”

“I will pass on your regards,” Victor’s harsh guards softened slightly. Potter wasn’t too bad.

“Ask him about that rude kid,” the redhead nudged Potter, who looked as if he wished for the earth to swallow him whole, “you know, the one who is friends with Ginny’s friend. They have the same last name.”

“I assume you’re speaking of my sister Layla,” Victor sighs, having heard what the redhead had “whispered”. He knew that Layla lacked tact at times, but he had hoped she’d grown up.

“Huh?” the redhead seemed confused, “the kid was a boy named Damian. I don’t know who this Layla you’re talking about is.”

“Damian?” Ray and Victor shouted, “that can’t be right.”

“Their faces,” Lillian laughed, “did Damian’s ability to be rude really shock them that much?”

After the initial shock wore off, Victor realized that there was actually a very good chance that Damian had been rude to Potter. Damian was vicious when it came to family; he was still holding the Flamels’ deaths against Potter. Of all the members of their family, it was Damian who held the worst grudges. 

“I’m sorry on his behalf,” Victor apologized to the bespectacled boy, “he’s normally not like that. However, given who you are, I’m not surprised he’s antagonistic towards you.”

“So you’re a stuck up pureblood like Malfoy,” the redhead sneered, completely misjudging the situation, “I thought you wouldn’t be like that, seeing as your mom helped Harry. I guess I should have known that all Greengrasses are the same.”

Victor’s stormy sea-green eyes intensified and he shot a nasty glare at the redhead. 

“Listen here,” he said sharply, “don’t you dare lump my siblings and I in with those assholes. Damian has a perfectly valid reason for not being too pleased with Potter. He shouldn’t be rude, that is true, but don’t exalt yourselves by thinking that the only reason someone would have to dislike Potter is because they’re an entitled pureblood. Maybe do a little bit of research into my mother, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll figure out why we’re so upset at Potter.”

“I’m so conflicted,” Lily whispered to Marlene, “I understand how the triplets feel about all of this, after all, we’ve watched it all happen, but Harry is still my son. He truly didn’t do anything, other than to protect the stone. Dumbledore did say it would have been fine, and Harry’s presence is what caused problems, but how was he supposed to know that?”

“It’s alright Lils,” Marlene comforted her friend, “it is a complicated topic. Damian has the right to be upset at Harry: his grandparents died because of Harry's recklessness. Harry, however, also has the right to be upset with Damian: he’s being rude with no explanation. There’s no black and white answers in this world. There’s only many shades of gray.

“You’re right,” Lily sighed, “also, this is never going to happen in our timeline, so there’s no need for me to be so upset.”

“Could you just tell me what’s bothering him?” Harry asked, not really the type to want to put in the effort, “I can’t apologize or sort it out if I don’t know what happened.”

“I think I’ll go,” Ray decided wisely, not wanting to get involved in the inevitable blow up that was going to happen, “we’ll have to talk later Victor.”

“I guess so, Ray,” Victor was barely hanging on to the last of his patience, “I’ll catch you later.”

Victor’s eyes were blazing, anger filling his entire being. He knew he wasn’t being fair to the trio; he knew that they had just been stupid children. He had tried being cordial; he had tried to ignore and forgive them. They were really making it hard to keep cordial though. He could feel his buried away fury unleashing itself.

“He looks so familiar,” Regulus couldn’t help but notice, “what is it? Who is he reminding me of?” 

“You really want to know what you did?” Victor asked, holding himself back from shouting.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Potter retorted sarcastically.

“Stop right now Victor,” Damian himself rushes over, having been informed of what was happening by Ray, “this isn’t something you can just drop on someone.”

“Damian?” Victor frowned, not having expected his older brother to get involved, “I’m not dropping anything on anyone. I’m sticking up for you. They’ve decided that you’re an entitled, pureblood jerk because you were rude to Potter.”

“I was being an entitle jerk though,” Damian sighed, before turning to Harry himself, “I’m sorry for my previous rudeness Mr. Potter.”

“He’s apologizing?” James said confusedly, “I thought he still hates Harry?”

“You really forgave that?” Victor gaped, “I thought you were super pissed about what happened to Grandpa.”

“What does their grandfather have to do with anything?” the redhead whispered to Hermione Granger, who was deep in thought.

“Oh, I’m still royally pissed,” Damian replied with a smile, “but I’ve decided that it still doesn’t give me the right to be rude to someone.”

“That makes more sense,” James sighed, “and here I thought that, maybe, they could be friends.”

“Give up Prongs,” Peter advised, “I don’t see them becoming friends anytime soon.”

“Wormtail’s right,” Sirius put a hand on James’ shoulder, “for your own sake, just give it a rest.”

“Okay, okay,” James backed off, “I won’t hope for my child to make friends anymore.”

“Harry,” Hermione Granger suddenly whispered, “can you remind me why Larissa Arquette was called to pull you from the tournament.”

“She was Nicholas Flamel’s-” Harry began to answer, before suddenly coming to a revelation, “oh, that’s why.”

“I still don’t get it,” the redhead shook his head, “what does Nicholas Flamel have to do with anything?”

“Nicholas Flamel was their grandfather, Ron” Harry realized, “and Dumbledore told me that the Philosopher’s Stone was destroyed and that Nicholas Flamel was going to die.”

“You shouldn’t blame Harry for that,” Hermione rebuked them, “if Harry hadn’t intervened, the stone would have been stolen by the dark lord.”

“It seems that you didn’t share the truth with one of these parties,” Slughorn raised an eyebrow, “or they have inflated egos and believe they did more than they did. You clearly told Nicholas, Perenelle, Larissa, and the children that Harry intervening caused everything to go southwards. I doubt you’d lie in the presence of the people who were going to suffer the most from the outcome of the incident, so clearly Potter didn’t do something good, despite these children being under the impression they did. What is going on Albus? What are you planning now?”

“I don’t know Horace,” Dumbledore answered honestly, “I’m not a seer or prophet. I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know anything.”

Horace sighed. His old friend was always planning something. There had to be more to this story.

“That’s not what Albus Dumbledore told us,” Damian dismissed the rebuke, “he twisted the truth if he made you believe that. He very clearly told us that had you three not intervened, especially Potter, the stone would have been completely fine. I doubt he’d lie when he’s trying to convince someone to accept their own deaths because he made a mistake. We blame Dumbeldore the most, but you share in the blame. You decided that it was your duty to get involved with something that wasn’t your business. That nosiness got our grandparents killed; we have yet to forgive that.”

The golden trio was shocked. They never thought that there were consequences to the reckless, foolish actions they had taken in their first year. Now that they were face to face with someone who suffered due to their actions, they were forced to face their guilt. 

“That’s not possible,” the redhead, previously called Ron by Harry Potter, argued hotly, “Harry and I got knocked unconscious protecting the stone from you-know-who. Had Harry not been there, he could have gotten the stone and became immortal.”

“There was a powerful enchantment in place preventing that,” Damian rebutted, “our grandfather and your headmaster created it themselves. Do you really think that it wouldn’t have held? The stone would have stayed put if your friend here hadn’t been there. Instead, its presence was revealed, and it had to be destroyed, killing our grandparents. You expect us to treat you as a god-sent miracle when you caused us grief?”

“I don't want you to treat me that way,” Harry answered guilt-ridden. He never would have thought that he was indirectly responsible for a man and woman’s death. Didn't Dumbledore tell him that the Flamels had said that they were ready to set their affairs in order? Didn’t he say that, to them, death would be the next greatest adventure? “I’m really sorry. I never would have thought that my rescuing the stone would wind up hurting someone else. I really hope that you can forgive us.”

“Hopefully they’ll be able to forgive,” Larissa hoped. She didn’t want her children, even from another timeline, to be tied to grief that they didn’t need. It’s better to forgive, even if it’s just for yourself.

“You have long been forgiven in my book, as well as my mother’s,” Victor shook his head, “I was angry for a while, I really was. But eventually, I realized it was just making me miserable. Holding on to that anger wasn’t doing me any favors. I chose to forgive you because, frankly, I blame Albus Dumbeldore more than anyone. Kids do dumb things. Had you known that going for the stone would get someone killed, I doubt that you would have done it. Damian and Layla will get there eventually.”

“Then why are you mad at us?” Ron asked, completely confused, “if you forgave Harry for the Philosopher's stone, why have you been giving us a death stare for the last ten minutes?”

“I’m angry at you,” Victor answered truthfully, “not Potter. And I already told you why. You decided that the only possible reason for someone to not like you was because of blood purity, not because of other, valid reasons. For your information, Damian, our sister, and I are illegitimate and our mother was disowned from the Greengrass family. You decided to compare us with disgusting people just because you can’t stand the idea that someone has a good reason not to like you. It irks me.”

“Sorry,” Ron apologized bashfully, “that was rude.”

“I’m glad he apologized,” Molly smiled, having recognized the boy as her son.

“He’s best off not making dangerous enemies,” Arthur added, “it’s best for him to clear the air with these two. Clearly they’re going to be powerful individuals. Having them against you would be bad.”

“Arthur has a point,” Oscar Prewett agreed, “I just hope that they can maintain this new peace between them.”

“Then I have no further issue with you,” Victor turned to leave, “Damian, you ought to resolve your issues with them now. It’s not like we’re ever going to have another chance.”

“Good idea,” Damian agreed, “Potter, do you happen to play quidditch?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, perplexed, “what does that have to do?

“Let’s settle this matter on the court,” Damian extended his hand, “if I win, the two of us will ignore each other for the rest of time and I will not try forgiving you. If you win, however, I will try forgiving you, as well as stop being rude.”

“You’re on,” Harry accepted the challenge, “do you have a broom here?”

“I always have a broom,” Damian pulled out a small pouch from his pocket. After opening the pouch and rummaging through it, he retrieved a small broom.

“What are you going to do with a to-” Ron tried to ask. Before he could finish, Damian had tapped it three times, and a fully sized racing broom was in his hands.

“Impressive charmwork,” Flitwick clapped, “I assume that his mother was the one who did that. There’s a reason why people don’t shrink their brooms: it damages the spellwork that makes the broom fly. She must have re-woven the spellwork in a way that avoids that. Absolutely brilliant.”

“To the court,” Daina declared, before looking back at Harry, “what’s wrong?”

“We can’t use the court,” Harry replied, “it’s covered in bushes for the tournament. We’ll have to fly somewhere else.”

“Very well,” Damian nodded, “you lead the way.”

Twenty minutes and three flying matches later, a panting Damian shook hands with Harry again.

“You win,” he grinned, “I will try and put the past behind us. You’re a good guy, Harry. Sorry for treating you badly before.”

“You’re an okay guy yourself,” Harry returned the grin, “and I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Grandpa wouldn’t want me to sit and blame you,” Damian’s eyes turned misty when he thought of Nicholas, “I think it’s time to move on. I enjoyed our match.”

“I did too,” Harry agreed, and the two began discussing quidditch.

“I’m glad it’s all over,” James sighed in relief, before turning to his friends, “hah, I told you that they could be friends.”

”You didn’t say that,” Remus pointed out, “all you said was that you wished that why could be.”

“Zip it Moony,” James dismissed Remus’ words, “just let me have my win.

June 24th, 1995.

“Are you ready?” Cedric Diggory asked Harry Potter.

“Not really,” Harry responded, “but it’s not like I have much of a choice.”

The beginning of doom had approached.

Chapter Text

As the champions ran into the maze, the audience was made to watch the hedges.

“They literally forgot about the audience when they planned these events,” Damian shook his head, “how long do you think this one is going to take?”

“No idea,” Rolf groans. After a few moments of hesitation, Rolf spoke again.  “Damian, I have a question for you?”

“Hit me with it,” Damian replies, giving Rolf a small smile.

“Why did you ask Potter to play quidditch with you in order to decide if you were going to forgive him?” Rolf asked. “I doubt you were cocky enough to think that you would obviously win; you knew there was a chance that you would lose. So the game wasn’t “rigged”. You were genuinely depending on the outcome of a quidditch match to make the difficult decision of forgiveness. Why?” 

“That’s actually a very good question,” Lily agreed with Rolf’s line of thinking, “I’m glad the two of them worked it out, but why a quidditch match?”

“I think I have an idea,” James suggested, “I think it has something to do with character. You can tell a lot about people based on how they behave in a game.”

“Not bad thinking,” LIly begrudgingly admitted. She had thought him a total airhead, only willing to use his brains for ridiculous pranks and jokes. She would never have expected him to be good at reading people’s intentions. She quickly brushed those thoughts away; he could be wrong. After all, the vision had yet to divulge the reasonings of the boy.

“Have you ever read a fantasy novel?” Damian asked suddenly, confusing Rolf.

“Sure I have,” Rolf responded, “but what does that have to do with anything?”

“In fantasy,” Damian began, “especially medieval fantasy, there are things like gladiator contests, fencing duels, magic competitions, and many other forms of games. In many cases, these games are used to choose knights, son-in-laws, kings, and other positions of sorts. Contests are a great way to gauge someone’s character and abilities. You can learn things such as: do they play by the rules? Are they honorable? How do they handle it when things don’t go their way?” 

Damian paused for a moment to see if Rolf was keeping up. Once he saw that he had, he continued. “I used the same principle with Potter. I wanted to see if he’d accept my challenge, far-fetched as it was. Accepting it would prove that he is someone who genuinely cares about people: he’s willing to go out of his way to try and earn forgiveness. Once he accepted, the next thing I wanted to see was his valor: would he give it all with no cheating? Would he try blocking me, use magic to slow me, or other things. I never said he couldn’t; I wanted to see if he would. He was honorable; he didn’t use underhanded tricks and would have been willing to accept defeat. After seeing and processing it all, I held up my side of the agreement. He proved that he was a genuine person who meant no harm in the matter of the stone; he earned his forgiveness.”

“I knew it,” James grinned, “I knew it was something like that.”

Lily stared at James. Was he truly this excited about having predicted something? She watched as Sirius high-fived him, Remus sighed fondly, and Peter clapped. James was the one who had brought these people together. The four of them were so different; how did they all get along? Remus was too good for them; he was a smart and responsible student. Sirius and James may have the grades that Remus did, unlike Peter, but they were nowhere near as responsible and mature as him. How did such people not clash?

“What are you staring at?” Marlene asked cheekily, startling Lily, “James?”

“No,” Lily said hastily, a slight blush on her cheeks. She quickly composed herself, before asking, “Don’t you think their friendship is rather strange?”

“Of course it is,” Marlene said, “they’re all strange people. Brilliant as they may be, they are still incredibly strange.”

“The only one in that group I’d classify as brilliant is Remus,” Lily said adamantly, “the others can’t be called that.”

“I beg to disagree,” Marlene shook her head, “James and Sirius are really smart Lily. You know that; you just don’t want to admit it. In fact, I’d wager that they’re smarter than Remus is. They barely study anything, yet they get better grades than most people. Haven’t they beaten your marks before?”

“That was in third year,” Lily protested, “things were easier then. They grew up in the magical world; I needed time to catch up.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Marlene continued to disagree, “but this is a useless argument. You don’t want to believe that people as unserious as them can be smarter than you and the other, studious people in school. It’s alright, but at some point, you’ll have to admit it, Lils.”

Lily stayed silent. Marlene was right; there was no point in arguing this. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Rolf laughed, “you could have just said you were testing his character. You didn’t need to monologue.”

“I like being dramatic though,” Damian pouted, “is there anything wrong with that?”

“No,” Rolf replied, “there’s nothing wrong.”

“I’m back!” Selena announced as she sat between the two boys, “did anything interesting happen?”

“No Lena,” Rolf rolled his eyes fondly, “the task just started and you were gone for less than ten minutes. Nothing happened.”

“She looks so much like Tina,” Euphemia remarked to her husband, “albeit, with darker skin.”

“I agree,” Fleamont glances at the boy in the vision, “though I’d say Rolf looks more like his mother. From the very little we saw of Miss Esmerelda, I can confidently say that Rolf takes after her.”

Nearly an hour later, the first signs of action showed. Red sparks flew above the maze, signaling that one of the champions was calling for help. Teachers rushed into the maze, looking to find the source of the sparks.

“I’m so nervous.” Stelle Borier-Delancy chewed on her nails. Her cousin was in there; who knows what happened to her?

“Calm down,” Nancy Porter, her best friend, reassured her, “I’m certain she’s alright. Felur’s a strong girl.”

“Oui,” Robert Garnier, another friend, agreed, “Fleur is the best of our year. She can handle herself well.”

Suddenly, teachers came out of the maze, a limp Fleur floating behind them on a stretcher.

“Fleur!” Stelle raced down the stands, ignoring all the people shouting at her to stand back. She rushed towards her mother’s cousins, Perseus and Apolline Delacour, who were talking to the people with Fleur.

“Is that Pers?” Clarene asked, shocked, “and he married Apolline of all people? How did he manage to marry her? He’s a little wimp; she’s a gorgeous, confident half-veela!”

“Perseus has his merits,” Lyra smirked. She had seen that match coming. After all, she had set them up.

“You had something to do with this,” Daniel said accusingly, “didn’t you, Lie-ra?”

“Stop calling me that!” Lyra shouted, “I’m not a liar.”

“Yes you are,” Daniel continued taunting, “you lie, omit truths, and give half-baked answers. Admit sis, you’re a liar and a very good one at that.”

“He’s not wrong,” Serena interceded, “now, is this argument of any purpose at all or situationally appropriate? We are currently seeing our cousin, his future wife, and our future niece freaking out at the sight of said cousin’s future daughter being unconscious. Now is not at all the time for your bickering.”

“Sorry,” the two apologized in unison, shutting their mouths.

“Is she alright, Perseus?” Stelle asked nervously.

“She’s only been stunned, Estelle,” Perseus answered, a tone of relief in his voice, “at least that’s what these fine folk have told me.”

“Thank St. Martha’s,” Stelle sighed in relief, “I freaked out so badly.”

“They don’t know who stunned her,” Apolline returned to her husband, having been further conversing with the teachers, “but that’s not their main concern. They found Fleur on their way to tracking the sparks in the sky. Viktor Krum was unconscious and stunned as well.”

Stelle froze for a moment, before making a startling statement. “I think that this whole tournament was a distraction for something bigger. First Potter was put in. Now, there’s two knocked out contestants with only Potter and Diggory left. Potter saved Gabrielle when he didn’t have to last time. Fleur had told him to return to the surface with her, but out of concern for Gabrielle, he went ahead. I don’t think they were the ones to knock Fleur and Krum out. Someone’s been manipulating things behind the scenes. Someone needs to go in that maze and find Potter and Diggory before something harms them as well.”

