Walking Back

Harley stepped through the towering, rune-encrusted entrance alongside King Ragnok and Winky, her senses immediately overwhelmed by the sheer scale and grandeur of the time chamber. As the heavy doors closed behind them, the hum of ancient magic filled the air, vibrating faintly through the stone floor.

The chamber itself was a masterpiece of goblin ingenuity, an expansive space that seemed alive with mystical energy. The walls shimmered with veins of mithril and dragonstone, glowing softly in alternating hues of gold and silver. Embedded in the walls were intricate carvings depicting goblin history and triumphs—images of warriors wielding enchanted blades, goblin kings presiding over councils, and magical creatures bound by alliances. The craftsmanship was so precise, it felt as though the figures might step out of the stone at any moment.

Directly across from the entrance stood a grand arched doorway framed in goblin-forged iron, its surface etched with runes glowing faintly in a deep emerald hue. Beyond the doorway stretched a hallway veiled in soft mist, branching off into the various rooms that made up the chamber’s accommodations. Even from where Harley stood, she could glimpse mosaics of vibrant colors and metallic sheen lining the hallway, each depicting goblin artistry through the ages. It was as if the chamber itself was a living archive of goblin culture and history.

At the very center of the main chamber sat the crowning jewel: an old, ornate magical conference table. It was crafted from a blend of obsidian and gold, its edges finely wrought with swirling runic inscriptions. The table seemed to breathe, expanding and reshaping itself to fit the needs of those present. Its surface glowed faintly, ready to display maps, visions, or tactical plans as discussions unfolded. Surrounding the table were sturdy yet elegant chairs, each carved with the care and precision for which goblins were renowned. The chairs adjusted automatically, ensuring comfort and support for any who sat in them.

Soft light filled the chamber, emanating from nowhere and everywhere at once. The light shifted gently in hues—golden and warm in one moment, cool and silver in the next—almost as if it mirrored the mood of the room. Harley’s steps echoed faintly as she ventured further inside, Winky trailing close behind her, wide-eyed and speechless. King Ragnok strode forward, his presence commanding, his shark-like grin cutting through the ambient glow of the chamber.

“This,” Ragnok said with evident pride, his voice carrying easily through the magical air, “is where you will learn, train, and prepare for the future that awaits. The chamber provides everything you may need—be it rest, food, or challenge. You will make this space yours, Lady Potter. For the next month within these walls, the Goblin Nation will ensure nothing distracts you from your growth.”

Harley looked around, her fingers brushing lightly over the back of one of the ornate chairs. There was power here, raw and untamed, waiting to be harnessed. She felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing heavier on her shoulders—and yet, in this chamber, she couldn’t help but feel the faint stirrings of hope.

Harley paused mid-step, her brows furrowing as her mind caught on something Ragnok had said. She turned to the goblin king, her expression clouded with worry. “A month? King Ragnok, I… I don’t have a month to spare. The world outside needs me now—I can’t afford to disappear for so long.”

Ragnok chuckled, his shark-like grin flashing with amusement. “Lady Potter, do not fret. You misunderstand the nature of the time chamber.” He gestured around them, his voice calm and reassuring. “One hour will pass in the outside world while we spend a month in here. That is the beauty of this place. Goblin ingenuity and magic have bent time itself to serve our needs.”

Harley blinked, the weight of his words settling over her. “One hour?” she murmured, the disbelief evident in her tone. “How… how is that even possible?”

“It is possible because we made it so,” Ragnok said simply, his pride in goblin craftsmanship unmistakable. “This chamber exists outside the normal flow of time, compressing it so that we may accomplish what would otherwise take weeks or months. And rest assured, all your needs will be provided for within these walls. You will have time to train, to strategize, to rest, and even to reflect—all without the world beyond knowing you were gone.”

Harley’s eyes darted around the chamber, taking in its grandeur anew. The shimmering walls, the glowing runes, and the hum of magic now seemed even more otherworldly. The enormity of what the goblins had created struck her like a physical force, leaving her momentarily speechless.