“She’s right,” Moody growls as he realizes what was happening, “I’ve been suspecting this for a while. I’m the one responsible for this. Well, someone acting as me that is.”

“What do you mean, Alastor?” Minerva asks, her face pale with worry.

“I’ve long suspected that the me that the visions had been showing wasn’t really me,” Moody explained, “I wasn’t behaving in the way I normally do. I noticed it especially when Ms. Greengrass was re-writing the contract; the Alastor Moody in the visions isn’t me. I think he’s a death eater, polyjuiced as me, trying to kill Mr. Potter.”

“It makes sense,” Dumbeldore stroked his beard, “as my old friend, I likely would have trusted “you” to protect the goblet, guard the students, and other sorts of things. You’d have every opportunity to put his name in. It all makes sense.”

“Damn it,” Lily cursed, not caring about the looks she was getting, “why my son? Why is everything harming my son?”

“Our son,” James corrected, a strange, intense fire in his eyes that Lily would have never expected from him, “that is my child as well. The very last Potter. Who the hell dares to do that?”

“If I find that person,” Sirius cracks his knuckles and tilts his head, “he’s done for. How dare he harm my godson?”

“Perhaps we should continue watching,” Remus suggested gently, not wanting anyone to snap at him, “cursing won’t get us anywhere. We have to know if Harry’s alright.”

“Fine,” the three angered teenagers settled down. Marlene, Mary, and Peter give Remus a thankful look. They did not want to have to interfere and deal with their respective, angry friends.

“It’s the Dark Lord rising, isn't it?” Regulus whispered to his father, “he’s too far gone to have truly died that night. He must be behind this; we both know he’s powerful enough for that.”

“I believe so as well,” Orion agreed quietly, not wanting to attract any attention, “you are right, he’s too far gone into dark magic. Between you and me, I think he has taken it a little too far. However, there will never be another chance for us to seize our right to rule over the muggles and half-bloods. We must take this chance now, no matter how psychotic our master is.”

“I can feel it,” Bellatrix cackled madly, “Rodo, I feel it in my bones. It’s our lord; he’s going to come back.”

“There is no other answer,” Rodolphus agreed, “our lord is too powerful for a baby to have defeated him. He must have been consolidating his strength all the years that he was gone in the future. We will serve him again with pride Bella.”

“No!” Flora’s head was spinning, too much noise over-stimulating her, “it’s too loud and angry.”

“Let’s go,” Layla grabbed her friend by the hand, “Yusuf, Cesare, Helena, I’m going to take Flora somewhere far away from here, alright?”

“No problem,” Yusuf kissed his sister’s forehead, “be well, Flower Girl.”

The two begin heading back towards the castle, with Layla slowly soothing Flora’s mind with magic. Layla herself was a legilimens, albeit not a natural. She had very little talent in the field, her brothers being much, much better. Damian was especially talented at it, possessing a terrifying ease for messing with memories and fears . However, despite her rudimentary skills at manipulating the mind and using mind magics, she was still a very good witch. Under her mother’s guidance, she had created a mind-soothing spell, combining and weaving some pain-nullifying, healing, and sleeping spells together. She had wanted to use it for her migraines; this was just as important a cause.

“What spell even is this?” Flora asked as they walked, her head becoming a little quieter the further they got from the court.

“One of my own,” Layla responded honestly, “it can only be practiced non-verbally and works best wandlessly. I can only cast wandlessly for so long though, so this is how much soothing you’re going to get. I’ll do my best to work and improve it until you can cast it yourself.”

 “Impressive,” Lucinda Malfoy reluctantly praised. Being a med-witch herself, she knew how complicated healing spells, especially for the mind, were. To be able to create one was an astonishing feat for a child her age. It was especially impressive, seeing as it could only be cast non-verbally.

A half an hour after Felur Delacour and Viktor Krum were taken out of the maze, a flash appeared in the middle of the stadium. Harry Potter landed on the ground, Cedric Diggory under him. He was bleeding on his face and arms, and his face was frozen in horror. The cup was in his hands, but he didn’t seem to acknowledge it.

Chaos unfolded. Harry refused to let go of Cedric, while Cedric’s father rushed forward to see his child. People were shouting that Cedric was dead, while others were convinced he was only stunned.

“He’s back!” Harry shouted, “Voldemort’s back! He murder Cedric! He’s back!”

The worst had come to pass.

Chapter Text

“I knew it!” Bellatrix cackled madly, “the Dark Lord is too powerful to be defeated.”

Rodolphus and Rabastan shared Bellatrix’s excitement, maniacal glee displayed on their faces.

“Damn it,” Fleamont cursed, horrified that the man his son (and daughter-in-law) died trying to stop was back. 

“He’s stooped low,” Dumbledore sighed sadly, “Tom has reached for magics that destroy the balance.”

“You better get those kids out of there,” Antiope warned Larissa anxiously, before turning to Leanne, “and you also need to leave in the future. Being a blood traitor with that psychopath around is incredibly dangerous.”

“Hopefully Beauxbatons will immediately take them home,” Larissa said worriedly. 

“What’s going on?” Damian asked as they were shepherded back to the carriages. 

“Questions later, Damian,” Madam Ballard responded strictly, clearly stressed out, “we need to evacuate you all before we can figure things out.”

The Beauxbatons students, despite the chaos, manage to make it back to their carriages, where they all anxiously await the headmistress’ explanation. Damian, noticing Victor in the crowd of students, quickly joins him.

“Where’s Layla?” Damian asks his younger brother, desperately hoping that Victor would know.

“I don’t know,” Victor replied, worry filling his heart. 

“Didn’t she go off to help Leta’s kid?” James voiced quietly, still worried for the safety of his own future child.

“She did,” Euphemia confirmed, “I hope that they can find her and nothing happens.”

“Madam Ballard!” Damian calls out, attracting the teacher’s attention, “Layla is missing.”

“What?” Madam Ballard froze. She thought they had evacuated all the students; how had one student been missed. 

Madam Ballard steeled her nerves, and turned to the room. “Is anyone else missing?” She asked, turning to the rest of the students.

“Marcus Dolayer,” one of the seventh years, Amity Ferson, said quietly, “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I’m going to go find them.” Madam Ballard turned to address the students, “no one can leave, is that understood?”

“Of course Madam,” the students responded. With that, the charms teacher rushed out of the carriage to go and find the missing students.

“I wonder where Layla went,” Lily whispered to Marlene.

“Me too,” Marlene whispered back, “but I’m sure she’s fine wherever she is. She’s a powerful witch after all.”

“She’ll be alright,” Damian tried assuring his younger brother, “she’s our little sister; she’s too tough to get hurt.”

“She’d bite them before they could harm her,” Victor laughed wetly, barely concealing his worry. 

“Likely in her animagus form,” Damian added and the two wince, “I would not want to be bitten by a leopard.”

“Wherever she is,” Victor said, much more at ease, “I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

“What’s happening?” Layla asked the Hogwarts matron, “why is there such a commotion?”

“So she took Flora to the matron,” Euphemia sighed in relief, “thank Merlin both of them are alright.”

“Give me a moment,” Madam Pomphrey hurriedly replied, rushing around the office in a state of slight panic, “dreamless sleep, dreamless sleep, where is it?”

“I can brew one for you if needed,” Layla offered the frantic woman, “or sooth the mind of whomever requires the potion.”

“That’s kind of you to offer,” the flustered matron replied somewhat distractedly, “but I already had it prepared. I just need to find it.” After a few minutes of looking, the potion was located.

“Please stay put,” Madam Pomphrey asked the two of them, “this is a rather delicate situation.” With that, she turned and closed the curtains, heading to another patient’s bedside. 

“Feeling any better?” Layla asked Flora gently, “that was a pretty big flare up you had.”

“Yes,” Flora answered softly, face still pale, “but you dealt with it nicely. My head is quieter now.”

“The curse of a legilimens,” Dumbledore sighed, “it was the same with her great-aunt as well. The voices haunt you and give you no rest.”

“Such a shame,” Horace agreed, “such a unique and useful talent, yet it brings so much pain to the user.”

“The only thing that can help her is time,” Filius shook his head sorrowfully, “only time can teach her to control the voices.”

“You really need to try and control your power,” Layla sighed, sitting at Flora’s bedside, “I won’t be here forever to fix it.”

“I know,” Flora said, slow tears rolling down her cheeks, “but Layla, it’s so hard. I try to get control, I try to shut them out, but the voices are too powerful. How can I shut out hundreds of voices all at once, especially when they’re all gathered in one place?” 

“Have your parents been able to do anything?” Layla wonders, “they do know, right?”

“Of course they do,” Flora says, slightly defensively, “Mom and Dad taught me to meditate when I was younger and tried teaching me occlumency. There are ways people like me deal with it; I’m just not very good at them. Great-Aunt Queenie was legendary for her ability to handle her legilimency, but I’m simply not skilled enough.”  

“I’m going to help you,” Layla declared, gripping Flora’s hands in her own, “I’m going to work really hard and find a way to help you. Occlumency is hard; there has to be a better way. I’m going to find it for you Flora.”

Flora didn’t say anything. She knew that it would be useless to try and convince her otherwise.

“That’s going to be near impossible,” Larissa mulled it over, “though I can think of one or two ways to go about it. It would take a lot of research and a lot of time though. I wonder if a mere child could really pull it off.”

“She’ll probably ask you for help,” Clarene points out, “she has a strong foundation to work off of, her mind-soothing spell that is, so I’m certain that the two of you could really do it.”

“Maybe,” Larissa shrugged, “the me of now certainly couldn’t do it. I can’t speak for that version.”

“I guess we’ll have to see,” Clarene smiled. She hoped that something could be done to help the poor child; she really did seem to be in a doomed situation.

“Where were you?” Madam Ballard nearly shouted when Layla entered the carriage later, “you didn’t evacuate with the rest of us.”

“I was in the hospital wing,” Layla answered confusedly, “why did you have to evacuate?”

“The hospital wing?” Madam Ballard questioned, her expression softer, “Did you get hurt?”

“A friend of mine did,” Layla clarified, “I took her to the hospital wing and stayed with her until she was settled.”

“Sorry for nearly losing my temper,” the frazzled professor apologized, “it’s been very stressful. The British ministry has denied it but Albus Dumbledore confirmed it; the Dark Lord has risen once more. Madam Maxime has chosen to believe Dumbledore, at least for now.”

“So the ministry is going to try and deny it,” Moody growled, “can’t they piece things together? Is the minister that incompetent?”

“This is good for us,” Rudolph Lestrange stroked his beard, “the Dark Lord can strike in the dark and the ministry will not believe it’s him.”

“I suspect that the Dark Lord did not intend for Potter to make it out alive,” Arcturus Black theorized with his wife, “how could a mere boy escape his clutches?”

“There is something strange in the relationship between the two,” Melania mused, “the boy managed to “kill” the Dark Lord and, now, was a witness to his resurrection. What is so important about the boy that the Dark Lord staged this whole conspiracy with the tournament?”

“You make a good point, Mother,” Orion agrees, “is there, perhaps, something worth looking into about the Potter family bloodline? Do they perhaps have some sort of family gift that the Dark Lord is trying to take?”

“I will look into it, Father,” Regulus swore, “I’m very good at research, especially when it comes to old, historical records.”

“I entrust this to you then,” Orion nodded to his son, “do not disappoint.”

“No,” Layla’s face turned white, “where are my brothers? Have they told our mother yet? It’s not safe for us to be in this country if he is truly back.”

“I’m certain that they’ve told her,” Madam Ballard seemed confused at Layla’s panic, “you don’t need to fear. We will protect you.”

“You don’t understand!” Layla yells, “do you know how we even ended up in France?”

“No,” Madam Ballard answered, “what does that have to do with anything?”

“My mother was on the run from them!” Layla shouts, clearly frustrated that her teacher couldn’t process the amount of danger that she and her brothers were in. “She had children out of wedlock; she was disowned; she was hunted down to be killed for months. My brothers and I are the children she was disowned for having, and her asshole of an older brother is already stalking us. If the death eaters are truly back, the Greengrasses have the backing and people to try and get rid of us. We need to leave now.”

“I understand now,” Madam Ballard quickly grasped what Layla was saying and agreed. The triplets weren’t safe in Great Britain; they had to leave.

“I highly doubt that dealing with the triplets is going to be on the top of the death eater’s bucket list,” Gideon remarks, “especially with you-know-who only just returning. However, they do have good reason to be cautious; death eaters can be unpredictable.”

“What about my children?” Molly worried anxiously, “they’re going to be in the center of it all, especially since Ron seems to be friends with Potter.”

“Let’s just hope they can handle themselves,” Arthur tried comforting his wife, “and that Hogwarts can keep them safe.”

Hours later, at nearly ten at night, Madam Maxime came to speak to the triplets.

“You likely understand what this is about,” Madam Maxime said bluntly, “so I’ll get straight to the point, We’re sending the three of you home in half an hour via a portkey. Please get your things ready and meet me within half an hour.”

“Yes Ma’am,” the three children agreed. They immediately return to their rooms to get their things.

“What’s going on?” Jean asks her best friend, “why are you packing already?”

“I’m leaving,” Layla answers briskly, “I’m not safe in this country. I’m almost certain I’ve told you the story, but if I haven’t, I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Alright,” Jean accepted the answer, “stay safe Layla. You’re my best friend; I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Layla smiled slightly; it was nice of Jean to care.

“I wonder if these visions are going to show the new war,” Marlene wondered aloud. “These kids are in France, far away from the center of things. Are we going to be able to learn how to prevent it?”

“I hope we can learn how to prevent the war,” Mary said nervously, “one war is enough in my opinion.”

Half an hour later, the triplets found themselves in the worried embrace of their mother and step-father.

“We were so worried,” Larissa squeezed them tighter, “I can’t believe that he’s back.”

“He won’t ever harm any of you,” Leopold swore, “we’ll ensure it. That’s our job as your guardians and adults.”

“How is this even possible?” Victor wondered, “how can the dead come back to life? I know that the dead can be animated into inferi, but I highly doubt that anyone would follow an inferious.”

“It can’t be,” Larissa suddenly came to a realization, her face draining of color, “could he have truly stooped that low?”

“It seems that Ms. Greengrass may have come to the same conclusion as myself,” Dumbeldore stroked his beard, “perhaps she can play a part in dealing with it.”

“What are you talking about?” Leopold questioned his wife, unsure what she was thinking.

“He wouldn’t,” Larissa tried convincing herself, “even the foulest of the dark wizards would never even consider it. It’s blasphemy against magic itself.”

“She can’t mean-” Horace Slughorn was horrified. He knew what role he had to play in Tom Riddle’s knowledge of horcruxes; could it truly be that he made one?

“You can’t possibly mean what I think you mean,” Leopold stared at his wife in shock, “you think he created a-”

“Hush,” Larissa silenced her husband, “not in front of the children. They shouldn’t know of such things. We will have to discuss this ourselves. Besides, I have no evidence. He could have just been weakened and in hiding. What truly proved to anyone that he was dead in the first place?”

No matter how Larissa tried to deny it to herself, she knew her hypothesis was likely right: Lord Voldemort had created a horcrux.

Chapter Text

“I think she’s come to the same conclusion that I have,” Dumbeldore whispered to his colleagues, “I wonder what that says for how the future will play out.”

“I don’t know,” Slughorn sighs, “but if I’m right about what she’s thinking, then she’s in a whole heap of danger that she doesn’t even know she’s in.”

Summer came with a heap of stress. The entire magical community was thrown into chaos. Most people weren’t believing in Harry Potter’s claim, backed by Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore was even forced from his position as Supreme Mugwump. The world was changing and not necessarily in a good way.

July 13th, 1995.

“Maman!” Damian called out frantically, “I can’t find my wand. Have you seen it?”

“Check your desk,” Larissa called back, exasperated, “Darling, this is exactly why I made you a holster. Please don’t keep losing your wand.”

“Sorry!” Damian called out, before running out the front door.

“I’m heading out,” Victor says as he puts on his watch, “Layla, do you want to come with?” Victor had grown two inches, now standing at 6’1. Despite filling out a bit more, he was still very lean, especially in comparison to his broad shouldered, 6’5 brother.

“No thank you,” Layla responded, glancing up from her notes, “I’m busy.” Layla had been working all month to perfect a spell to help Flora’s condition. She’d done barely anything else; her brother was getting worried.

“She seems sick,” Lyra pointed out worriedly, “should we be concerned?”

“It seems like stress,” Daniel obeserves, “maybe she’s worried about something?”

“Layls,” Victor knelt before her, “this isn’t healthy. You can’t coop yourself up like this forever. I don’t know what you’re stuck on now, but whatever it is, it isn’t more important than your health. Normally, you’d never turn down the opportunity to go biking with Ray, Lèon, Felicia, and me. What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” Layla insisted, “go. Your friends must be waiting for you.”

Victor hesitated; maybe he was wrong. Maybe Layla would be fine.

“Alright,” Victor decided to leave the matter be. However, he would tell their parents; something clearly wasn’t right.

“How’s our favorite Greengrass doing?” Lèon greeted his friend with a smirk, “Ready for a day full of fun?”

“Not a Greengrass anymore,” Victor grinned back, reminding his friends of his recent surname change. “Regardless, I’m absolutely ready. Lead the way, Léon.”

“Actually,” Felicia spoke up softly, “I’ve planned today’s itinerary. I do hope the four of us will have a pleasant experience.”

“Too bad Damian is sick,” Ray bemoaned, “we should pick up a get well gift on the way.”

“Not a bad idea,” Felicia flicked her wand, adding the idea to her schedule with a muttered spell, “I’ve made the time for it. We best head out now if we wish to maximize our day.”

The four quickly biked off. Still, in the back of his mind, the sickly appearance of Victor’s sister lingered.

“It’s fascinating to have such a view of these children growing up,” Lyra commented, fascinated by the maturing appearances of Victor’s friend group. “It truly is incredible.”

“Perhaps you can now appreciate the old saying,” Antiope smiled gently at her daughter, “time really does fly by.”

“Bonjour!” Damian greeted his uncle, “how’ve the last few days been? One baby alone is rough, but two is most certainly a battle.”

“You don’t say,” Ajax Abello-Delancy said sarcastically. The blond man’s usual elegant and kempt appearance was gone; he looked like a sleep-deprived zombie.

“Cut that sarcasm out, Ajax!” Guenevive’s voice rang through the home, “and take Damian’s things to his room. He’s doing us a huge favor; you ought to be kinder.”

“Ignore the shouting,” Ajax sighed, “she’s been so stressed. As you know, we weren’t exactly aware that we were having twins. Hence, we were completely unprepared, both mentally and physically, for two babies. Let’s just say, it’s been a rough few days.”

“Twins!” Guenevive looked as if she were about to faint, “I’m going to push two of them out of me?”

“Three if we count Dorea,” her younger brother, unhelpfully, added. He instantly regretted it; a spell zapped by his ear, nearly hitting it.

“Count your blessings,” Guenevive smiled, sickly sweet. Daniel got the message nice and clear.

“Uncle Ajax,” Damian put a hand on his shoulder, “with all due respect, I can tell. Get yourself into bed. You’re not going to be much help if you pass out on us.”

“You’re probably right,” Ajax’s shoulder dropped, “I’ll head to bed then. Thanks for offering to help out; it means a lot to your aunt and me. We’re way over our heads, and it’s not fair for Dorea to be in such a stressful environment.”

“You don’t need to worry about Rea,” Damian reassured the overstressed father, “her favorite cousin is here to entertain her while her parents work and take care of the babies.”

“You’re a life-saver,” Ajax clapped his nephew on the back, before heading to his bedroom.

“Hey Rea,” Damian entered his little cousin’s room. The nine year old girl was sitting at her desk, deeply concentrating on her work. Dorea had a lot of hobbies; it was something her many relatives knew very clearly about her. At the moment, she was occupied with carefully sculpting a mug out of clay.

“She’s so cute,” Guenevive gushed over her daughter, “she looks just like me, doesn’t she?”

“I actually think she looks like Abello,” Clarene disagreed with her sister, “she may have your blonde tresses and freckles, but her silver eyes, round face, and tiny nose look like his.”

“I agree,” Lillian stuck her nose in the conversation, “she definitely looks more like him.”

Guenevive scowled; her sisters were such traitors.

“Damian!” Dorea leapt into her older cousin’s arms, thrilled to see him. “Did you see them yet?”

“Not yet,” Damian answered in the negative, “would you like to show me your baby siblings?”

“Come, come,” the nine- year old yanked on his sleeve, “let’s go.”

The two head to another room in the house. Decked in warm reds and oranges, the room seemed as if fall had manifested itself in the small home. Two cribs, each adorned with a beautiful canopy, sat in the room.

“Hi Baby Jasper!” Dorea waved at her little brother. The newborn simply stared at her.

“So this little one must be Amber,” Damian cooed at the little girl in the second crib. The twins, aside from their respective genders, looked nearly identical. Small tufts of blonde hair snuck out of their night caps, and their matching silver eyes peered at their awed relatives curiously. The only difference, however, was that Japer was a lot bigger. Amber had been so small, that the ultrasounds hadn’ picked up her presence in the womb. It was a real miracle that both had come into the world completely healthy.

Guenevive cooed at the screen instinctively. Those were her future babies!

“What beautiful grandchildren,” Antiope whispered softly. “If only you could see this too, my Damian.”

“Papa would have loved them,” Clarene agreed solemnly, “but I’m sure he’s watching over them from above.”

“Who knows,” Antiope shakes her head, “but I truly do hope he is.”

“I’m worried about Layla,” Leopold tentatively brings up the subject with his wife, “it’s not healthy what she’s doing. She barely eats, rarely sleeps, and hasn’t left the house in days. The boys and I have tried offering to go out with her, but she refuses every attempt. Larissa, is she alright?”

“She’s not,” Larissa dropped her head in her hands in anguish, “she refuses to stop working on that stupid spell. I told her at the start of break that it’s simply too advanced for her at the moment, and I’ll help her out when I get the chance. Since then, she’s refused to allow me to help. What am I supposed to do? Save for knocking her out, I can’t convince her to take care of herself!”

“What spell are we talking about?” Leopold asked, morbidly curious as to what his step-daughter was destroying herself over.

“She’s trying to create a spell to help Flora Shacklebolt,” Larissa answered. “Flora’s a natural legilimens who gets overstimulated by her abilities. Layla wants to create a spell to completely block out the noise. Unfortunately, she refuses to acknowledge that that simply isn’t possible to create. I mean, it may technically be magically possible, but it’s not possible in terms of safety. Shutting down the brain like that is too risky; Flora simply needs to learn how to control her ability better. I’ve recommended an expert occlumens to Leta; she said that they were considering him as an option. Layla refuses to believe that it’s impossible, hence, she refuses to stop working.”

“I see,” Leopold digested the information. “Larissa my love, I may have an idea.”

“By all means,” Larissa nearly shouted, “anything is better than nothing. I’ve exhausted all my options.”

“I wonder what he has planned,” Lily whispered to Marlene, “Layla seems stubborn. What could he possibly do that her mother couldn’t?”

“We’ll see,” Marlene shrugged. She had no idea what the man on screen was planning.

“Layla,” Leopold sat down gingerly, “we need to talk.”

“Is it important?” Layla asked, her eyes drooping. Her eye bags were a deep black and blue, her skin was pale and sickly, and Leopold could tell that her magic was clearly exhausted. She looked as if she’d been locked in prison for years.

“Yes,” Leopold beckoned her over, and reluctantly, Layla complied, sitting beside her step-father on the couch.

“You’re killing yourself,” Leopold began bluntly. He knew Layla well, both as a teacher and as a parent. He knew that she preferred it when people were straight-forward with her. She hated when people talked in circles; she, not incorrectly, determined that it only served to frustrate the intended recipient of the words. He may not have been her parent for long, but he had long understood the way his beloved’s only daughter ticked. She was brilliant, wild, and free. However, she had a fatal flaw: she had far too stringent expectations for herself. “You cannot do this and you know it. Working yourself to death isn’t going to change that. No one in this world can accomplish every single goal they set out to do. You need to accept your limits; you can’t win at everything.”

“You don’t get it Leopold!” Layla stormed, her pent up emotions lashing out at her step-father, “I can do this. I have to. Flora needs help.”

“Not at your expense,” Leopold put his hand on her shoulder, “Layla, you’re an outstanding witch, powerful and enterprising. However, you need to accept your failures; this is one of them.”

“I haven’t failed!” Layla protested, her exhausted eyes firing up, “I just have yet to succeed.”

“And normally I’d encourage that attitude,” Leopold agreed, “but not at the cost of yourself. Look at yourself, Layla,” Leopold paused for a moment, softening his face even further, “you’re falling apart. You haven’t spoken to Jean in days, nor have you eaten or slept. You’re pushing everyone you love away. You haven’t even tried to go see Vivi’s twins, you aren’t seeing Jean, you aren’t answering Cesare’s letters, and you aren’t spending time with your own brothers. Are you really doing the right thing?”

“Brutal,” Filius sighed, “but necessary. I’ve seen far too many students wind up like this. Rarely does roundabout persuasion work.”

Layla, having listened this entire time, finally broke. She sobbed, weeks of exhaustion and stress culminating in powerful, racking tears. She was completely depleted of energy, nearly collapsing onto her step-father.

“Hang on,” Leopold steadied her, rubbing her back gently. “That’s it, let it all out. I think it’s time you take a nice rest. We can finish discussing this all tomorrow.”

Layla nodded, still slightly hysterical. As she stood to head to her room, she nearly crumbled to the ground.

“Slowly,” Leopold assisted her, slowly walking her up the stairs, “you’re not exactly in peak condition. Do you need me to call your mother?”

“I’ll be fine,” Layla denied the offer, “thank you Leopold. I’m sorry for yelling at you. It wasn’t nice.”

“It’s quite alright,” Leopold dismissed her worries, “what matters right now is getting you situated in your bed. We can worry about everything else tomorrow? Should I bring a dreamless sleep potion?”

“No thank you,” Layla rejected his suggestion, “I think I can do without it.”

“Alright then,” Leopold hesitantly turned to leave, “holler if you need something.”

“I will,” Layla promised, before settling in her bed. With a flick of her wand, she was dressed in pajamas. She closed her eyes, finally allowing her body to indulge in its needs.

“Thank Merlin,” Larissa mumbled, “I was worried.”

“This is awesome!” Ray shouted, her hair flying in the breeze as they biked across Loire Valley, “great idea Felicia!”

At Felicia’s warning, Lèon swiftly pivoted his bike, narrowly missing a terrified woman.

“Sorry about that!” He called out to the woman. He slowed down, waiting for Felicia to catch up, “Thanks for the heads up, Felicia.”

“I shouldn’t have had to warn you,” Felicia humphs, “you should have been paying closer attention to your surroundings.”

“Do you have to sound so pretentious?” Lèon groaned, “it’s rather demeaning and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Recognizing that the two of you will only end up in a vicious argument if we let this continue,” Victor interjected, “why don’t we just get the picnic set up here? Here’s as good as anywhere.”

“I’ll roll with that,” Ray agreed, parking her bike slowly. After a few moments, the rest of her friends join suit, parking their bikes beside hers.

“I’m noticing something peculiar about these visions,” Flitwick remarked quietly to his colleagues, “they seem to have a form of subliminal messaging.”

“Are you sure?” Horace asked his friend, “I don’t really see it.”

“I concur,” Minerva said, “however, I won’t be so quick to dismiss your idea. What exactly are you seeing?”

“Remember what Lady Aradia said,” Flitwick reminded them, “this entire experience has been, from the start, geared towards benefitting Larissa Greengrass. The goddess very clearly stated that this mass revelation was a blessing for Ms. Greengrass. If this was to be helpful to the occupants of this room as a whole, the dealings of Voldemort, Albus, the aurors, or other essential figures would have been more appropriate to view. However, when you view the entire situation with the context of benefitting Ms. Greengrass, it all makes sense. We haven’t learnt a single useful thing to stopping Voldemort; we’ve only seen Ms. Greengrass’ growth. My hypothesis, therefore, is that each particular scene shown has an underlying message to assist Ms. Greengrass in changing her life.”

“I see where you’re coming from,” Alastor Moody latched on to the idea, “thinking as you have, many of these seemingly benign scenes have a purpose. We saw the internal discussions of the Greengrass family, because Ms. Greengrass was supposed to see the toxicity of her family. We didn’t see the much more important scene, how Voldemort got resurrected, because that had no impact on Ms. Greengrass in particular. This has never been about teaching us how to end the war; it’s been teaching Greengrass how to change her fate, one scene at a time.”

“That does align with what I myself was thinking,” Dumbledore agreed with his old friend, “even take the three scenes we just saw now. The scene with Mr. Damian and his aunt, uncle, and cousins was, in my humble opinion, supposed to show Ms. Greengrass the value of true family. The scene with Ms. Layla, was to remind her the dangers of overworking herself. The scene with Mr. Victor and his friends was to gently tell Ms. Greengrass that she needs to forge connections with other people. These children aren’t the main purpose for watching each scene; it’s their behaviors that are. Ms. Greengrass is supposed to be noticing the behaviors of the children, behaviors likely picked up from her, and use them to adapt and change herself in this new timeline.”

“You may be right,” Minerva quietly agreed, “the question is: what does that mean for us?”

The five were silent; they had no answer.

Chapter Text

“This has been a fun day,” Victor said as he laid down on the ground. He and his friends had just biked for an hour before sitting down for a picnic. 

“This has been a fun day,” Victor said as he laid down on the ground. He and his friends had just biked for an hour before sitting down for a picnic. 

“It has,” Lèon agreed, “it’s nice to be able to let loose. This year is going to be our last year before the exams. We need to take advantage of that.”

“I can’t believe Hogwarts does exams in fifth year,” Ray scoffed, “it’s pointless. Why have an extra year between the exams? Just gives more time for theories and spells to slip out of your brain. Besides, you need the information once you get older, not while you’re a teenager with your biggest problem being dating.”

“You’re right,” Victor agreed, before a sad expression donned his face, “especially this year. With a whole war on the horizon, it’s not going to be easy.”

“You believe that there’s a war?” Felicia asked, surprised, “I’ve never taken you to be the superstitious and conspiratorial type.”

“It’s not a joke, Felicia,” Victor’s harsh eyes flashed, “what reason is there not to believe what Potter said? There is never a reason for any sane person to declare that a madman was on the loose again. Why the entire world is so set on disagreeing is beyond me. They’ve become so complacent with peace that they’d rather prolong it for the moment rather than fight to ensure it lasts.”

“Seems that there’s a lot of trouble in the future,” Lily bit her lip, “I hope that they can deal with it for good this time.”

“So do I,” Mary sighed, “why must people fight? Can’t we all get along?”

“There’s no perfect answer to that Ms. McDonald,” Minerva shook her head,
“different philosophies come to suggest an answer, but, in the end, no one can truly answer that question. It’s just something that we come to live with over life.”

Mary digested the wise words of her professor. She was right; there was no use mulling over such things. There was no answer. It just was.

Regulus, while the people around him sat in quiet or debated morality, came to a startling realization. He recognized that gaze, those stormy eyes that left no room for mercy. He, in that moment, knew good and well who the father of the triplets was. He kept quiet; there was no need for him to share this information. He’d seem foolish if, by any chance, he was wrong. Better keep it to himself. 

“Come on,” Felicia rolled her eyes, “you truly believe that he’s back? Why should we? Potter wanted to be more relevant so he’s piggy-backing off the only thing that he’s known for.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Lèon faced Felicia, eyes challenging her to disagree. “What use does it have for him to pretend the madman who killed his parents is back? How do we even know the guy died in the first place? In context of the resurrection of the Dark Lord, the events of the last few months perfectly align. Potter was put in the tournament in order that they could kidnap him from the school. The tournament was rigged to help him because the death eaters were trying to get to him. Finally, he was probably needed in some ritual to bring the Dark Lord back; after all, his initial defeat came at the hands of the Potters.”

“Still,” Felicia insisted, “why would England deny it if it really happened? They have no reason to. You’ve read the newspapers; the kid is hallucinating. Victor said no sane man would pretend that this guy came back; clearly he’s not a sane man.”

“That article was written by the same person who made a huge deal out of Victor Krum and Hermione Granger,” Ray pointed out, “why on Earth would anyone consider it credible? For Charlemagne’s sake, Skeeter is a tabloid writer; why would you trust a word out of her writing? Besides, one of, if not, the greatest wizards of all time is supporting this. We’ve met Dumblefore before; he’s not insane like they’re saying. Personally, I just think that the minister is terrified about what having the Dark Lord reemerge would do for his image.”

“All good points to make from what we’ve seen,” Moody agreed with Ray and Lèon’s critical thinking, “whoever the minister is better be prepared for the fallout when, inevitably, his coverup slips.”

“It’s alright to be scared,” Victor says softly, realizing why Felicia was so insistent on denying the truth. The main reason why people denied that Voldemort had returned was fear. They’d lived through his decade of power; it wasn’t pretty. “The thing is, you have to face that fear to act logically.”

Felicia bit her lip. “There’s more than just that,” she finally admitted, “my family is going to be involved. My family in England is deeply involved in that sort of business. It gives us all a very bad name. My maman tells me all the time how horrible it was to be a Rosier in those days. Even though we did nothing, we hadn’t even spoken to them in years, we were still lumped together with them. It’s hard to imagine that it will all come back again.”

“Then you’ll have to stand strong,” Lèon clapped her on the back, “show them that the name Rosier can be a force of good. Show them that they’re the ones in the wrong; they’re the ones with the assumptions. Stand for what’s right; we know you can Felicia.”

The quartet lets a moment pass before collectively cringing. 

“Never do that again,” Felicia says amidst her giggles, “it sounds so wrong.”

“I shouldn’t be laughing,” Victor tries to hold himself back, “sorry Lèon.”

“It’s fine,” Lèon joined in the laughter, “it was a little corny.”

The four didn’t know what the future might bring. But for now? They had each other and all the time in the world to spare.

“They remind me of my friends and myself,” Lyra smiled, “I’m pretty sure we’ve done that bike and picnic thing before.”

“We all have,” Daniel rolled his eyes, “you’re not special.”

“So rude,” Lyra tsked, “who taught you manners?”

“The same person who taught you,” Daniel smirked, “so if you want to insult our mother, go right ahead.”

“Urgh!” Lyra cried in frustration. Daniel really knew how to get on her nerves.

“Hi Uncle Austin!” Dorea waved at her uncle as they entered the shop. Damian had decided to take Dorea out for the day. Their first order of business: croissants. 

“There’s my girl,” Austin swung his niece in the air, “how’s our brand new, big sister doing?”

“I’m doing super well,” Dorea chattered cheerfully, “Amber and Jasper are super duper cute. And, and Maman and Daddy bought me a new bike because my old one was too small. Damian also bought me chocolate bonbons. Isn’t that cool Uncle Austin?”

“It’s fabulous,” Austin smiled, putting her down, “now, what brings the two of you to my shop?”

“We’re here for croissants,” Damian answered, “Dorea and I have a busy day planned. We wanted to start off with fresh croissants.”

“Then croissants it is,” Austin ducked behind the counter and, moments later, emerged with two piping hot croissants. “On the house,” he grinned, “in honor of baby Amber and Jasper.”

“He’s so sweet,” Clarene swooned, pleased to see that the boy she’d had her eye on for a while was just as kind in the future as he was now. 

“Someone’s in love~” Serena teased good-naturedly.

“We all knew that already,” Lillian said bluntly, “she talks about the guy all day. This is old news.”

“Way to steal my thunder,” Serena pouted, but didn’t push further. Lillian was right. 

“Alright then,” Damian and Dorea walked out, eating their croissants, “where to next, Rea?”

“Bowling!” Dorea squealed, dropping her croissant in excitement. “Can we please go bowling, Damian?”

“Absolutely,” Damian flicked his wrist, catching the croissant before it hit the floor. “Let’s go.”

The two go out and have a wonderful day. They went bowling, glass melding, and swimming. At around five, they went to a pizza store for dinner, ending in a trip to the ice cream store.

“You two look like you had fun,” Ajax greeted them warmly as they returned, “ready for bed, Dory?”

“Yes” Dorea said, flinging herself onto her father, “I’m ready.”

“I’ll go put her to bed,” Ajax addressed his nephew, “feel free to do as you please. I’ll be free to chat in a few minutes.”

“I don’t see why Guenevive hates this guy so much,” Silas whispered to Gloria, “he seems like a pretty cool dude if you ask me.”

“Guenevive has always been rather arrogant and unappreciative,” Gloria responded, “she may be four years my senior, but I’m far more mature.”

“I think someone’s in denial,” Sirius whispered to Peter, both having overheard the conversation, “hasn’t she been the most arrogant and immature kid here this entire time?”

“People live in delusion,” Peter shrugged, “there’s no reasoning with them.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius agreed, “my  brother is definitely one of them. When will he realize that what Walburga and the Dark Lord are doing is wrong?”