Winky tugged lightly at Harley’s sleeve, her wide eyes shimmering with excitement. “Miss Harley, it is being very clever magic! Winky thinks Miss Harley can be learning very much here.”

Harley nodded slowly, letting herself relax as the implications of the chamber’s magic settled in her mind. “Alright,” she said softly, her gaze shifting to Ragnok. “Then let’s make the most of this time.”

The chamber doors groaned shut behind him, but Bill Weasley’s sharp gaze was already locked on King Ragnok. The faint hum of magic in the air seemed to heighten his every sense, but he maintained his composure as he approached the goblin king seated at the ancient, rune-etched conference table.

“Your Majesty,” Bill greeted respectfully, bowing his head. “I came as soon as I received your summons. How may I serve?”

Ragnok watched him carefully, his sharp eyes glinting with a mixture of authority and calculation. His shark-like grin emerged slowly, but there was no malice in it—only approval. “Curse Breaker Weasley,” Ragnok began, his tone steady and deliberate, “you have been summoned not just for your skills, but for the bonds you share with Lady Potter and the others she wishes to save. Your presence here is not a mere request. It is necessary.”

Bill frowned, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the weight of the goblin’s words. His gaze flicked to the figure standing nearby, her face obscured by an intricate glamour. Something about her presence tugged at him, and as he took a step closer, recognition dawned. “Lady Potter?” he echoed, but his voice softened as he asked again, more carefully, “Harley? Is that you?”

Harley hesitated, her posture stiffening slightly before she gave a small nod. “It’s me, Bill,” she said, her voice quiet.

Bill’s expression instantly shifted to one of concern. “Harley, what’s going on? Why are you here? Does Dumbledore know you’re away? If he finds out—”

Ragnok raised a hand, cutting Bill off with practiced authority. “Enough. Your questions will be answered in time, Weasley, but not now. We will not waste words until all those summoned have arrived.”

Bill’s frustration was evident as he clenched his jaw, turning his attention back to Ragnok. “You said we’re in danger. My family—what are we being saved from?”

Ragnok’s sharp grin grew wider, though his answer remained frustratingly vague. “The danger is both immediate and far-reaching. That is all you need to know for now. Trust that your presence here is vital.”

Bill’s fists tightened at his sides, but he forced himself to nod. “Alright. I’ll wait for the explanation. But my family—my mum and dad, my brothers and Ginny—” his voice faltered for a moment, then steadied, “—and Harley, and Hermione… They’re my sisters in all but blood. If they’re in danger, I need to protect them.”

Ragnok leaned back slightly in his seat, his sharp eyes narrowing as he regarded Bill with a new intensity. “You speak of protecting those who are not your blood as though it is a duty of the heart,” he said slowly, his tone thoughtful. “Few humans speak of such things with sincerity. Fewer still act upon it.”

Bill met his gaze, his blue eyes steady. “Harley and Hermione are my family,” he said simply. “Blood doesn’t change that. They’re part of my heart. And I’d do anything to keep them safe.”

Ragnok was silent for a long moment, his sharp grin softening slightly into something that might have been approval. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a rare note of respect. “Your words are not empty, Weasley. The sincerity in them marks you as a human of uncommon worth. My respect for you deepens.”

Bill inclined his head slightly at the words, though he didn’t look away from the goblin king. “Thank you, Your Majesty. But words aren’t enough. Tell me what I need to do.”

“You must do more than act as an individual,” Ragnok said, his voice regaining its commanding edge. “As the eldest son and heir of House Weasley, you can bind not just yourself, but your entire family to Lady Potter’s cause. Will you swear your loyalty and protection—not only for yourself, but for all of House Weasley?”

Without hesitation, Bill turned to Harley, his voice and gaze unwavering. “Harley, you’ve always been one of us. You’ve been family for as long as I’ve known you. Of course I’ll swear.”