“I’m sure there’ll come a time,” Peter comforted his friend, “for your sake, Pads, I hope it’s before he gets in too deep.”

“All the little ones are sleeping,” Ajax said, coming down the stairs, “as is Guenevive.”

“That’s good,” Damian looked up, “I’m glad that was easy.”

“You know, Damian,” Ajax asked as he sat beside his nephew on the couch, “I’ve been wondering something. Why were you so willing to come and stay with us for the week? Not only were you willing, you even offered in the first place. Kids aren’t easy, yet you volunteered an entire week of your summer to help us with ours. Most boys your age would never do that. Why did you choose to?”

“Family means a lot to me,” Damian began softly, “I never had a complete family. Growing up without a father is hard, as I know you know. The kids at the park alway made fun of us; we moved around a lot because of that. Maman had to work, so we mainly stayed with babysitters. Once Maman and Grandpa Nicholas and Granny Perenelle got close, she brought us with her to work. But even then, she still had to work. Thankfully, we always had the Delancys. Great-Aunt Antiope served as our grandmother for the longest time, and all of my mother’s cousins were happy to treat us as if we were their niece and nephews. But we knew, deep down, that our family had rejected us. It was crushing.”

Ajax sat quietly, listening to what his nephew had to say. Of the three children, almost everyone agreed that Damian was the responsible, mature one. Yet, Ajax wondered if anyone had ever truly listened to Damian, allowing him to share his piece. Damian was always the gentle one, maintaining peace between the rough, angry tendencies of Victor and the chaotic yet tactical drama that composed Layla’s personality. Ajax didn’t interrupt; his job for now was to support his nephew in one way: by listening.

“Layla deals with it by being the best,” Damian continued, “she tests the limits of what we know, experimenting with anything and everything. She likes causing mischief, because it lets her see where people’s boundaries are. She craves to carve an image of herself into this world, one so great that it can surpass her fatherlessness. It’s why she’s so proud of Maman’s achievements, it’s why she reads constantly, and it’s why she pushes herself beyond what she can handle. She needs to be the best because, otherwise, she’ll truly be a bastard. She doesn’t know how to live in a world undefined by that mentality.”

“No matter how the child will twist it,” Melania scowled, “she’ll still be a bastard, There’s no changing that fact. It’s pathetic that she keeps trying.”

“It’s the fate of all of her kind,” Walburga added, “to try and measure up to what they cannot be: pure.”

“Truly pathetic,” Druella hissed, “and they dare to infringe on our pure society, pretending to be smarter than they are. It’s nauseating.”

“Damian,” Ajax pressed gently, “why do you believe this? Did Layla tell you this herself?”

“No,” Damian answered swiftly, “I can just tell. She’s my baby sister; is it weird that I picked up on the way she thinks?”

“I guess not,” Ajax agrees, “you have a point.”

“Anyhow,” Damian continues, “Victor is nearly the opposite. He’s never really cared what anyone thinks. He’s proud of who he is and that’s never changed. But, all the teasing and whispering made him angry. That’s what makes him so quick-tempered. He knows who he is, and he doesn’t like it when people say otherwise. He has some fire, some untouchable power in his heart.” Damian paused, “Combine the surety and anger of Victor and the insecurity and chaos of Layla and you get an oil and water type mix: incompatible.”

“We all know that Layla and Victor are polar opposites,” Ajax tries getting to the crux of the matter, “where are you going with this?

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Damian struggles to put his thoughts to words, “is that I feel stressed out having to mediate between my two siblings. I feel a little out of place in the family, especially as they’ve stopped arguing as much. Now, I feel like I both want them arguing and don’t at the same time. Mediating stresses me out, but I feel like I don’t have another purpose when I’m not doing that. I came here because I needed to find another use for myself. Family is everything to me; I need family to function. Victor’s been out with friends and Layla’s been obsessed with some project. Leopold and Maman speak to me, but they have other responsibilities. I have friends, but they’re not available all day. That’s why I came here; I needed to be helpful somewhere.”

“Seems like it’s this one’s turn to have a deep talk with some trusted adult,” Rabastan Lestrange huffed, “is this finally going to be over? I feel like we’ve been watching these brats for hours.”

“That's because we have, son,” Elladora said sharply, “now, I would stop complaining, lest the goddess chooses to strike you. We’ve tested her patience once, I would like for it not to happen again. Who knows what an all powerful being like the Queen of Witches would do?”

“You don’t need to feel that way,” Ajax put a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder’s, “you are a kid. You don’t need to fill some role, you don’t need to prove your worth. All you need to do is focus on being you. You have so many people who love you for a myriad of different things. Dorea loves you because you always take interest in your hobbies. Arden loves you because you always play with him and toss him in the air. Boaz loves you because you always compliment his art. Guenevive and I love you because you’re our sweet, kind hearted nephew who deserves the world twice over. Your mother loves you because you and your siblings are her children. You don’t need to be something specific, because no matter what you choose to be, we’ll accept it and love you the same way.”

“But how can you love someone no matter how they act?” Damian asked, the words of his uncle touching him deeply.

“Take your aunt and I,” Ajax tossed out an example, “I’m not sure you’d believe this, but Guenevive and I used to be each other’s worst nightmare.”

“Are we going to hear their love story?” Lyra sat up straighter, rubbing her hands together, “oooh, I’m excited!”

Ajax paused, his smile a bit wistful and a bit sheepish simultaneously. “The whole school knew it. We bickered endlessly, dueled endlessly, and hated endlessly. Then came graduation. We both interned at the same place: Charlemagne’s Room.”

“You mean the legendary room that holds the king’s remains?” Damian asked, wide-eyed, “you and Auntie Vivi interned there?”

“Yup,” Ajax confirmed, “we did. Believe it or not, Guenevive once wanted to be a criminal investigator like me. Anyways, due to being put on the same shift, we had to spend a lot of time together. I still disagreed with a lot of what she believed, and still do, but somehow, we reached an understanding. She doesn’t exactly like how I act, in her words, “arrogant, cruel, and sadistic,” and I don’t particularly enjoy her snappiness and condescending attitude. She didn’t like my role as the deviant, harsh interrogator and I didn’t like her role as the dismissive, narrow minded detective. But you know what, that’s okay. I’ve learnt to love that we have our differences and that we don’t see eye to eye. We know which topics to avoid, and most importantly, we know that we love each other more than those beliefs. So yes Damian, it is possible to love someone who acts in a way that you don’t like or doesn't act in the way you expect from them. Ultimately, we need to live in our own skin, no matter how others perceive us. Damian, live freely as the eagle that you are. Your animagus form represents your truest self; the self that you are pushing away now. Embrace that side to you, the side that allows you to do things because you want to do them purely for you.”

“I think I get it,” Damian answered after a few moments of silence, “thanks Uncle Ajax. You’ve given me a lot to think and reconsider.”

“That’s my job kid,” Ajax embraces his nephew, “looking out for you.”

Chapter Text

July 17th, 1995.

“Why are we here?” Layla asks the obvious question. The triplets and their mother had journeyed to the Porquerolles beaches for some unknown reason. 

“I thought we could do with some time as a family,” Larissa smiled gently, “as well as a chance for the four of us to let loose our animagus forms. That’s why Leopold stayed home. He agreed that the four of us needed a chance to unwind together. Especially you Layla; he says you desperately need some sun.”

“That smug man,” Layla scowled as she pictured the expression on her step-father’s face as said that to her mother.

“She seems to be looking better,” Lillian observed, “it seems that the pep talk did its job.”

“Seems so,” Daniel agreed with his sister.

“Sounds like fun,” Damian grinned as he allowed for skin and hair to melt, and for his body to begin shrinking. Slowly, a golden eagle appeared, elegantly jumping and soaring in the air.

“Show off,” Victor rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, he too transformed and leapt into the air. His mother laughed, before she too shrank down, her elegant dove form joining her sons in the air. Layla, the sole land animal amongst them, crouched on the ground, slowly transforming her skin and hair to fur. Fully transformed, she ran as fast as she could, her lithe form easily keeping up with her flying family. 

“Their forms are truly magnificent,” Euphemia Potter watched on, her breath stolen by the sight of the magnificent creatures running or flying freely. 

“That is so cool,” Gideon Prewett’s jaw dropped as he watched the exceptionally fast creatures, despite their human minds, traverse mile after mile. 

“I’ve never seen such a beautiful bird,” Elena remarked, referring to Damian’s golden eagle form, “and he’s fast too.”

“I wonder if the exercise they do as animals affects their human bodies,” Rodolphus, ever the curious mind, wondered aloud. He may be a vicious death eater, but his murderous activities hadn’t stopped his academic drive.

“I think it would,” Regulus Black quietly answered, “seeing as traits from the human body transfer over to the animagus form, it stands to reason that it would work vice versa.”

“Excellent point,” Rodolphus praised his intelligent cousin. The young heir to the Black family was quiet, but that wasn’t due to a lack of intelligent things to say. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Regulus had a brilliant mind, but with it, a soft nature. Despite his myriad of talents, he kept to himself. He was shy by nature and a slight recluse. Rodolphus thought it was rather silly for Orion to allow his son’s abilities and potential to go to waste. Orion and his wife never truly tried to make Regulus great; Rodolphus sought to correct that.

“Flight is truly freeing,” Damian looked as if a million burdens had been lifted off of his shoulders, “I wish we did this sooner. When you’re so high, all your problems become infinitely smaller.”

“You’re not wrong,” Victor laughed, glad to have spent this time together. He turned to his mother, “Maman, how far did we go?”

“About ten miles,” Larissa answered, having checked with a flick of her wand, “it was a lot of fun.”

“I’ve never ran that much in my life,” Layla’s face was radiant. She had needed that run. The sun, the sand, the fresh air, and the company all made her forget her sorrow over Flora’s fate. Perhaps Leopold was right; this was something Flora would need to solve on her own, not by cutting hedges. 

“Come here you three,” Larissa opened her arms, gathering her children in an embrace. They all had their fair share of troubles. In the end, though, they had each other. Through thick and thin.

July 28th, 1997.

“I’m still not happy about this,” Larissa Arquette, two years older, frowns. 

“We’ll be fine, Maman,” Layla kissed her mother’s cheek, “besides, we’re going in and out for the wedding. We’re not wasting a single moment more.” Layla had grown considerably over two years. Her face and body had matured, and her hair had settled into a rich red. Her jade eyes, one of her finer features, had changed significantly. A yellowish ring had formed, causing her eyes to resemble her animagus form’s eyes. Put together with a firm confidence, Layla was a stunning beauty.

“Seems as if time passed,” Lucius Malfoy observed coldly, “I wonder how much. The girl, despite her blood, has grown into a startlingly attractive young woman.”

“Her beauty is undeniable,” Lucinda agreed, “she would make a good wife. Her children would be beautiful.”

“Perhaps for a family less than our own,” Narcissa, not wanting to straightforwardly compliment an illegitimate child, said evasively. 

“Indeed,” Lucius agreed, “a Malfoy can only marry someone of the purest of blood.”

“As well as a Black,” Narcissa added, reminding her husband of her own, superior blood. 

“We’ll be there as well,” Damian put a strong hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I passed our exams with a 113% in defense, Maman. I’ve been accepted to three international dueling academies. I’m telling you, we will be fine.” Damian had only grown more good-looking, his strawberry blond locks cropped short and neatly combed back. 

“You’re underestimating the power of the death eaters,” Larissa said bluntly, “they’re stronger than you think. Besides, with their leader publicly acknowledged, there is no hiding as they did a year or two ago. They have no shame over their crimes. You may be talented, but they have experience. Far more than any of you do.”

“What your mother is trying to say,” Leopold interjects, “is that she doesn’t feel like England is a safe place for you three to go, plain and simple. I agree with her. You’re not even particularly close with Fleur; there’s no need to attend her wedding.”

“It’s not just about Fleur’s wedding,” Victor reminded his mother, “we have other reasons to go. I have to take an aptitude test at Gringotts. Damian is going to sort out Grandpa Nicholas’ accounts now that we’re legal adults. Layla and Cesare wanted to spend time together. There’s more to this trip than just the wedding.”

“Seems the war has no end,” Molly Weasley sighed hopelessly.

“It’ll end,” Arthur squeezed her hand, “every dark lord before has been defeated. He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named will be no exception. It may take years and a lot of death, but he will be stopped.”

Larissa sighed. “Follow me,” she gestured for her children. Confused, they followed their mother into her lab. Larissa’s lab was full of knick knacks of all kinds. She had bubbling cauldrons on one side, pages and pages of parchment on the other, and shelves full of all sorts of handcrafted artifacts. In the corner was a bin to dump failed experiments safely. Piles and piles of books were stacked on the floor and shelves and papers were strewn over the floor.

“What exactly do you have planned?” Leopold asked his wife, worried about the craze in her eyes.

“Sit down,” she hit her children with a piercing stare. Hey instantly compiled, sitting on the workbench, confused as to what their mother intended to do.

“I wasn’t planning on ever using this,” Larissa opened her desk drawer, whisking out a brush, “it was far too sacrilegious to even consider, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“This must have something to do with what the goddess loves her for,” Arcturus smirked as he observed the visions, “this is the only sort of religious mentions or references over this entire experience.”

“Keep a careful eye out,” Rudolph instructed his sons, “I can just tell Arcturus is plotting something. I can’t let him reach it before me.”

“Maman,” Layla eyed her mother’s frantic actions warily. Her mother was mixing herbs and potions into her mortar, her pestle mixing everything smoothly. She took the brush she had retrieved earlier and let it soak in the mortar. She waved her wand, creating a magic circle of glowing light, her eyes seemed to shine as she waved her wand, magic words tumbling out of her mouth in a flurry. She took the brush in her hand, and traced the magic circle with it, carefully making sure to make everything exact. As soon as she did, a huge light shone bright. Smoke, mist, dust, water, and fire swirled in the air, twisting and turning before forming four stones. The stones, after glowing brightly, cooled, and dropped on her desk.

“Absolutely brilliant,” Dumbledore marvelled, “she modified Nicholas’ formula, added something that seemed similar to an old Welsh magic circle, and completed the rest with something of her own creation. Nicholas created a real gemstone in her.”

“What in Merlin’s name did she do?” Horace wondered, “you’re the only one who seems to know.” For all of the obscure knowledge he had, Horace couldn’t figure out what he’d just seen.

“I’m certain she’ll be able to explain far better than me,” Dumbledore replied, “so wait a moment.”

Horace was on the edge of his seat. Just what did his former student do?

“You did not warn me that that was going to happen?” Leopold freaked out. “Larissa, we talked about warning me about dangerous things, remember?”

“Sorry,” Larissa apologized with her words, but clearly not her eyes. Her eyes were frantic . Her arms were trembling as she lifted the stones, and slowly approached her children. She took Damian’s hand, and asked, with her eyes, for permission. When he nodded in acceptance, she placed the stone in his palm. The stone melted into his skin, disappearing before everyone’s eyes. They all stood, gaping with open mouths, not quite knowing what to say.

“What the hell, Maman?” Victor broke the eerie silence, “what was that?

“A variant of an old protection ritual Nicholas worked on,” Larissa responded breathlessly, watching as golden magic trailed up Damian’s arm. “I combined it with an old Welsh ritual. Then I edited it to fit my intentions. These stones are forged from heaven and earth; I dragged the power of the heavens down to earth for you. They should be able to break all chains and wards. They’ll glow red as danger approaches. They can sense poison and will glow black. These stones will glow white if you’re ill or hurt.  They will stop you from ever being caught unaware. They will protect you.” She took the remaining stones, pressing them into the palms of her loved ones.

“Truly remarkable,” Antiope said, a bitter tone to her soft words. Perhaps, had her husband had such a thing, they would have caught on to his illness earlier. Perhaps he’d still be with her.

“The Dark Lord would be interested in such a thing,” Bellatrix smiled gleefully, “oh Rodolphus, we must tell him.”

“We shall,” Rodolphus concurred with his wife, “with the minimal amount of information we can give him, I’m certain he can replicate the process.”

“I didn’t even know such a thing was possible with magic,” Lily was gobsmacked, “it’s truly amazing.”

“There are very few people who can create such things,” Edgar Greengrass muttered to himself, “it just doesn't seem worthwhile to disown Larissa, even if she should whore herself out. Her brain is far too valuable.”

“Feel as you must,” Andrea tsked, “she has still disgraced herself. Remember that, Edgar.”

“I won’t forget,” Edgar said firmly, “never.”

“Will you make one for Asher?” Leopold asked.

“Asher’s too young for such a thing,” Larissa shook her head, “the intense magic can affect him negatively. Besides, I already monitor him constantly; he’s in no need for one of these.”

“I guess this is goodbye for now,” Larissa kissed each of her children on the forehead, “come home safely.”

“We will,” Layla promised her mother, “we’ll make it back in time for Asher’s first birthday.”

“He can’t have a party without his big brothers and sister,” Victor winked, “we’ll be back before you know it.”

“Seems that there’s a fourth child now,” Leanne quietly congratulated her sister, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Thank you,” Larissa responded, equally as quiet. The two sisters were far more alike than they had ever realized.

August 1st, 1997.

“You look stunning,” Estelle Borier-Delancy gasped as her younger cousin walked out of her room. Laylas was dressed in a gorgeous yellow  dress, with gold vines crawling up her arms, a golden belt around her waist, and sparkling topazes sewn carefully into the skirt of her dress. The dress was backless, and a translucent scarf made of golden threads was draped on her shoulders and over her arms. Her red hair was tied halfway in a braid, the rest curling down her shoulders gracefully. Golden earrings hung off her ears, and a gorgeous necklace rested on her neck. 

“Let’s go,” Layla extended her hand to her cousin, “we ought not to be late.”

“Come back right after,” Victor reminded his sister, “don’t dawdle.”

“I won’t,” Layla kissed her brother’s cheek, “good luck on the test.”

“Thank you,” Victor shoved his sister towards his cousin, “off you go then.”

“Other than his coloring,” Gloria bit her lip, “he looks exactly like Larissa. When they were younger, he didn’t seem to look much like her while the others did. Now, he looks more like her and the others have her coloring, but someone else’s features.”

“I see what you mean,” Silas tilted his head, scrutinizing the children, “he’s definitely Larissa’s son.”

“We’ve well established that, Silas,” Edmund pointed out to his brother.

“I know that,” Silas deadpanned, rolling his eyes, “I was just trying to say it was visually obvious now.”

Victor walked through the halls of Gringotts, a slightly anxious feeling in his chest. His instructor, Arthur Newman, had already tested his theoretical skills. It was time for the practical.

“Here we are Mr. Flamel,” Arthur led him to a room filled with goblins, “they’ll be supervising as well.”

“I will fulfill my tasks to the tee,” Victor declared solemnly, “what would you have me do?”

“You are to enter this cursed vault,” an old looking goblin spoke gravelly, “should you come out without a scratch, you will have passed the test. We will then be able to send the results back to France.”

“Very well,” Victor nodded, “when may I begin?”

“He’s a good sport,” Moody noted, “important for any sort of work.”

Victor analysed the room he was in. His palm was glowing red, a sure sign of danger. He silently cast a supersensory spell, heightening his senses. Even in human form, he retained the heightened senses of his animagus form. Hence, a supersensory spell fine-tuned his sense to an unprecedented, inhumane level. He instantly heard the mechanics under the floor, his low frequency hearing picking up traces of a spring trap. Victor listened carefully, avoiding the parts of the floor where he heard the mechanics. In his peripheral vision, he saw the arrows coming, and deftly cast a strong spell, wrestling control of the arrows to himself. Noticing the long corridor ahead, he redirected the arrows to pick and prod, setting off only the traps that wouldn’t cause the room to collapse.

“He’s skilled,” Flitwick observed, “but still inexperienced. His unique constitution and abilities are what are causing his success. He’ll need to learn not to rely so heavily on them.

“Damn it,” Victor cursed as the pixies flew in, one nipping at his leg. He quickly blasted them away, their small bodies blown up by the strength of his curse. Healing the bite took time, time that almost caused him to miss the split-second opening of a secret passage. Casting a heat detecting spell, Victor knew there were no living beings ahead. He then cast a magic sensing spell of his grandfather’s design, sparkling magic flowing in a line from his wand, seeing if there was any deep-seated magic ahead. When it caught three traps, Victor smirked, instantly breaking the curse with a spell.

He reached the end, a golden chalice before him. Knowing better than to just touch it, Victor carefully scanned it over, casting over eight spells, ensuring that there were no curses on the object. Once he was sure, he grabbed it and headed out the door.

“Impressive,” Newman clapped as Victor exited the vault, “that’s a record.”

“With his upbringing I’m not surprised,” Marlene said admiringly, “as if that was going to be a challenge for him.”

“We’ll send your results back quickly,” Newman promised, “in the meantime, you’re free to go. It was a pleasure to have proctored the exam of such an exquisitely talented young man.”

“Thank you,” Victor nodded in appreciation and turned to leave.

“Wait a minute,” the proctor called back hesitantly, “may I ask you a question?”

“Ask,” Victor paused, turning back ever so slightly, “I’ll choose whether or not to respond.”

“Who are your parents?” Newman asked, “Nicholas Flamel was never known to have any children. How are you Victor Flamel?”

“Is the last name really such a big deal?” Lily asked her professor, “I mean, it wouldn't be abnormal for there to be others with the same surname.”

“It’s far more complicated than that,” Minerva explained to her student, “the French ministry has forbidden anyone to possess the Flamel surname. It was a tribute to his efforts and accomplishments. In order to possess the surname, one must receive his permission. It’s a great honor for one to have Nicholas Flamel’s surname. He may not be particularly famous in the average person’s eye, but most experts who know anything will be familiar with the name. It’s truly a gift inextinguishable by death.”

“My mother was his student,” Victor answered carefully, “he extended his surname to us in his will.”

“That’s amazing,” Newman’s eyes widened, “you’ve met Nicholas Flamel?”

“He was like my grandfather,” Victor said, a melancholic tone to his voice, “now, I have matters to attend to, so I’ll be taking my leave.”

Victor walked off. He had taken this test in order to apply for the Beauxbatons exchange program with Mahoutokoro, the Japanese magic academy. Most schools accepted Gringotts’ curse-breaking aptitude test as a standard, hence, his visit to England. He may not wind up being a curse-breaker for life, but it was something he was deeply passionate about doing. Besides, what could go wrong?

Chapter Text

Damian groaned. He’d been sitting in this room for two hours, waiting for the goblins to finish sorting out his paperwork. He’d brought the key to the vaults, had brought the will, and had even brought his own apparition license to serve as identification. Still, the goblins insisted on processing everything their way, hence the two hour delay as all of his identification was scrutinized by every ranking of goblins there was.

When the goblin teller finally re-entered the room, Damian couldn’t help but get a little sharp with him.

“Have I proven my identity yet?” He asked coolly, “I have other business to attend to.”

“Seems like he’s lost a little of that sunny disposition,” Peter observed, “he sort of reminds me of when Moony gets mad.”

“I see what you’re saying,” Sirius agreed, “they have that same dispassionate, blank type stare. Lily has it too.”

“Lily definitely has it,” James shuddered, having been given Lily’s deadpan expression before.

“Yes,” the goblin answers gruffly, clearly not pleased to be dealing with him, “we have verified that you are indeed Nicholas Flamel’s hair, as well as that you are truly the proxy of both Victor and Layla Flamel respectively.”

“Lovely,” Damian placed his hands on the table, “then if that’s all settled, may we move on to the other issues at hand? We need the vaults split into three based on preset terms between my siblings and I. In order to split the estate properly, I need a full accounting of their contents.”

“How do you plan to split the vaults?” the goblin smiled sharply, likely looking to see how he could snatch a cut for the bank.

“That depends on what is left in them,” Damian said diplomatically, “we have a system in place for any scenario. We’ve already dealt with vaults in three other countries and each country’s vaults were divided differently. We each want different types of things out of this inheritance, hence why I must know what’s in the vaults to divide them properly.”

“I wonder what kind of fortune Nicholas Flamel possessed,” Rudolph Lestrange eyed the vision, his greed evident, “living for so long gives one time to amass fortunes.”

“Indeed,” Elladora agreed with her husband, “it’s intriguing to note what such an ancient genius has stored away.”

“What is their problem?” Gideon Prewett whispered to his brother, “they can’t even get the money, why are they so fixated on it?”

“Because they’re greedy assholes,” Fabian rolled his eyes, “they have nothing better to do.”

“Very well,” the goblin grit his sharp teeth and went to retrieve the paperwork. He returned moments later, three rolls of parchment nearly slipping out of his short arms. He handed the paperwork over to Damian, who quickly read it over. He took out a notepad and carefully began jotting things down. The goblin looked on somewhat curiously; after all, the Flamel fortune  was  extensive. Knowing the contents and decisions was a unique piece of information to hold.

“I think I’ve gotten it all figured out,” Damian said after a brief period of silence. “Please take the jewelry and split it evenly over Layla’s vault and my own. However, please ensure that the Midnight stone necklace is placed in my vault.”

“Very well,” the goblin scribbled down the direction, “anything else?”

“The relics are to be deposited evenly between the three vaults,” Damian informed him, “any excess that won’t fit into the division should be placed in Victor’s vault. The books should be placed evenly in both mine and Layla’s respective vaults. The deeds to any properties, businesses, and investments should go to Victor. The money should be split three ways, any excess going to Layla’s vault.”

“It seems that the girl will have a very valuable bride price,” Druella mused, “I wonder if there will be anyone of the Black family who could take it.”

“I’m afraid that’s unlikely,” her husband sighed, “she is still in a relationship with the Nott boy. Besides, I don’t think that there are any Blacks around at that point in time. All that’s left would be Narcissa’s child, and the Malfoy’s don’t seem interested in the girl.”

“It’s a shame that that whole fortune will go to the Notts,” Druella shook her head, “while their blood is as pure as it can be, everything else is quite lacking.”

“I will see that it is done,” the goblin agreed, “you will be able to pick up the new keys in approximately a week. Would you like to go to the vault today?”

“Yes,” Damian nodded, “I wish to retrieve a certain piece of jewelry as well as to get funds for our stay here.”

“Follow me then,” the goblin led Damian to the carts, “please keep your hands in the cart.”

Damian stepped forward, sitting in the cart. His ears, with their eagle-like sense of hearing, picked up a strange conversation about a sword. His eyes, keen as an eagle’s, could see further than he assumed the goblins would have liked. He simply ignored it all, focusing on getting to his grandfather’s vault.

Once he arrived, he put a significant amount of money into a limitless pouch. He knew that he and his siblings were going to want to indulge on their vacation, so he wanted to be prepared.

He picked up the piece of jewelry that he’d seen on the list of the vault’s contents. It was a particularly stunning piece, a necklace made of hundreds of diamonds, opals, and pearls. It was likely something that his grandfather had bought for his grandmother many years ago. Damian intended to give it to his mother as a birthday present.

“The vault is definitely packed,” Sirius whistled, “the Black vault has more, but that’s probably because it’s the entire fortune. That vault is only the English portion. Flamel must be loaded.”

After retrieving what he needed, Damian left, finally satisfied with the results of his day.

Meanwhile, Layla was at a place called the Burrow, taking part in the dancing at Fleur’s wedding. Fleur and her husband, Bill Weasley, lead the dancers on the dance floor. After dancing for an hour, Layla took a break by the drink station.

“Hello Mr. Potter,” she greeted Harry, who seemed to be standing all by himself, “I didn’t think you’d be here, let alone out in the open.”

“You must have been mistaken,” Harry said panicked, “my name’s Barny, Barny Weasley.”

“Is your son okay?” Mary whispered to Lily, “He is very clearly Harry Potter.”

“Perhaps he’s inherited more of James’s stupidity than I previously thought,” Lily whispered back.

“I’m not so sure,” Marlene eyed the visions critically, “he seems genuinely confused that she recognizes him. Something’s up.”

“Did you change your name then?” Layla asked confusedly, “Or maybe you married one of the Weasleys. I mean, you are quite young, but love will be love I guess.”

“I didn’t marry any Wealsey,” Harry awkwardly tried to explain, “I am a Weasley, always have been. Can’t you tell from the red hair and freckles?”

“It looks like he’s supposed to be in some sort of disguise,” Moody said to himself, “the stones that Ms. Greengrass gave the lass must be causing her to be able to see through the disguise.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Layla put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but you’re not a redhead, nor do you have freckles. Did you perhaps have too much to drink?”

“You can really see me,” Harry gaped at her, “how?”

“Uhm,” Layla stared at Harry weirdly, “with my two eyes. Though, at this point, I’m starting to think that there’s something more to this story.”

“I’m using polyjuice,” Harry finally admitted, “how can you see through it?”

Layla froze in place. She could see through polyjuice? Was this something that that stone had done? Had it allowed her to see through illusions?

“That’s an incredible piece of magic,” Flitiwick squeaked in surprise, “truly a remarkable achievement. I wonder if there are other sorts of effects the stone had on the children.”

“I don’t know,” Layla answered, unsure what to say, “but I probably should leave then. If I can see your identity, it’s probably not safe for you and me to be interacting.”

“You’re probably right,” Harry agreed, “have a good evening.”

“You as well,” Layla waved goodbye, going to find someone else to talk to.

Layla socialized for a little longer, speaking to a few people her age. She spotted Estelle and Freya multiple times, speaking to one or two of their relatives.

Just as she was about to leave, the room turned somber. A glowing patronus burst through the air.

“The Ministry has fallen,” an unknown voice warned them calmly, “Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

“It seems that our lord is going to win,” Bellatrix smirked, “those lowly mudbloods and blood traitors never stood a chance.”

“Indeed,” Rabastan grinned maliciously, “my blood is just itching for the day where we can slaughter those usurpers and return magic to its rightful owners.”

“That’s our home,” Molly gasped, “the wedding is our son’s. Oh Merlin, are they going to die?”

“Calm down,” Arthur reassured his wife, taking her hand into his, “I’m sure everything will be fine. You need to breathe.”

“Arthur’s right,” Oscar told his daughter gently, “take a deep breath and watch, Hopefully, everything will be okay.”

“Stelle!” Layla shouted screaming for her cousins, her arms flashing bright red, a sign of danger, “Freya!”

As she ran for them, black clad wizards broke into the outdoor tent. Screams erupted as the death eaters started shooting spells at the civilians. Layla wielded her wand gracefully, sending enemy death eaters flying behind her.

As she fought, she noticed her cousins struggling in her peripheral vision. She bounded over to them, casting a strong shield charm to cover their backs.

“Layla!” Freya breathed a sigh of relief, “how are we getting out of this? I don't think we can fight our way out and I don’t know the area well enough to apparate.”

Layla considered her options. In order to keep them safe, she’d have to break the law.

“I’m going to make a portkey,” Layla said as she flung a blasting curse at an incoming death eater, “we can escape with it. I’ll have to buy us the time first though, so be ready to act quickly”

“That’s smart of her,” McGonagall acknowledged, “although she may have to face the repercussions for the illegality of the act. I doubt she’ll be punished too severely though, seeing as it’s a clear case of an emergency.”

“Got it,” Estelle quickly accepted the plan, “what can we do to help?”

“Just stay on your toes,” Layla shouted as she narrowly deflected a disarming charm, “neither of you are very good at dueling, so just stick by me.” Layla froze the incoming death eaters, created a stone wall, and cast an even stronger shield, buying them some time.

Layla opened her bag, grabbing a book from its depths. “Portus,” she cast, tapping her wand on the book, watching it glow blue as the spell took effect.

“Grab on,” she directed her cousins, as they didn’t have time, “and don’t let go.” The three grabbed the book, waiting for the magic to take them away.

As the portkey was activating, Layla’s arm shone red again. She looked around, and cursed as the wall was broken and a bright purple spell headed straight for them.

“She has two options,” Fleamont Potter shook his head sadly, “she can let go and not escape in order to deflect the curse. Or she can stay holding the portkey and get hit. Neither is a very good option.”

“I hope she’ll be okay,” Euphemia’s heart went out to the poor girl. Battles were never pretty and never ended well.

“Stay safe,” Layla smiled sadly at her cousins, “I’ll be fine.” She let go, flicking her wand in time to cast a shield spell. Her cousins stared in horror as they disappeared, Layla being left behind.

“You’re going to regret that,” Layla cracked her knuckles, before sending an entrail expelling curse at the death eater. She fought ferociously, knocking death eater after death eater out.

It seemed that the death eaters had realized that they needed back up, because the battlefield nearly froze when the next death eater arrived. The woman had crazy black curls, a maddened look in her eyes, and pale skin. She flicked her wand, sending curse after curse at the fighters.

“You have talent,” she approached Layla, “it’s a shame that it’s wasted on blood traitors.” Layla raised her wand defiantly, not planning on giving up. She calculated the speed it would require for her to slash at the woman in her animagus form. It was certainly something the woman wouldn’t be prepared for, and she wouldn’t be able to block in time.

“Just kill or capture her already, Bella,” a man with dark red hair rolled his eyes, “Our Lord will not appreciate us waiting around.”

“Seems that you two are still around,” Rabastan grinned at his brother and sister-in-law, “looking good, Bella.”

“I look magnificent,” Bellatrix agreed, “as do you, Rodolphus.”

“Thank you,” Rodolphus bent his head in acknowledgment, “but that is not important. I just hope my skills didn’t fade.”

“You’re such a bore, Rodolphus,” the woman, or Bella, frowned, but seemed to agree. She sent a binding spell at Layla so quickly, that Layla’s animalistic reflexes didn’t have time to respond. Still, the moment the ropes touched her body, they instantly burnt away. Layla took advantage of the moment, spurring herself back into battle.

Bella, although clearly surprised, adapted back to battle quickly. The two death eaters worked together, slowly wearing Layla’s defenses down. Eventually, Bella managed to distract her long enough for Rodolphus to hit her with a stunner.

“We’re really capturing her?” Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, watching as her husband tried to tie the girl up, only for the binds to dissolve.

“You and I can both tell that something’s strange,” Rodolphus pointed at the dissolving ropes, “I want to investigate it.”

“Ever the academic,” Bellatrix rolled her eyes once more, before her eyes gleamed darkly, “though it better not take precedence over our lord’s will, you understand?”

“Crazy as ever,” Sirius scoffed. He was worried about Layla. On a level of pain, being in Bellatrix’s hands was second only to being in the Dark Lord’s.

“I know,” Rodolphus scooped Layla up, “want to have a hand at questioning her? You’ve always been better at interrogation than I have.”

“I would love to,” Bellatrix cackled, “no one holds back answers when I ask questions.”

Layla was woken up about an hour later, her head pounding and vision groggy. The woman from before was smirking above her.

“I have a few questions to ask,” she licked her lips in anticipation, “so I hope you’ll be helpful.”

“Just don’t get too much blood on my floors, Bellatrix,” a blonde woman scrunched her nose from the side, “I hate that irony smell it leaves.”

“Will do, Cissy,” the dark haired woman promised, “Rabastan, go find that blood removing potion, will you?”

“Seems that we’re still together,” Narcissa gave her sister a small smile, “I’m glad, Bella.”

“Serving the dark lord together is wonderful,” Bellatrix responds with a grin of her own, “I hope that perhaps in the future you will find your way into the ranks.”

“I’ve said it many times before,” Narcissa reminded her sister, “I’m not particularly suited to battlefields and would be far more helpful supporting behind the scenes.”

“Suit yourself,” Bellatrix shrugged, “I think you’d do wonderfully on the battlefield though. The blood red would look good with your eyes.”

“Already got it,” Rabastan raised a potion up, “we haven’t done this in a while, so I came prepared. I do hope you’ll allow me to lend you a hand.”

“We’ll see,” Bellatrix then turned to Layla, “now then girlie, let’s see what we can get out of you.”

Layla looked up at the woman, her jade-green eyes confused. What could this woman possibly want to interrogate her about? She was glad, of course, that she hadn’t been killed, but she was unsure what sort of information the woman could want from her.

“Let’s put a little fear in you first,” the dark haired woman grinned wickedly, “crucio!”

Larissa looked away, unwilling to watch someone of her own blood be tortured. Plenty of other adults in the room did the same, unwilling to watch the torture of a child.

Layla screamed as the red spell hit her. She tried using wandless magic to try and soothe the pain, but it was barely helping. After about twenty seconds, the woman stopped.

“First question,” the woman snapped, getting Layla’s attention, “what’s your name?”

“Layla,” Layla answered hoarsely.

“Not enough,” the woman recast the spell, leaving Layla squirming and twitching as she screamed in pain. “Full name. I can’t identify you by only your first name.”

“Flamel,” Layla rasped out desperately, “Layla Flamel.”

“Not possible,” Bellatrix further tortured, “lying won’t help you. What is your full name?”

As she screamed, Layla noticed that her arms were glowing white. Her mother had said that the stone would glow white when she was ill or hurt. Thinking of her mother, Layla decided to tell the woman her former surname, hoping the torture would end.

“Layla Greengrass,” Layla shouted, voice raw with pain, “I used to be Layla Greengrass.”