He knelt before her, lowering his head, and his voice rang out with conviction. “I, William Arthur Weasley, eldest son and heir of House Weasley, do hereby swear on my magic, my blood, and my honor that I, and all of House Weasley, will pledge our loyalty and protection to Harley Potter and the House of Potter. We will stand by her side, defend her against her enemies, and honor her as one of our own.”

The air in the chamber seemed to come alive as the runes along the walls blazed brightly, golden light wrapping around Bill as the magic of the oath settled over him. The light extended outward, spreading to bind his words to all of House Weasley—Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. Wherever they were, each of them felt the shift as the blocks on their bonds with Harley dissolved, replaced by the unbreakable connection of family.

Harley gasped softly as the warmth of the bond filled her chest. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at Bill, overwhelmed by the strength of his conviction and the magic that united them.

Bill stood, turning to Ragnok as the golden light slowly faded. “It’s done,” he said, his voice steady but firm.

Ragnok nodded, his satisfaction evident. “Indeed, it is. The House of Weasley has proven its worth this day. Your actions have strengthened the ties between our people, Weasley, and my respect for your house has grown.”

The chamber doors opened once more as Ragnok gestured to them. “Now, your family arrives to take their place in what is to come.”

One by one, the other members of House Weasley stepped into the chamber, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and awe. As they gathered around Harley, the hum of magic in the air seemed to deepen—a silent promise of unity and strength for the trials ahead.

The chamber doors opened wide, their deep groan reverberating through the room as the rest of the Weasley family stepped inside. The ethereal glow of the mithril-lined walls illuminated the intricate runes, casting a shimmering light that danced across the faces of the new arrivals. Arthur and Molly led the way, their expressions a mixture of unease and curiosity. Behind them, Charlie and Percy exchanged quiet, uncertain glances. Fred and George entered together, their sharp eyes darting around the chamber with uncharacteristic seriousness. Ron and Ginny brought up the rear, their young faces reflecting equal parts wonder and apprehension as they took in the grandeur of the magical space.

Arthur’s gaze quickly found King Ragnok, who stood with regal authority near the head of the magical conference table, his sharp features bathed in the soft, golden glow of the chamber. Arthur inclined his head respectfully. “Your Majesty,” he began, his tone steady and formal, “we thank you for summoning us. It is an honor to be here, though I must admit, my family and I are unclear as to why we were summoned.”

Molly’s sharp eyes darted to Bill, who stood beside Ragnok with a tense, resolute expression. “Your Majesty,” she said, her voice tinged with worry, “we’re grateful for the invitation, but I trust my son will explain what this is about.”

Ragnok stepped forward, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered Weasleys. His commanding presence filled the room, and the faint hum of magic intensified as he spoke. “Lord and Lady Weasley,” he began, addressing Arthur and Molly with the titles they had not been called in years, “your family has been summoned because of the bonds you share with Lady Potter and the dangers that accompany those bonds. There are forces at play that threaten both her and all of you.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed as he exchanged a glance with Molly. “Dangers?” he repeated. “What kind of dangers? What is this about bonds with Lady Potter?”

Molly’s face was pale as she turned her worried gaze to Bill. “We felt it,” she said. “The magic of a fealty oath. Bill, you spoke for all of us. Why did you do that?”

Bill stepped forward, his posture firm, his voice steady but filled with conviction. “I swore the oath because it was necessary,” he said. “And I didn’t swear it to just anyone. The fealty oath was to Harley.”

The silence that followed was thick with emotion. Molly’s hand flew to her chest as the tension drained from her face, replaced by a deep sense of relief. “Harley,” she murmured, her voice soft but full of love. “Of course. She’s the only one we would ever swear such an oath to.”

Arthur nodded, his expression relaxing. “She’s family,” he said simply. “Always has been. You made the right decision, Bill.”

As murmurs of agreement rippled through the family, the tension in the air seemed to lessen. But before the relief could take full hold, Ragnok raised a clawed hand, his sharp gaze cutting through the room. “While your loyalty to Lady Potter is commendable,” he said, his tone serious, “there is something else that must be addressed. Your family—like many others who have been close to Dumbledore—bears the traces of enchantments. These spells have been placed to suppress your instincts, alter your memories, and manipulate your loyalties. If we are to ensure your safety and the safety of Lady Potter, these manipulations must be uncovered and removed.”