“I hope this doesn't reflect badly on our family,” Edgar groaned, “we worked so hard to secure a place for our family within the ranks, yet a stupid bastard might ruin it all.”

“Let’s hope not,” Andrea tried to calm her husband, “people will likely know our family and realize that she’s not part of the bloodline. I’m sure of it.”

“Greengrass you say?” Bellatrix's eyes filled with fury, “Which one of those pests had a child that betrayed the cause?”

“I bet it was Silas,” Rabastan popped in from his arm chair, “he always had a weird look to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Narcissa cut in, “Silas isn’t nearly old enough to have a child of that age.”

“Instead of debating it,” Rodolphus suggested, “why don’t you just ask the girl herself?”

“That’s good with me,” Bellatrix tossed a knife at Layla, the blade nearly missing her head, “who’s your father?”

“This isn’t going to end well,” Dumbledore sighed, pitying the poor girl. He knew Beelatrix’s style. When Layla inevitably answered that she didn’t know, Belaltrix would see it as protecting her father. The poor girl was in for a painful experience.

“I don’t know,” Layla answered truthfully.

“Not an answer,” Bellatrix whipped out her wand, sending the crucitous curse right back at Layla, “answer me truthfully. You can’t protect him forever; I’ll find out one way or another.”

“I don’t know,” Layla sobbed as the curse finally released, “I really don’t know.”

“Try asking about her mother,” Narcissa finally suggested, “I know all the wives of the family. I’ll match the name to the brother.”

“Very well,” Bellatrix switched questions, “who is your mother?”

“Larissa Arquette,” Layla answered quickly, not wanting to get hit with the curse again, “she was a Greengrass before she got married.”

Bellatrix groaned. There was nothing interesting coming out of that interrogation. Her future self was boring her.

“Larissa?” Narcissa finally seemed to recognize the name, “Wasn’t she the daughter who got disowned years ago for getting pregnant out of wedlock?”

“Larissa you say,” Rabastan stood up from his seat, coming over to Bellatrix’s side. He grabs on Layla’s cheek, turning her face from side to side. He stands silent above her for a moment, before motioning for Bellatrix to return to Rodolphus.

“This Larissa,” he asks her, taking out his wand and running it along her cheek, “you say she’s your mother?”

“Yes,” Layla replied amidst grit teeth, “she’s my mother.”

“Your eyes,” Rabastan continued to ask, “are they hers by any chance?”

“Yes,” Layla grits out, confused by the new line of questioning, “they are.”

“Red hair,” Rabastan muses, “sharp cheekbones, and jade eyes.” He seems to come to some conclusion and steps away from Layla, turning to face Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

“I knew it,” Regulus stares at the vision, unsettled at his prediction.

“Well then,” he clapped his hands, a surprisingly sheepish expression on his face, “that confirms it.”

“Confirms what?” Rodolphus asked his brother, “Rabastan, you’re not making much sense.”

“Congratulations brother,” Rabastan waved his hands hesitantly, “it would seem that you’re an uncle.”

“What?” Layla, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and even Narcissa’s eyes widened.

“Surprise?” Rabastan shrugged sheepishly, “There’s no doubt about it. The hair, the face, the nose says it all; the girl’s mine.”

Chapter Text

Silence overtook the room, at least for a few moments. It seemed that people didn’t know what to say.

“So they were mine all along,” Rabastan muttered to himself, “all along, the children have been mine.”

“I should’ve known,” Elladora cursed herself, “the older boy, well Damian, is a near carbon copy of Rabastan at that age. The blond hair, the eyes, the freckles, the glasses, all of that threw me off.”

“I’ve known for a little over an hour,” Regulus hesitantly spoke up, catching his parents’ attention. “Victor has Rabastan’s eyes. When he got serious, all I could see was Rabastan’s glare.”

“Clever,” Orion praised his son, “you should have told me though.”

“I didn’t want to be wrong,” Regulus admitted, “I was basing it all off of a glare.”

He also hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell Larissa Greengrass the truth. Over the last few hours, or however long they’d really been here for, he’d come to rethink a few things in his life. He’d come to realize that the Dark Lord was wrong. Everything he was doing made no sense. He was only making purebloods suffer, killing off talented people, and propagating useless violence. Few people celebrated the Dark Lord’s reign; many celebrated his downfall. 

Regulus had just watched the life of someone scorned by the Dark Lord’s reign. He’d watched the pain that a so-called pureblood went through, all for an action that had never been her fault to begin with. It wasn’t the triplets’ fault that they were bastards; Regulus understood that near immediately in the visions. However, towards the middle, he’d realized the same applied to half-bloods and muggleborns. They didn’t choose their birth; neither did purebloods. If that was true, then why were only purebloods rewarded for their birth? Regulus had been thinking, thinking harder than he ever did. He would have to speak with Ms. Leanne Greengrass as soon as this was all over. She was a Slytherin pureblood who threw away the ideology. Perhaps she had the answers he sought.

“I always knew that he was scum,” Sirius scowled, glaring harshly in the direction of the revealed rapist. “He ought to burn in hell.”

“Definitely,” James agreed, a dark look in his eyes. He turned to look at his parents, and had to do a double take when he saw his mother brandishing her fan. “Mum, why does it look like you’re about to go to war with that fan?”

“Oh no you don’t, Effy,” Fleamont grabbed onto his wife, cursing under his breath, “I am not having you invoke a goddess’s wrath on our family over punching a despicable piece of worm in the face.”

“She won’t punish us,” Euphemia retorted, anger flashing in her eyes, “hell, I’m certain she’d reward us for it. She’s fond of the Greengrass girl; I’m certain she wishes to do it herself.”

Fleamont sighed and returned to his useless battle. His wife was stubborn when she wanted to be; James got his tenacity from her.

“Are you alright?” Antiope put a gentle hand on her niece’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Larissa answered quietly, turning to the other Delancys who all clearly wanted to try and speak with her. All of them sported angry faces. “I’m not interested in talking right now, Auntie.”

“Alright then,” Antiope said, but still didn't remove her arm, “speak when you’re ready. I’ll be there to listen.”

“We’ll have to keep him under watch when we get back,” Dumbeldore whispered to Moody, not wanting to cause a commotion, “inform the Order as well as the aurors.”

“Monsters,” Minerva cursed, “the entirety of that group. They deserve the hottest fires of hell.”

Horace remained quiet. He couldn’t say anything. It was his fault that this all happened. He had created the environment in which Voldemort rose. He was the head of house for most of the death eaters. Rabastan was his student. Rabastan, like many of his former pupils, had done something abominable. He had long grown accustomed to the pain he was feeling at the revelation. It was, unfortunately, second nature by then.

“We’ll track him down,” Gideon promised, sharing a look of agreement with Fabian, “we’ll put him behind bars before this can happen. “

“You better,” Molly looked at Rabastan with a stern gaze, “monsters like him deserve the company of the dementors.”

“Lestrange has won,” Abraxas sneered, “with those kids under his name, there’s no way that he won’t dominate society. The Dark Lord will give his favor solely to them.”

“Let’s hope your son is trained well,” Lucinda turned anxiously to Lucius, “I’m certain he will be. You’re no slouch Lucius, neither is Narcissa. A child of yours can have as much talent as those three, I’m certain.”

“No doubt about that,” Narcissa replied haughtily, “any child of Houses Malfoy and Black will reign supreme. Just watch, I’m certain we’ll see it.”

“What does this mean?” Rodolphus looked as if he aged nearly twenty years, burying his face in his hands, “tell me the full truth, Rabastan. Don’t hide a single detail.”

“Do you remember when I killed that one family?” Rabastan asked off-handedly, “The one with almost twenty people?”

“Yes,” Rodolphus asked confusedly, “it was very impressive that you dealt with them all by yourself. What does it have to do with anything?”

Moody and Prewetts noted down the information. Rabastan was far more dangerous than they’d originally understood.

“The Dark Lord rewarded me afterwards,” Rabastan shrugged, “told me to relax, to have some fun. He said I could take any woman I wanted; he’d deal with any of the potential repercussions. I took the oldest Greengrass girl, Larissa. Afterwards, I had a whole bunch of missions and forgot about it all. Then we went to Azkaban and well, you know how Azkaban was.” Rabastan paused, gesturing at Layla, “I never would have thought anything of it until this girl said that Larissa was her mother. That’s when I remembered that I slept with her. I looked at the girl here and saw my features. Other than the eyes, she’s a female copy of me. Hence, she must be my child.”

Rodolphus groaned. This situation was far too Rabastan-like to not be true. He was the one who’d had to clean up all of Rabatan’s messes over the years. This situation wasn’t unreasonable.

“Well then,” he turned to Bellatrix, “we first need to figure out why our newly-revealed niece was at some blood-traitor’s wedding. If she’s part of the Order of the Phoenix, we’ll deal with her as we do all the others. If she has a good enough reason to be there, we’ll decide what to do with her. After we figure everything out, we’ll talk to the Dark Lord. Does that plan work with everyone?”

“She best have a good explanation,” Bellatrix snarled, “Rabstan, if your spawn is a blood traitor, I’ll cut her life like I did Sirius’s.”

Sirius froze at the information. He was going to die by Bellatrix’s hand? He had never doubted her ability or willingness to do it. Still, deep down, there was always a part of him that had hoped that his own family wouldn’t be able to actually do it.

“Pads,” James clutched onto Sirius’ shoulder tightly. James was more shaken at the news of Sirius’s death than he had been at his own.

“Finally,” Melania breathed a sigh of relief, “he was a disgrace to our legacy.”

“You truly are monsters,” Euphemia declared, staring Melania dead in the eyes, “and the only disgraces here are you and your horrible family. Killing people left and right, you are disgraces to wizardkind.”

“Don’t bother answering,” Arcturus told his wife looking down on Euphemia, “she’s not even worth your time.”

Euphemia crunched her face in disgust. The Blacks truly disgusted her.

“Well then,” Rodolphus crouched down beside his niece, his wand ready to curse, “what were you doing at that wedding?”

“Going to a wedding,” Layla answered, barely comprehending what was going on. She’d gotten multiple doses of cruciatus cursing and had just gotten the shock of her life. It wasn’t surprising that she was a little out of it.

“Why were you at that wedding?” Rodolphus rephrased the question, pointing the wand menacingly in her face, “how do you know the bride or groom?”

“Fleur and I went to school together,” Layla answered quickly, sparing no details, “and my mother’s relatives are half-Delacour. I grew up with her.”

“Seems like she was with the French portion of the wedding,” Narcissa quickly understood, “the Weasley boy married a French girl, Fleur Delacour. If I recall correctly, Andrea Greengrass was a Delancy before she married the late Lord Edgar. Her brother Damian married a woman named Antiope Delacour. The story checks out.”

“Your knowledge on the intricacies of pureblood heritage is impressive as always,” Lucius praised his wife, looking at her as if she hung the stars, “how do you even keep track of all of the marriages?”

“A lot of memorizing,” Narcissa answered, a soft, shy smile on her face. She always loved it when Lucius took note of her talents.

“Very well,” Rodolphus sheathed his wand, “looks like we don’t have to worry about her being in the Order of the Phoenix. The Order doesn't have any foreign members.”

“So what should we do with her now?” Bellatrix asked, before remembering why Layla had gotten captured in the first place, “and what about the dissolving ropes? We haven’t gotten to that yet.”

“Seeing as she is my child,” Rabastan spoke up, “we should have her moved to one of the guest bedrooms. It’s not like she has a wand, so we don’t need to be worried about her running off. We have all the time in the world now to bring her over to our side and ask about the ropes.”

“On that note,” Rodolphus interjects, “we ought to properly have her blood tested. While I trust your information and she certainly looks like you, it’d be best if we could have legitimate proof.”

“Very well,” Rabastan agrees to his brother’s terms, “seeing as you’re the better potioneer, why don’t you brew up the blood-testing potion? I’ll go speak to the Dark Lord about this whole situation.”

“Damn it,” Minerva cursed under her breath. The last thing that was good for that child was for her to be near the Dark Lord. She had so many powerful secrets; the Dark Lord could learn them from her.

“I’ll stay behind with the girl and bring her to a room,” Bellatrix grinned, “we’ll have some Auntie-Niece time.” Bellatrix turned to Layla, “Your name was Layla, correct?”

“Yes,” Layla answered quickly, “my name is Layla.”

“Then Layla here will be having some fun with me,” Belaltrix reassured the brothers. Layla did not feel the least bit excited about the whole arrangement. 

“I’ll leave her with you then,” Rodolphus nodded once at his wife, “enjoy yourself, Bella.”

“Come on,” Bellatrix grabbed Layla, pulling her up mercilessly, “follow me.”

“I hope she’ll be alright,” Lillian sniffed, having cried through the entirety of the torture and reveal.

“I hope so too,” Serena bit her lip, “it’s hard to watch.”

“It’ll all be over soon,” Clarene tried to comfort her younger siblings. She knew, however, that those were empty words. She couldn’t guarantee anything.

“I knew it was a bad idea!” Larissa cried out the minute Estelle and Freya arrived back, “I knew letting them go was a horrible idea.”

“Calm down,” Leopold grabbed Larissa by the shoulders, “we need to check in with Damian and Victor first. We need to get them to come back right away.”

Larissa didn’t need to hear any more. She slipped her communication device out of her pocket and immediately called Damian.

“Where are you?” Larissa demanded anxiously, unable to keep the panic out of her voice, “you need to get back now!”

“Calm down, Maman,” Damian’s voice responded, “you’re acting completely erratic.”

“I would assume so!” Larissa shouted back, “Damian, get Victor quickly and come back. Your sister was dueling with death eaters and I’m not even sure if she’s alive. I need you two to come home before you two get hurt as well.”

“She’s in a frenzy,” Molly sympathized, “not like I’d be much different if it were my child.”

“What happened to Layla?” Damian’s eyes widened, “How do you even know?”

“Your cousins just arrived via portkey,” Larissa answered swiftly, “they said Layla made it but had to let go to protect them. The last thing that they saw was her dueling death eaters. Seeing as she has yet to call me, I have to assume she’s either dead or captured. So for the sake of your poor mother, get yourselves back home.”

“I’ll get Victor right now,” Damian’s breath quickened as he presumably began running, “we’ll be home before you know it.”

“What are you going to do?” Freya asked her aunt once Damian had hung up.

“I don’t know,” Larissa shook her head, “and you two ought to contact your family back in England. You don’t want them to think that something happened to you.”

“I hope everyone’s okay,” Arthur shook his head, “it was our child’s wedding that got attacked. All the people were our guests and our responsibility.”

“Keep us updated, Auntie,” Estelle kissed her aunt’s cheek, “we’re ready to help as soon as you ask.” Her tear streaks were still wet on her cheeks, but she tried not to show it. She was terrified for Layla, terrified that the younger girl had given her life to save her and her sister’s.

“We’ll be sure to,” Leopold promised, guiding his wife to the couch, “you two go home. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Maman,” little Asher toddled over to his mother, “up, up.” Asher was a cute kid, ash-blonde with bright green eyes. He was too young to understand what was going on and simply wanted his mother.

“Come here,” Leopold picked his son up, “Maman needs a minute now, okay, Ash? How about you and I sit here with her, is that good?”

Asher nodded eagerly, snuggling close into his father. 

“He’s cute,” Clarene cooed, trying to distract herself from the darker events happening, “and he looks a lot like Leopold.”

“He does,” Lyra agreed, scrutinizing the child’s features carefully, “although I’m certain that that’s Larissa’s nose.”

“No,” Daniel argued, “that’s Leopold’s nose. Asher has Larissa’s hair line and jaw.”

“The kid isn’t even one yet,” Lyra shot back, “how are you even talking about hairlines and jaws?”

“Because I see it,” Daniel responded hotly, “I’m just saying what I see.”

Lyra grumbled under her breath. Her brother just always had to be confrontational. 

“I’m going to England,” Larissa decided after a few minutes, turning to her husband, “I’ve let this fester far too long.” Leopold stated at his wife in shock.

“That’s not safe,” Leopold protested, “why jump straight into the frying pan?”

“Because I know my Layla,” Larissa said firmly, “and I know that, if she’s alive, she’ll be coming home soon. I gave her the power of the heavens; she’ll be able to escape in no time. Wards and binds cannot hold her back; she’ll be back before we know it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Layla escaped either,” Leopold agreed, “but why do you have to go to England?”

“To take care of that megalomaniac,” Larissa declared firmly, “I know the death eaters. If they captured my daughter, she’s bound to have been tortured. We have a lot of powerful secrets, so I won’t be surprised if some of them were discovered. Even more so, if she escapes, they’ll be hunting her down. The only way to ensure the safety of our family is to take action.”

“She’s not wrong,” Moody sighed, “the death eaters do chase people to other countries, though not as often as they do people in the country. Lestrange would definitely try and find his child, no doubt about it.”

“I just hope young Rabastan doesn’t learn of the other two,” Dumbledore shook his head mournfully, his old age showing. He’d lived through two mad, power-hungry dark lords. The painful stories that came with war haunted him.

“I can tell there’s no convincing you otherwise,” Leopold shakes his head, “what do you have planned?”

“I’m going to cut off the war’s source,” Larissa answered, standing up, “remember the topic we spoke about once we learnt that the Dark Lord was back?”

“I believe so,” Leopold’s face darkened, before turning to her reprovingly, “you’re going to hunt them down.”

“Albus Dumbledore assured me that two of them have already been destroyed,” Larissa informed her husband gravely, “and he’s sent Harry Potter on a near suicide mission to find the rest. I plan to offer the poor lad some assistance. Hopefully, I’ll be able to track them all down once I get my hands on him. The kid needs an actual functioning adult around if he wants his hunt to actually succeed. I intend to make sure that hunt succeeds. Harry Potter’s hunt will prevail and achieve its goal if it’s the last thing I do. ”

Chapter Text

“She’s going to help Harry,” Lily breathed a sigh of relief, “she’s strong. She’ll keep him safe.”

“And hopefully they’ll kick You-Know-Who’s ass,” Marlene nudged Lily playfully.

“I just hope they’ll all be okay,” Remus sighed, “and not get involved with overly risky behavior.”

“Keep a close eye,” Dumbledore whispered to Minerva, “we’ll need this information for when we return.”

“As much as I don’t want you to go,” Leopold said after a few moments of silence, “I can’t stop you.” He grabbed her hand, taking it in his. “Just promise me that you’ll stay alive. Promise me that you’ll come back. Promise me that our son won’t be an orphan.”

“I promise,” Larissa swore, her eyes fierce with determination, “I’m going to start packing. I’ll leave as soon as the boys return. Make sure they stay safe and in school while I’m gone. I plan to cast a fidelius charm on the boys’ identities. That should keep anyone from telling the death eaters who they are.”

“Are you sure you’re not being a little paranoid?” Leopold called out as his wife bounded up the stairs. 

“I’m not being paranoid,” Larissa disagreed, “I’m being cautious. There’s a stark difference.”

“How certain are you that we can hold your child?” Rodolphus asked his younger brother, clearly worried that Layla would escape.

“I don’t think we can,” Rabastan responded bluntly. “The us of the future don’t know a single thing about Layla. She can use wandless magic, has an animagus form for disguise, and isn’t restricted by binds and wards. Once she has a minute to breathe and gather her magic, I’m sure she’ll be gone. I can’t even blame our future selves for underestimating her; it would be ridiculous to presume Layla was capable of much of anything once her wand was gone.”

“Let’s hope she escapes before the Dark Lord is informed,” Rodolphus trembled slightly, “I don’t want to experience his wrath.” 

Rodolphus was sort of happy to hear that the triplets were his brother’s children. Although his brother hadn’t procreated in a very pureblood-like manner, he’d still procreated. He could carry on the family name where Rodolphus couldn’t. Rabastan had never quite fit the model of a typical pureblood anyhow. He was fanatically loyal to their cause, but he’d always been a mischievous one. Rodolphus knew that deep down, Rabastan would far prefer to spend his days living his life, trying to get a rise out of all the people around him. However, the war their lord had called for came first. Once the muggles and mudbloods were gone, Rabastan would have all the time he could want to indulge in his playful side. Sure, Larissa Greengrass’s apparent involvement in the second war was concerning, he’d seen her immense power, but Rodolphus had full faith in the Dark Lord. He was immensely powerful as well, far more than Larissa Greengrass could dream of.

August 3rd, 1997.

“I want to come with,” Victor insisted as his mother prepared to leave two days later, his sunken cheeks and dark eyebags showing the lack of sleep he’d had since he’d heard what happened to his sister. “I won’t let you go off on your own, Maman.”

“I am far more capable than you are,” Larissa sighed. When Damian and Victor returned and found out that she’d planned to go hunting, they’d insisted on joining her. It’s not that Larissa wasn’t sure of their talents, they were very capable. She simply didn’t want her children in harm’s way when they didn’t need to be. 

“You are literally planning on going with Harry Potter,” Victor gave her a deadpanned look, “are you saying the children you’ve personally instructed are less skilled than Harry Potter?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Larissa explained calmly, “Harry Potter doesn’t get to choose whether or not he fights. He is, unfortunately, fated in this war. There are things that drag him unwillingly into the heart of this battle. There are things that bind him to the fate of this war that are far too taboo for me to dare say with my mouth. I wish that that child wouldn’t be involved, but there is nothing I can do about that. I will not be the mother that recklessly and needlessly drags her children into a battlefield. I will call you hopefully at least once a week. Please study hard. When Layla returns, I beg that you take care of her physically and emotionally.”

“What the hell is this?” Euphemia Potter’s eyes flashed in rage, “Why is my grandchild being dragged into war? What is this thing that ties my grandson into this mess?”

“Prophecy,” Elena Prewett gasped, causing all eyes to turn to her, “he’s a child of prophecy. There’s no other logical explanation for this.”

“Why do you feel so?” Dumbledore asked Elena, a gleam in his eyes. Elena had been a Shafiq before marriage. The Shafiqs were well-known for having connections to the inner eye. 

“Why else would He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named chase after a child?” Elena explained, “Ms. Larissa says that Harry Potter’s fate is entwined with the war. She is very clear that there is no bargaining Harry Potter’s role in the war. Why else would he of all people, a mere child, be kidnapped in order to participate in the resurrection of the darkest wizard to ever live? The only reason that a nearly all powerful man like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would ever personally bother with a mere child is that he knows of something higher connecting the two.”

“That makes an unfortunate amount of sense,” Lucinda Malfoy scowls. She was not pleased to be agreeing with a blood traitor of all people.

“So what we have established so far,” Peter recounts with the other marauders, “is that James and Lily were killed personally by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Somehow, Harry survived the killing curse. He went to Hogwarts and in his fourth year, was forced into the Triwizard tournament. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was then resurrected and the world didn’t believe it. However, eventually the world did believe Harry, as Greengass said that they were then out in the open. However, Greengrass now wants to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Additionally, there seems to have been some prophecy regarding Harry and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as the dark lord personally chose to try and kill him. Did I miss anything?”

“There’s something that Greengrass needs to find that Harry can direct her to,” Sirius adds to Peter’s recap, “something that she calls taboo.”

“It’s also something that she and Dumbeldore clearly spoke of,” Remus furthered the conversation, “as well as something that Dumbeldore, who certainly would have been the one to tell Larissa about any potential prophecy, sent Harry, the one tied in the prophecy, to find.”

“It looks that Dumbledore may have been preparing for Greengrass to take action,” James pointed out, “why else would he divulge such secrets to someone so clearly out of loop with the war? From her quick decision to get involved, I’d assume that he wasn’t able to convince her earlier. She was clearly aware of the entire picture. It was only her family being dragged in that convinced her to act on her information.”

“I’m glad to see you boys thinking critically,” Fleamont praised his sons and their friends, “in these dark times, the ability to keep track of information and pick up clues is vital to surviving.”

“You may be right on that,” Damian interjected, “but we’ve also been dragged into this war. Those damned death eaters hurt and captured our sister. How are we supposed to just let this sit?”

“It’s more important that you two stay safe,” Larissa disagreed, “if Layla, your talented sister, was able to be overpowered, then so can you. I refuse to put you in any more danger than you are already in. If you truly want to help, you can do so by staying in school and keeping your ears open for me. You’ll be more helpful as a support from afar. Please. I don’t want to leave with all of us fighting. Especially as I’m about to plunge myself into a war.”

“How am I supposed to just sit here and twiddle my thumbs when my sister is suffering in captivity?!” Damian shouted, the jade eyes that matched his mother and sister’s filling with fury. “My little sister, Maman, my little sister! How can I rest when I have the opportunity to help her, to avenge her capture, at my fingertips?”

Larissa jostled in shock. Never had her eldest child yelled at her like this. They’d fought before, as all parents and children do, but they had never exchanged blows like this. Victor, Layla, sure, but never Damian. 

“I think you need to take a breather,” Leopold tried intervening. He was just as shocked as his wife at Damian’s outburst.

“Mix out!” Victor growled at his step-father, “This is between us and our mother. You have no right to intervene.”

“This is the price of war,” Antiope sighed sadly. When tensions rose, cutthroat words tended to follow. The regret that followed them was always the most painful kind.

“Do not speak to him like that,” Larissa scolded her son, “I understand that the two of you are angry with me, but under no circumstances are you to take that anger out on your step-father. Leopold only wants to keep the peace.”

“Whatever,” Victor said dismissively, too consumed in his anger to even consider apologizing.

“Promise me one thing, Maman,” Damian finally spoke again. The rage that had consumed him was gone from his eyes. Instead, his eyes reflected the firm, solid determination that was in Larissa’s own. “Promise me that you will call if you need help. Promise me that you will let us help if you need it. We’ll wait here as you said if you can promise me that one thing.”

Larissa contemplated Damian’s words for a long while. Leopold glanced back and forth between his wife and step-children, trying to stay calm. Victor was breathing heavily, trying to calm his anger. Damian just stared steadfastly at his mother, his position solid as rock.

“I will,” Larissa finally, begrudgingly agreed, “but that’s only if you keep your end of the bargain. Stay productive, stay in school. If Leopold tells me that you’re doing that, I will call you in my time of need.”

“I hope that never happens,” Lyra decides, “I don’t want to see those kids on a battlefield. Layla’s torture was enough for me. I never want to see such a thing again.”

“I agree,” Daniel, surprisingly, is in sync with his sister, “I never want to hear screams again.”

“Is the world ending?” Gloria Greengrass whispered to her brother Edmund, “I think I just heard Lyra and Daniel agree with each other.”

“You must have misunderstood,” Edmund whispered back, “that would never happen.”

“You’re probably right,” Gloria agrees, “those two are like fire and water. “

“Then come home safe,” Damian hugs his mother tightly, praying that he’d be able to hug her again, “I want to fly with you again soon. I love you so much, Maman.”

“We will,” Larissa promises, “we will soon soar above a free, blue sky, one that isn’t darkened by war.”

“I love you,” Victor tells his mother as it’s his turn to bid his mother farewell, “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“You’re forgiven,” Larissa whispers into his hair, “but apologize to Leopold please. He doesn’t deserve your ire.”

“I will,” Victor says, “I’ll apologize.”

Once Victor was done, Larissa turned to her husband. Leopold gave her a sad smile, one that reflected all his grievances with her decision. He was worried about Asher, terrified that he’d have to raise him alone. He, of course, hadn't wanted her to go, but he understood that this was something she had to do. She had to tie all the loose ends of her past. 

“Look after them,” Larissa finally spoke, breaking the silence between them, “and look after yourself.”

Moody sighed. He’d seen many of these interactions between husbands and wives before. His office was often flooded with spouses, spouses desperate to speak to their partner before they went off on a mission. Moody always hated watching them, knowing that he couldn’t ensure every couple would end up back together at the end.

The worst part was having to break the news to a widow or widower. The looks of heartbreak and pain always tugged at his heart. He couldn;t bear to see the looks of pain as a husband or wife was told their partner would never come home. It was worse when there were children. The sight of a crying child had always been one of his greatest weaknesses. 

He could send others to tell his aurors’ partners of their deaths. He could always delegate the painful task to another, yet he never did. He felt he owed it to his aurors, as their commander, to tell their lovers the news himself. It was one of his very few sentimental feelings. 

“Come home,” Leopold kissed his wife, trying to express every emotion that he felt, “you have to.”

“I will,” Larissa said determinedly, “when I do, we’ll have a party with the whole family. We’ll laugh and cry and sing and dance. I promise you, Leopold.”

“Then go,” Leopold subtly wiped his tears on his sleeve, “we’ll be praying for you.”

Larissa took a deep breath and grabbed her portkey. With a mumbled spell, she disappeared.

“Looks like the real story is finally starting,” Arcturus Black stroked his beard, “this is the real reason we were brought here.”

“We will learn how to win,” Melania nodded, “the reign of purebloods is in the air, I can feel it.”

Regulus scoffed to himself. What exactly could his grandmother possibly be feeling? The tone of these visions clearly seems to support a victory for Larissa Greengrass. Was she incapable of proper comprehension?

“Tell me little niecy,” Bellatrix asked as she dragged Layla, “where did you learn to duel like you did at that wedding? I couldn’t duel like that when I was your age.”

“School,” Layla answered with dead eyes, “I had a good professeur.”

“I see,” Bellatrix hummed, “perhaps I should have gone to Beauxbatons then.” She paused, before cackling madly, “Never mind that. They’re too formal and elegant there. I wouldn’t have fit in very well.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Layla decided to try and figure out where she was and who she was talking to.

“You certainly can,” Bellatrix smirked, “the question is whether or not I'll answer it.”

“As insufferable as always,” Lucius scowled at having to watch Bellatrix. He’d never liked his wife’s sister.

“What was that Lucius?” Bellatrix asked in her sing-song voice. Lucius stilled. When Bellatrix spoke like that, she was not to be messed with.

“Nothing, Bellatrix,” Lucius said, aiming to sound as calm as possible, “perhaps you heard someone else in this room.”

“Perhaps,” Bellatrix stared at him knowingly with her harsh, silver eyes. She knew that she didn’t actually have to do anything to get him back in line. She knew that he was terrified of her.

“Who even are you?” Layla blurted out, “And why did you attack a random person’s wedding?”

Bellatrix paused, not having expected those questions.

“I guess you really aren’t with them,” she mused to herself, “any one of them would have known who I was.” She then answered Layla. “I am Bellatrix Lestrange. Your father’s name is Rabastan Lestrange and my husband, your uncle, is Rodolphus Lestrange. We are death eaters and serve under the Dark Lord. We attacked the wedding in order to try and find information on Harry Potter’s whereabouts.”

“Why would Potter even be there?” Layla asked, trying to play up the image of someone completely unaware of the affairs of Great Britain. “He’s not a Weasley.”

“He’s friends with one,” Bellatrix answered. She was pleased that her newly found niece didn’t seem to know much of what was going on. It only further confirmed that she was really going to a wedding, not working with the Order of the Phoenix. 

Bellatrix thought that she might enjoy having a niece, especially one as talented as Layla. Narcissa never wanted to duel her, only wanting to gossip over tea. Bellatrix occasionally indulged her sister, but it wasn’t something she enjoyed. However, her new niece seemed skilled enough. Perhaps she’d be willing to duel. 

Leanne was nervous over Bellatrix Lestrange’s expression. She knew the death eater was incredibly dangerous. It was concerning to see her so interested in her future niece.

“Oh,” Layla responded quietly. As the pair walked, there wasn’t much to say. Layla’s whole body ached from the pain of the cruciatus. Her magic was working hard to keep her stable. If Bellatrix tried anything, Layla wasn’t certain she’d be able to fight back.

“Here,” Bellatrix entered a bedroom. It was richly decorated, with fine wallpaper coating the walls. The bed was large, with deep green blankets and silver pillows neatly arranged at the head of the bed. There was an ornate chandelier hanging, shimmering candles nestled in its gold branches. There was a closet door at one end, beside it another door that likely led to a bathroom. “You’ll stay here for now. We’ll come see you when we decide what to do with you.”

Layla just nodded despondently. Once Bellatrix left, she immediately collapsed on the bed. She’d need at least two days to regain all the magic she’d need to make a portkey with wandless magic. She’d have to be careful to conserve her energy.

“I’m going to get out of here,” she declared to the empty room, “and then all hell will break loose. Maman is certainly on the chase. She won’t let this go.”

Chapter Text

“That’s certainly an understatement,” Rudolph Lestrange huffed under his breath, “that mother of hers is planning something bigger than that child can even think.”

August 7th, 1997.

The scene switches to a room where Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger are sitting on the floor with sleeping bags. Suddenly, they hear the presence of another person.

“Homenium revelio,” Hermione casts quickly, the spell flashing from her wand. She looked at her two friends, a look of worry and fear in her eyes, “Someone’s there.”

“Let’s ambush whomever it is,” Harry whispered, motioning for his friends to follow him, “we have the upper hand right now.”

“Seems empty,” they heard a woman’s voice musing aloud. The trio remained perfectly silent, listening to the sound of the woman’s pitter-pattering footsteps. “Did Albus give me the wrong address?” The woman paused before continuing, “No, this place is definitely under fidelius, so it’s nearly certain I made it to the right place. Maybe Potter didn’t escape here.”

“She’s looking for you,” Ron mouthed, not wanting to make any noise.

“What a huge misunderstanding,” Lyra shook her head, “hopefully it won’t result in violence.”

“She mentioned Dumbledore giving her this address,” Harry straightened, heading toward the voice, “I’m going to see who it is.”

“Are you mad?” Hermione grabbed him, “For all we know she’s someone who means us harm. We’re better off letting her leave.”

“Yeah, Harry,” Ron agreed with Hermione, “we can’t just trust anyone who mentions Dumbledore’s name. The death eaters can use it to trick us.”

“I know,” Harry responds, “but to get inside this house, you need to have been told the secret by Dumbledore. That’s how the fidelius charm world, right? So likely, this is someone that we can trust, at least for now.”

“Why does that house seem so familiar?” Sirius tilted his head, before shrugging it off. If it was important, then the visions would show it.

“I guess you’re right,” Hermione agreed, though she still seemed nervous. The three of them slowly walked towards the voice, wands at the ready. 

“Mrs. Arquette?” Harry blurted out the moment he saw her, “What are you doing here?”

“Perfect,” Larissa clapped her hands upon seeing Harry, “I thought that I’d have to search the whole countryside to find you. Thank Merlin that Albus gave me this address. Otherwise, I would not be having much fun here.”

“What are you doing here?” Ron pointed his wand directly at Larissa, not giving in an inch, “How did you know Harry would be here?”

“An assumption,” Larissa shrugged, “it’s the only safe base of operations you’d know of. After all, the Order of the Phoenix operated out of here.”

“That organization still exists?” Bellatrix sneered, “I will put an end to it as soon as we are freed from here. All opposition to the Dark Lord must be snuffed.”

“Agreed,” Rabastan said, slinging an arm around Bellatrix’s shoulder, “we’ll take care of that together, won't we Bella?”

“Of course,” Bellatrix replied, “and Rodo can join if he’s willing to leave his lab to help. Unlikely though. He’s always too busy to come on raids with us.”

“You’d be dead if I wasn’t brewing healing potions though,” Rodolphus countered, “my job is just as important, Bella.”

“Whatever,” Bellatrix rolled her eyes, “Rabastan and I will just go together.”

“So you’re a member of the Order,” Hermione breathed a slight sigh of relief, still wary of the dark haired woman before her.

“No,” Larissa shook her head, “I was not. I was simply a colleague of your late professor. I had contacted him about something dangerous I had realized and we corresponded heavily until his untimely death.”

“Dumbledore dies?” Shocked faces spread across the room. With Albus Dumbledore gone, there was no one to stop the Dark Lord.

“Finally,” Arcturus Black smirked, “that’s a death that should have happened decades ago.”

“The Dark Lord is certain to win now,” Melania’s face brightened considerably, ecstatic at the news.

“We’ll have to carry on without you, then,” Moody told Dumbledore gruffly, “you certainly left us with a heavy task.”

“My apologies, old friend,” Albus shook his head mournfully, “I cannot control the forces of death, no matter how much I wish I could.”

An uneasy atmosphere remained in the room, its hostages either ecstatic or terrified with the new information.

“What was this thing?” Harry asked carefully, trying to gain as much information as possible.

“I’m certain you’re familiar with them,” Larissa replied with a knowing look in her eyes, “after all, hasn’t Albus tasked you with locating them?”

The trio froze, not having expected that reply. Still, it might have been a trick, an attempt to get them to reveal what they were doing. They weren’t going to fall for it.

“I hope you didn’t assume we’d tell you after that lackluster confession,” Hermione glared at Larissa, “we aren’t stupid. We’re going to need more than that to trust you.”

“Good girl,” Larissa praised, happy that the trio was on their toes, especially with the people coming after them. “You’re right, I should have just flat out told you. Still, the subject is an incredibly taboo piece of dark magic, so as an expert in these sorts of esoteric magics, it’s normal for me to avoid saying them by name.”