Gasps rippled through the room. Molly’s hand flew to her husband’s arm as her face drained of color. “Spells?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “On us? Why would he—how could he—?”

Arthur’s expression darkened, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “What kind of spells, Your Majesty?” he asked grimly. “And why?”

Ragnok’s gaze moved to Bill. “I will begin with your eldest,” he said. “Step forward.”

Bill nodded, stepping closer to the goblin king. He stood tall, his expression resolute. “If there’s anything there,” he said firmly, “I want it gone.”

Ragnok raised his clawed hand and murmured an incantation in Gobbledegook. A faint, silvery mist enveloped Bill, glowing softly as threads of golden light began to emerge, wrapped around him like cobwebs. The enchanted quill hovering nearby scratched furiously across a piece of parchment, recording the findings.

The magic revealed a compulsion charm that influenced Bill’s decisions, suppressing his ability to act independently of Dumbledore’s plans. It uncovered a memory modification spell that had altered specific recollections to minimize any doubts Bill might have had about Dumbledore’s motives or actions. Finally, it exposed a loyalty binding spell that subtly but powerfully reinforced his allegiance to Dumbledore, creating unconscious resistance to questioning his authority.

Bill’s fists clenched at his sides as the quill continued its work. His voice was low and tight with anger when he spoke. “Remove them.”

Ragnok extended his clawed hand and sliced through the golden threads with precision. The mist shattered with a soft, crystalline hum, leaving Bill staggered but clear-eyed. He took a deep breath, his expression hardening as he joined the others at the table. “It’s like a fog has been lifted,” he muttered.

Ragnok turned to the rest of the family. “Step forward, one at a time,” he commanded. “We will uncover and remove every manipulation.”

One by one, the Weasleys approached. Charlie was next, his face darkening as the magic revealed a compulsion charm that weakened his resistance to authority and encouraged obedience, as well as memory suppression that hindered his recollection of interactions that might have challenged Dumbledore’s control. “Remove them,” he said tightly, his voice filled with quiet fury.

Percy followed, his stance rigid as the quill recorded the loyalty binding spell that subtly reinforced his allegiance to Dumbledore, coupled with memory modifications that erased suspicions from his past interactions. His face was pale as the spells were removed, and he said nothing as he moved to sit beside Bill and Charlie.

Fred and George stepped forward together. The spells on them were more subtle but no less invasive—loyalty charms that tied their emotional allegiance to Dumbledore, and memory suppression spells that blocked critical recollections. “Well,” Fred muttered as the mist shattered, “that’s a bloody outrage.”

“Can’t even trust someone who calls himself the leader of the light,” George added, shaking his head. “Let’s just say he’s off our Christmas card list.”

Ron’s turn followed, and the magic revealed a compulsion charm that suppressed his ability to make decisions conflicting with Dumbledore’s plans, as well as memory manipulation spells that altered his interactions with Harley to diminish their emotional bond. Ron’s fists tightened as he listened. “He tried to use me against her,” he said bitterly. “Never again.”

Ginny’s report was equally devastating. The spells revealed a compulsion charm that enforced emotional distance from Harley, along with subtle memory suppressions. Her hands shook as the mist dissipated, but her voice was steady. “He won’t come between us again,” she vowed.

Finally, it was Molly’s turn. The room fell silent as the mist revealed the extent of Dumbledore’s manipulations. Magic had suppressed her protective instincts and her suspicions about Harley’s upbringing. A loyalty charm tied her emotional allegiance to Dumbledore, encouraging compliance even at the expense of her family’s well-being. A compulsion charm further influenced her decisions to align with Dumbledore’s wishes.

Molly’s hands trembled as tears welled in her eyes. “No,” she choked out. “Not me. Not my instincts. I’m their mother—I should have known…” Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

Arthur quickly stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her trembling form. “Remove them,” he said curtly, his voice hard with anger.

Ragnok’s clawed hand sliced through the golden threads, and the mist shattered like shards of glass. Molly staggered briefly, then straightened, her breathing unsteady. Something in her eyes had shifted. The warm, nurturing mother they all knew was still there—but now there was steel in her gaze, a ferocity that hadn’t been seen before.

She squared her shoulders, her voice trembling but filled with resolve. “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” she said, pronouncing his full name with deliberate clarity, “will answer for what he has done. I swear it.”

The chamber responded to her vow, the runes on the walls blazing with golden light. A wave of magic pulsed outward, a silent promise that her oath would find its mark. The family stared in awe as the magic dissipated, its purpose carried off to seek vengeance.

Only then did Molly collapse into tears, turning to Harley and wrapping her in a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl,” she sobbed. “For everything. For not seeing what was happening, for not doing enough to protect you—not from the Dursleys, not from the wizarding world, and certainly not from Dumbledore.”

Harley hugged her back tightly, tears streaming down her own cheeks. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “We were all manipulated. But we’re free now, and we’re stronger together.” The rest of the family watched, impressed and slightly unnerved by the shift in Molly.

The chamber was alive with the faint hum of magic as the last of the spells placed on Molly dissipated, leaving her standing tall, fierce, and filled with an unmistakable resolve. Her fiery vow against Dumbledore hung heavy in the air, a pulse of golden energy having already left the chamber to seek vengeance on the manipulative wizard. Molly’s shift from overwhelmed regret to protective ferocity was palpable, and even Fred and George, who were rarely intimidated, exchanged impressed glances.

Arthur, watching his wife with a mix of awe and admiration, squared his shoulders and stepped forward toward King Ragnok. His voice was steady, though his anger at Dumbledore still simmered beneath the surface. “Your Majesty,” he said, his expression resolute, “I believe it is my turn.”

Ragnok inclined his head, his sharp gaze fixed on Arthur. “Lord Weasley,” he said formally, “step forward.”

Arthur obeyed, standing tall before the goblin king. Ragnok raised his clawed hand and murmured the incantation that had revealed so much already. The glowing mist began to form around Arthur, swirling in silver and gold, and the enchanted quill resumed its scratching across the parchment.

The mist revealed spells no less invasive than those uncovered in the rest of the family. A memory suppression spell dulled Arthur’s concerns about Harley’s treatment under Dumbledore’s watch. A loyalty charm enforced emotional allegiance to Dumbledore’s authority, subtly influencing Arthur’s decisions in favor of the wizard’s plans. Finally, a compulsion charm encouraged compliance with Dumbledore’s orders, even when they conflicted with Arthur’s family’s best interests.

Arthur’s jaw tightened as the findings were read aloud, his anger building with every word. “Remove them,” he said sharply.

Ragnok sliced through the threads of magic with a precise motion of his clawed hand, the mist shattering like glass and dissipating into nothingness. Arthur exhaled deeply, his posture straightening as clarity returned to him. For a moment, he was silent, processing the revelations. Then, he turned toward Harley, his expression softening but remaining deeply serious.

“I’ve been blind,” Arthur began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “Blind to the manipulations that took away my ability to protect the people I care about most. But now, I see clearly. And with that clarity comes responsibility.”

He stepped closer to Harley, his gaze unwavering as he knelt before her. “Harley Potter,” he said formally, his voice resonating through the chamber, “I, Arthur Weasley, Lord of House Weasley, pledge our loyalty, protection, and love to you and the House of Potter. You are not just a friend—you are family. We will stand by you through whatever comes, with honor and unwavering resolve.”

Harley’s green eyes shimmered with tears as Arthur’s words sunk in. “Arthur,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion, “thank you. I... I don’t know what to say.”

Molly stepped forward then, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Her voice, though filled with love, carried the same fierce conviction she had shown moments earlier. “You don’t have to say anything, Harley. You’ve always been part of this family, whether it was official or not. But if Arthur’s pledge is to mean what it should, I think it’s time we make it official.”