“Well then,” Ron barked impatiently, “get a move on. We don’t have time for this, Harry. We should just kick her out.”

“Horcruxes,” Larissa announced, her jade eyes hardening, “Albus Dumbledore has entrusted the task of tracking down the Dark Lord’s horcruxes to you. This is due to the nature of the prophecy between Harry and the Dark Lord. With a direct portal into the Dark Lord’s mind, Albus was certain that only you would be able to find all the horcruxes.”

“She said it,” Horace’s eyes shook at the confession, his greatest shame returning. “He really did it.”

“Tom,” Dumbledore sighed, feeling incredibly sad of how far his erstwhile student had fallen.

“The Dark Lord made a horcrux?” Rodolphus gasped, his faith absolutely shaken. Among the others in the room, he was likely one of the few aware of this concept. Rodolphus couldn’t believe his ears; his Lord had done such an abominable deed? 

“He can’t have,” Regulus muttered to himself, horrified, “that is beyond taboo and unforgivable. Even the darkest of dark wizards haven’t gone that far.”

“What is a horcrux?” Antiope asked, directing her words to Albus Dumbledore, “Please share with the class. We’re all stuck here and confused.”

Dumbledore sighed, seeing Antiope’s point. They all were likely to find out anyway. May as well clear up the confusion now.

“A horcrux is a sickening piece of dark magic,” he explained to the curious eyes looking at him for answers. Even Rudolph Lestrange, Cygnus Black, Lucinda Malfoy, and their families trained their eyes on him. Most of them didn’t understand either. “By the hands of a ritual and cold-blooded murder, a person can extract a piece of his soul and bind it to a container. This, in theory, should allow for immortality. Still, it is a taboo and despised technique that strips the user of any and all humanity. It is frowned upon by even the darkest of dark wizards.”

“The Dark Lord made that,” Narcissa gagged, horrified at the information. She turned to her husband anxiously, “Lucius, perhaps we ought to remain neutral now. I don’t believe it worthwhile to follow such a madman. We can return the pureblood way of life to the world another time, a time where the leader isn’t messing with forbidden magics.”

“I see your point,” Lucius’s face had turned pale in fear. Who would’ve thought that their “noble” lord was doing such things? He hadn’t stopped believing in the cause, those of pureblood should still regain their superior status, but he was starting to lose faith in the leader. What lows would he stoop to next, killing them?

All around the room, people digested this horrifying information. First, they had learnt that Albus Dumbledore had died, something that would leave a vacuum of power ripe for Voldemort to take. Now, they had learnt that this Dark Lord had taken drastic, diabolical steps to preserve his life, steps frowned upon even by his followers. Worst of all, he was immortal, leaving him impossible to terminate as a threat.

“This is what my son is up against?” Lily sobbed, burying her head in her hands. How would her poor child beat such a thing?

Marlene and Mary didn’t know how to comfort their friend. What were they supposed to say in such dire circumstances? Their friend was realizing the horrifying conditions her future child was in. What was there to say to that?

Suddenly, Lily felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, Euphemia Potter’s kind face was looking down at her. 

“It’s alright, dear,” Euphemia soothed the mother of her grandchild, “Harry will overcome it. He has the blood of a Potter running through his veins.” Euphemia paused, old age shining through her eyes, “And trust me dear, Potters can withstand the pressures of this world.”

On the other end of the room, James was surrounded by his own friends, each of them concerned for Harry. 

“He’ll be fine, Prongs,” Peter tried cheering his friend up, “Harry has that Greengrass girl helping him. She seems to know what’s going on. I’m sure that it’ll be fine.”

“Wormtail's right,” Remus tried his hand, “Larissa will be there with Harry. We’ve already seen that she’s powerful. Besides, she has the goddess supporting her. I’m sure Harry will win.”

James didn’t respond to any of his friends. He just sat, still and silent, his head on Sirius’s shoulder. The latter was silent as well, supporting James the way he knew that James needed at that moment. 

“You know?” The trio were dumbfounded at another person being aware. They had thought that Dumbledore had trusted them alone.

“I’ve known for a while,” Larissa sighed, guilt written all over her face, “Albus had tried to get me to help him a while ago. I refused his requests; I couldn’t come back to this country to fight, not with my family finally safe and complete. I lost too much the first time to do it again. Right before his death, he asked me to assist you in your journey. I once again refused.”

“Then why are you here?” Ron asked bluntly, ignoring the sharp nudge from Hermione.

“Those monstres stole my child!” Larissa’s eyes flashed with fury, “My Layla has been missing ever since that godforsaken wedding!” Larissa’s anger is evident in her expressions and words. “I told them it wasn’t safe. But they went anyway, and now my child is gone.”

“What happened to the other-” Hermione tried asking, but found herself unable to continue. She tried again, “What happened to your s-”. She got cut off once more.

“The fidelius charm is expertly done,” Flitwick observed, “sure, people may know that her sons exist, but they are unable to tell anyone about it. This includes Layla. No matter what, no one else can inform the Lestranges or the Dark Lord that there are more children.”

“Fidelius charm,” Larissa explained at Hermione’s panicked look, “I’m the only secret keeper. You may know the secret, but seeing as I haven’t told it to you, you cannot voice it or write it. Additionally, should you be captured, it is unable to be compelled out of you, nor is it able to be seen via legilimency. With one child captured, I am unwilling to lose another.”

“Oh,” Hermione relaxed, satisfied. She still had a look of concern on her face, likely envisioning what was happening to Layla.

“I’m sorry about Layla,” Harry apologized, knowing that it was because of him the wedding was raided, “I saw her at the wedding. She was somehow able to see through my disguise.”

“Not surprised in the slightest,” Larissa chuckled wetly, her concern for her daughter still evident, “back on track, Layla’s kidnapping made me realize that I cannot hide from my past any longer. I need to use all my resources to end the megalomaniac that has captured my child. Hence, I intend to assist you on your journey.”

“So she’s going to cut off his life source,” Gideon Prewett instantly realized, “that’s what she’s hunting. She’s hunting down his ties to the world.”

“You didn’t realize that earlier?” Fabian raised an eyebrow at his brother, “I would have thought you’d have noticed that quicker.”

“Shut up!” Gideon flushed red, his brother laughing at his embarrassment. The twins truly did love poking fun at each other.

“Absolutely not,” Harry refused, “you have a family. We can’t drag you with us on this suicidal mission.”

“Harry,” Hermione begged, eyes desperate, “we really could use her help. She knows all about magic and horcruxes. We’re stumbling around like baboons doing nothing. Besides, Dumbledore personally asked her to come with us. Why are you denying us the help we desperately need?”

“I told Remus the same thing,” Harry narrowed his eyes, “parents should be with their children. You can’t leave your children to protect me. I won’t have it.”

“Congratulations,” Sirius whispers to Remus, not wanting to make an overly big deal during a very tense scene.

“Thanks,” Remus choked. How had he dared to give another child his affliction? What was going on in the future?

“Well you’re not getting a choice here,” Larissa informed Harry, “my daughter is going to be on the run after she inevitably escapes. I need to end this threat to her life as soon as possible. I once lived on the run from the death eaters; I will not have that happen to my child. This whole mission is to protect my children, not to run away from them.”

“If I might ask,” Hermione voiced hesitantly, “why were you hunted by the death eaters? Did they try to recruit you because you were Nicholas Flamel’s student?”

“No,” Larissa shook her head, memories flashing, “it happened a bit before I met Nicholas. They chased me for getting pregnant out of wedlock. I came from a pureblood family; they named me a blood traitor for it.”

“Those damned people,” Ron cursed, knowing how those circles treated women like Larissa, “you were disowned, weren’t you?”

“I was,” Larissa nodded, “but that’s irrelevant to the task at hand. What sort of information have you all gotten? Last I remember, Albus told me he was taking Harry here to retrieve a horcrux from a cave of inferi.”

“Why would he take the Potter boy?” Silas pondered, “I can’t imagine he was particularly helpful as a mere sixth year.”

“Who knows?” Gloria shrugged, “We all know Dumbledore isn’t all there in the head. There’s no use in questioning his actions.”

Silas shrugged. His sister was right; there was no use trying to understand Albus Dumbledore.

“We got the locket,” Harry informed Larissa, seemingly resigned to the fact that she was getting involved, “but it was a fake.”

“A fake?” Larissa’s face froze, “How could that possibly be? Albus and I were very meticulous in pinpointing the locations. Why would the Dark Lord put a fake locket there?”

“It wasn’t him,” Harry elaborated, “it was a man called R.A.B. Until a few days ago, we didn’t even know who he was.”

“R.A.B.” A few people began putting the pieces together.

“Well?” Larissa raised an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to finish telling her.

“His name was Regulus Black,” Harry continued, “he was my godfather’s younger brother. We learnt the whole story from his house elf, Kreacher. Apparently, the Dark Lord used Kreacher to test the defences around the cave of inferi. In the process, Kreacher was badly injured. Regulus became furious and chose to give up his life in order to retrieve the horcrux. He ordered Kreacher to destroy it. He just didn’t know there were more of them.”

Angry eyes turned to the youngest child of House Black. Regulus himself was shocked, not having expected that from any version of himself.

“Hah,” Abraxas laughed, eyes still filled with fury, “it seems that the House of Black has only given rise to blood traitors. Half of their children have gone against the Dark Lord.”

“Who wouldn’t after hearing about his crime?” Arcturus came to the defense of his grandson, shocking the others in the room, “To create a horcrux is to lose all of your respect. There will be another opportunity to bring back our traditions. My family will no longer follow a man who sees it fit to commit such despicable crimes against magic.”

“Father is right,” Orion scowled, “Walburga, when this is all over, we will have to ensure that we leave no ties left to this madman. One who creates a horcrux does not deserve our respect and following.”

“How dare you?” Bellatrix rose from her seat, pointing her dangerous wand in the direction of her elders, “You dare to defy the will of our lord for something as miniscule as that? The creation of this… horcrux only serves to make him more worthy of respect!” With that, Bellatrix sent a flying curse from her wand. The aurors in the room rushed to stop it, but it was too late. The spell was inching too close to Regulus’s face for them to stop.

Before the curse could hit, a glowing chalice appeared in front of Regulus, wrapping him in it protectively. Bellatrix’s spell instantly dissipated, the magic falling apart as it approached the goddess’s symbol.

“No violence is allowed,” her voice rang through the room, “next time someone chooses that path, I will forcibly strip away their magic. Do not test me, children.”

Silence pervades the room, no one else willing to speak. The threat in the goddess’s voice seemed very real.

“I see,” Larissa closed her eyes, massaging her temple, “alright then, have you been able to figure out what happened to the locket afterwards?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered, “it was stolen from this house by a less than reputable member of the order. Why Dumbledore ever had Mundungus join is beyond me.”

“So we simply must find this Mundungus fellow,” Larissa clapped her hands together, “sounds simple enough. I’ve tracked many things before.”

“We already know where the locket is,” Hermione quickly corrects herself, “Kreacher brought Mundungus here two days ago and we interrogated him. A ministry worker, rather high-ranking, named Dolores Umbridge has the locket. Mundungus bribed her with it.”

“Then we’ll simply break into her home and retrieve it,” Larissa turned her hands in circles, making it seem as if that were obvious, “Worst case scenario, we break into the ministry.” Larissa smirked slightly at the looks of shock the trio gave her. She was right; they needed her help.

“She is really nonchalant about that,” Larissa commented quietly about her future self, “I think it’s startling those children.”

“You’re not wrong,” Leanne agreed just as quietly, “your future self is very different, Rissa.”

“As is yours,” Larissa reminded her sister, who simply nodded in agreement. Her future self was very different from her current self.

Chapter Text

August 2nd, 1997.

“Well hello there,” a deep voice greeted Layla as she quickly arose from her slumber. She’d fallen asleep, her magic anxious to replenish itself. Still, the moment another person walked into the room, her eyes shot open. When her eyes readjusted to the light, she was taken aback. For a moment, she thought that Damian was in front of her. However, she quickly noticed the lack of glasses, jade eyes, and freckles. She then remembered where she was: captured.

“Hello,” Layla replied, eyes narrowed. She didn’t trust this man, not one little bit. 

“It seems that you woke up faster than I thought you would,” the man commented, twirling a small knife, “that makes my work just a tad more difficult.”

Layla froze, gathering her magic up for a fight. She might be exhausted, but she would fight back if she needed to.

“What the hell do you want from me?” She demanded, inching away from the red haired man before her. 

“Calm down,” the man said placatingly, placing down the knife, “I mean no harm to you. You are my brother’s daughter; I will not do anything to you.”

“You are horrendous with children,” Elladora told her son bluntly. 

“Sorry Mother,” Rodolphus apologized confusedly. He didn’t quite have a more appropriate response to such a statement.

“I don’t care,” Layla hissed, continuing to back off. As an animagus, she had high levels of instinct, all of which told her to back away from this man. 

“I really don’t want to use force,” the man stood calmly, reaching for his wand, “if you’d just cooperate, we can get this over with quickly. I simply need some of your blood in order to confirm your paternity as fact.”

Layla considered her options. One way or another, this man was getting her blood. She was too weak at the moment to fight back. She could either fight back and get hurt or give in and stay safe. The problem is, she didn’t want to give into this man. She felt that she needed to retain her independence as a person, or she’d become more susceptible to manipulation. Resisting, as well as testing the boundaries, was in her best cards right now.

“I’ll give you the blood,” Layla decided, extending her hand, “hand me the knife.”

“Very well,” the man placed the knife on the bed, waiting for Layla to take it. Layla slowly moved forward, grabbing the knife with her own hand. She took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and cut her leg. She winced in pain, keeping any screams she may have wanted to shout quiet. She handed the knife, dripping with her blood, to the man who claimed to be her uncle. As he turned around to drip the blood in a vial, Layla carefully peeked at her arms. They were glowing bright white. She’d purposely avoided cutting her arms, concerned that the man would see the light.

“Ms. Greengrass truly grows into an incredible witch,” Dumbledore looks at the vision admiringly. The girl had truly blossomed under his friend’s teachings, becoming a witch that could possibly rival him and Tom. In battle, Dumbledore wasn’t foolish enough to believe Ms. Greengrass stood a chance. She had said it herself; her battle prowess wasn’t very good. Still, in terms of esoteric knowledge, practical magic, creative brilliance, and magical achievements, Ms. Greengrass had far surpassed him and Tom. It was incredible to see the things that she could do.

“Alright then,” her uncle addressed her directly, “that should take care of that. I’ll be going to test this now. Bellatrix, my wife, will come to see you in about an hour. She said she was interested in having a duel with you, so I assume she’ll be doing that after she gives you something to eat. Please sit tight until then. Your father is on a mission right now. He has yet to speak with the Dark Lord about you; he hasn’t had enough time to get there yet.” With that, her uncle left the room. 

Layla absorbed the information she just received. She only had about an hour until this Bellatrix woman would be coming to duel her. Having a duel would likely sap up most of the energy in her reserves. Additionally, it was vital that she escaped before the Dark Lord was told about her existence. If she was gone, perhaps these new relatives of hers would be unwilling to tell the Dark Lord that she existed at all, due to her having been able to escape them.

Layla looked down at her leg. Yellow light was glowing, slowly healing her wounds. 

“What the hell did you do, Maman?” Layla whispered to herself, “What kind of sorcery is this?” 

“It can heal as well?” Clarene couldn’t believe her eyes. Had she not witnessed a goddess with her own eyes, she would have never believed there was power like this in the world. Had Nicholas Flamel truly been hiding this away for years?

Layla took a deep breath. Her mother had told her that the stone would shatter all wards that tried to trap her. Seeing the glowing light and that ropes hadn’t been able to bind her during her duel, her mother was probably right. She had one last chance to escape before everything fell down. She’d have to time this down to the very last minute. 

Closing her eyes, Layla began to meditate. She felt for the magic in her veins, measuring its amount. She calculated that, if she waited about forty-five more minutes, she’d be just about strong enough to power a portkey. She was pressed for time, however, so she’d have to be quick about it. She’d also be completely depleted after she powered this portkey, so she had to determine a safe location to teleport to. Home wasn’t an option, especially considering she’d spilled the beans on who her mother was. 

Layla came to a decision. She’d teleport to the only safe haven she knew of: her grandparents’ old home. Still, this was a desperate situation. She barely had the strength to make it back home. If she got caught while she was trying, it could spell the end of her. 

“Hello Niecy!” Bellatrix stormed in, interrupting her meditation. Layla bolted, snapping to attention near instantaneously. She squared her shoulders, ready for a fight, arms outstretched and ready to use wandless magic. Her plans for escape had been shattered. 

“Seems that whatever she was planning has failed,” Bellatrix smirked, glad that they, despite the odds, seemed to be capable of containing the child. 

“Doesn’t mean she won’t try again,” Rodolphus sighed. He was growing exhausted with all the complications that these visions were bringing into his life. 

“You’re certainly alert,” Bellatrix eyed Layla’s posture, “though I’m not sure how you’re expecting to beat me without your wand.”

“A person tends to be after being kidnapped,” Layla retorts. She sniffs the air, smelling hints of blood coming from her new found aunt; her breathing tightens. Either her aunt was on her period, or she had just returned from cold blooded murder.

“Little girl can bite,” Bellatrix grins. She tosses a sandwich at Layla, who quickly catches it. “Eat up,” Bellatrix directs her, “afterwards, we duel.”

Layla winces at the thought. Her bones still ached from her last duel and her nerves were still on fire since she was tortured. How well would she be able to hold out against this powerful witch? How far would her healing factor, one she only just discovered she had, heal her?

Bellatrix began walking out of the room and, not wanting to anger her, Layla began to follow her. They passed by winding hallways richly decorated, sitting rooms with elaborate furniture, and bedrooms with elegant bedding. At last, they made it to a room with a long table.

“That’s our dining hall,” Lucinda Malfoy quickly noted, her sharp eyes recognizing the room despite the changes it would undertake in the future. 

“You’re right, Mother,” Lucius agreed, squinting at the vision, “though I believe much of it has changed.”

“Unsurprising,” Narcissa coolly stated, ignoring the scowl of her mother-in-law, “I would certainly not allow that room to eclipse its true potential.”

“Well?” Bellatrix smirked, leaping on the table gracefully, “get ready for the duel of your life, Niecy.”

Layla was astounded at the woman’s logic. What sense was there in fighting on a table? Nonetheless, Layla quickly leapt in the air, her feet dexterously landing on the table. 

“My wand?” She asked, facing the threat head on. In a battle like this, a battle to prove the worth of her life, confidence was paramount. She wasn’t certain she could beat the witch; that meant she had to at least leave a very good impression.