A ripple of agreement moved through the family. Ginny was the first to speak. “Mum’s right,” she said firmly. “Harley, you’re not just a sister in magic—you’re one of us. You always have been.”

Ron stepped closer, offering Harley a crooked grin. “Ginny’s right. But, you know, you’ve always been my best friend first. Even if we do make this official, don’t think you can outrank me, Potter.”

Harley laughed softly, her emotions spilling out in a mix of joy and relief. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Weasley.”

Fred and George, never ones to miss an opportunity to tease, chimed in together. “Does this mean we can officially call her our sister?” Fred asked. “And if so…”

George grinned wickedly. “Does that mean she’s officially fair game for pranks?”

Harley raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “I wouldn’t get too confident,” she said playfully. “I’ve learned from the best.”

As laughter spread through the group, Arthur rose from his kneeling position and addressed Harley again. “Harley, our family would be honored to adopt you, to make you officially one of us in every way.”

Harley took a deep breath, her heart swelling with emotion. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what to say, except… I want to do the same for you. I want us to be more than just a family—I want us to be united. House Potter is the last noble house, and it offers protections, alliances, and advantages that House Weasley doesn’t have. If I adopt all of you into House Potter, we can strengthen our bonds and ensure that we stand together against whatever comes.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly as he considered her words, but Molly smiled softly and nodded. “That’s quite a gesture, Harley,” she said. “And one that speaks to the strength and wisdom you’ve always had. If that’s what you want, we’ll stand by you.”

Fred and George exchanged grins. “House Potter with a Weasley twist,” Fred mused. “I like the sound of that.”

“Does this mean we get noble crests?” George asked, winking.

“Or robes?” Fred added. “I think I’d look dashing in gold.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Could you two be serious for five minutes?”

Harley stepped forward, her voice steady despite the emotion thickening it. “I, Harley Potter, adopt House Weasley into House Potter. You are my family, my heart, and my strength. Together, we will endure.”

The golden light of the chamber flared as the runes on the walls blazed with approval. The magic surged outward, enveloping the room in a warm, shimmering glow. Each member of the family felt the power settle over them, strengthening their bonds and solidifying their unity.

Molly stepped forward, wrapping Harley in a tight hug. “My sweet girl,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’ve always been ours, but now it’s official. And I promise you, no one will ever hurt you again—not while I’m around.”

Fred nudged George and whispered, “Note to self: never cross Mum.”

“Agreed,” George whispered back. “She’s terrifying.”

Ron grinned and pulled Harley into his own hug. “Don’t get used to all this noble stuff,” he teased. “You’re still just my best friend. And you’re still stuck with me.”

Harley laughed, returning the hug. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As the golden light faded, the family began to settle into their seats around the magical conference table. The unity between them was palpable, and though the road ahead remained uncertain, one thing was clear: together, they were unshakable.

The faint hum of magic in the time chamber reverberated as King Ragnok turned his gaze to the opening doors, where the next arrivals stepped cautiously inside. First were Hermione Granger and her parents, Dan and Emma Granger. Hermione’s usual confidence faltered slightly as she took in the grandeur of the chamber, while her parents followed closely behind, their arms linked for reassurance.

Dan Granger’s jaw dropped as his eyes swept over the mithril-lined walls, the glowing runes, and the golden light emanating from the intricate conference table at the room’s center. Emma Granger let out a quiet gasp, clutching her husband’s arm. Both of them looked utterly overwhelmed, like tourists stepping into Buckingham Palace for an audience with the Queen—except this queen was decidedly not human.

As they drew closer to the imposing figure of King Ragnok, Dan hesitated, then awkwardly bowed. Emma followed suit, curtsying as best she could in her practical shoes. “Your Majesty,” Dan said nervously, his voice stiff with formality. “It’s… an honor to meet you.”

King Ragnok’s sharp eyes flicked over the Muggle couple with a mixture of curiosity and approval. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” he said, inclining his head slightly. His tone carried the weight of ancient authority. “Welcome to the time chamber. You are here because of your daughter’s place within Lady Potter’s circle and because your connection to her places you under threat.”

Emma nodded slowly, her hands tightening around her husband’s arm. “We… we’ll do whatever is needed to protect Hermione,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but the determination in her tone was unmistakable.

Hermione, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of embarrassment and pride, stepped forward. “Your Majesty,” she said, her voice steadying. “Thank you for allowing my parents to be here. They’re not magical, but they’ve always supported me in everything.” Her tone softened slightly as she added, “They don’t know much about… all this.”

Ragnok regarded Hermione with a sharp, assessing gaze. “Magic is not the only measure of strength, Miss Granger,” he said. “Their loyalty speaks volumes.” He turned his attention back to the Grangers and added, “Before this gathering can continue, all humans present must be inspected for enchantments and manipulations. If any are found, they will be removed.”

Dan and Emma exchanged worried glances, their grasp on each other tightening. “Manipulations?” Dan echoed. “You mean… someone could’ve done something to us without us knowing?”

Hermione’s expression darkened as she nodded. “It’s possible,” she said grimly. “Dumbledore isn’t above manipulating people to suit his plans.”

Emma paled at her daughter’s words but straightened her posture, drawing strength from the determination in Hermione’s tone. “If there’s anything that’s been done to us,” she said firmly, “we want it gone.”

Hermione stepped forward first, her head held high. “Start with me,” she said. “Check me first.”

Ragnok inclined his head, raising a clawed hand as he murmured an incantation in Gobbledegook. A silvery mist enveloped Hermione, glowing faintly as golden threads of magic appeared, coiled tightly around her like a spider’s web. The enchanted quill hovering nearby began to scratch furiously across the parchment, recording the findings in precise detail.

The magic revealed a compulsion charm designed to subtly influence Hermione’s loyalty toward Dumbledore, suppressing her tendency to question his decisions or act independently of his plans. Another spell, one of memory suppression, had dulled her awareness of moments when Dumbledore’s actions had conflicted with her own moral compass, ensuring she remained compliant.

Hermione’s face hardened as the findings were read aloud. Fury simmered in her brown eyes as she clenched her fists. “Remove them,” she said, her voice trembling with anger.

Ragnok extended his clawed hand and sliced through the golden threads. The mist shattered like fragile glass, dissipating into nothingness. Hermione stumbled slightly, then straightened, her expression resolute. “How dare he,” she hissed. “How dare Dumbledore think he has the right to do this to me?”

Dan and Emma both looked stricken as they stepped forward. “If she’s been manipulated,” Emma said quietly, “then there’s no reason to think we haven’t been either.”

Dan nodded, his voice tinged with both fear and determination. “Check us, Your Majesty. Please.”

Ragnok turned his sharp gaze to the Grangers and raised his hand, casting the same revealing spell over them. As Muggles, they bore no active magical abilities, but the glowing mist revealed subtler manipulations targeted at their emotions and instincts.

Emma’s inspection revealed a charm that had subtly dulled her maternal instincts whenever Hermione was placed in danger, ensuring she wouldn’t pull her daughter from
Hogwarts. Another spell worked to suppress her ability to recognize the potential threat posed by Dumbledore’s influence over her daughter’s life.

Dan’s findings were similar—a spell had suppressed his protective instincts as a father, while another subtly eased his acceptance of the dangers Hermione faced in the magical world.

As the spells were removed, both Dan and Emma looked visibly shaken. Emma reached out, pulling Hermione into a fierce hug. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry. We should’ve questioned more, done more…”

Hermione clung to her mother tightly, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “He’s been manipulating everyone—not just you.”

Dan placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, his voice trembling but resolute. “We’re here now,” he said. “And we’re not going anywhere. No one is going to use us—or hurt you—again.”

Ragnok inclined his head slightly as the Grangers took their seats near the Weasleys. His sharp gaze returned to the chamber doors, which began to creak open once more.

The golden hum of the time chamber reverberated softly, the shimmering light of the mithril-lined walls casting a warm glow across the room as Augusta Longbottom, Neville Longbottom, and Alastor Moody entered. Augusta led the way, her posture as regal and commanding as ever, her sharp gaze assessing every detail of the chamber. Neville followed just behind her, his hands nervously clenching and unclenching the hem of his robes as he attempted to emulate her composed demeanor. Moody brought up the rear, his wooden leg thudding rhythmically against the stone floor, his magical eye swiveling continuously, taking in every aspect of their surroundings.

Moody’s magical eye immediately focused on the cloaked and glamoured figure of Harley Potter seated with the Weasleys. His regular eye narrowed as his mind raced. “Potter,” he muttered under his breath. “Not at Privet Drive. Something’s going on here.” His magical eye whirled over to the Weasleys next. Their unified stance, the quiet determination on their faces—it all pointed to something far bigger than he had been informed of. Moody’s instincts, honed by years of vigilance, screamed at him to wait. He wouldn’t act too hastily, wouldn’t send word to Dumbledore until he understood what was happening.

As the trio approached the intricately carved conference table, King Ragnok inclined his head in greeting, his piercing gaze sweeping over them. “Lady Longbottom,” he said, his formal tone carrying the weight of his authority. “Heir Longbottom. Mr. Moody. Welcome to the time chamber.”

Augusta returned the greeting with a curt nod, her voice precise and unyielding. “Your Majesty,” she said crisply. “We are here as summoned. What would you have of us?”

Neville gave a nervous nod as well, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “Thank you for having us,” he said softly, though his voice carried a trace of nervous energy.

Moody, however, wasn’t one to mince words. He grunted, leaning slightly on his cane as his magical eye darted back to Ragnok. “What’s all this about, then?” he growled. “Why’ve we been called here?”

Ragnok, unperturbed, met Moody’s gaze evenly before speaking. “You are here because of your ties to Lady Potter and the threats that arise from those connections,” he explained. “Before we proceed, I must inform you that all humans attending this gathering will undergo an inspection for magical manipulations and enchantments. Any that are found will be documented and removed.”

Augusta’s sharp gaze narrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Manipulations?” she asked, her voice clipped. “What manipulations are you referring to?”

Moody’s regular eye narrowed as his magical one whirred slightly. “This had better not be some kind of goblin trick,” he muttered darkly. “I know where my loyalties lie.”

Augusta turned her head sharply to him, her expression softening for just a moment as she reached out to place a hand on his arm. “Alastor,” she said quietly, her voice softer than usual, “if there are enchantments on us, we owe it to ourselves—and to Neville—to uncover the truth.”

Moody grunted but gave her a short nod, his magical eye sweeping the room once more before returning to Ragnok. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get it over with.”

Neville glanced nervously between his grandmother and Moody before stepping forward. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but there was resolve in his tone. “Start with me,” he said, his chin lifting slightly.

Ragnok inclined his head, raising his clawed hand as he murmured an incantation in Gobbledegook. A swirling mist of silver and gold magic surrounded Neville, revealing golden threads of enchantments tightly coiled around him like chains. The enchanted quill at Ragnok’s side scratched furiously across parchment, documenting the findings in precise detail.

The mist revealed a memory suppression spell that dulled Neville’s awareness of his own potential and stifled his confidence, ensuring he remained hesitant and meek. A compulsion charm reinforced this meekness, discouraging boldness or decisiveness. Another, more sinister spell blocked his magical growth entirely, ensuring that even the most basic spells would become a struggle. Perhaps most disturbingly, the enchantments deliberately prevented Neville from stepping into his rightful role as Heir of House Longbottom, ensuring he would never be prepared to claim his lordship.

Neville’s breath caught as the findings were read aloud. Augusta stiffened visibly, her hand clenching tightly at her side. “No,” she whispered, her sharp voice trembling. “No, this cannot be. Not my grandson.”

Neville’s hands curled into tight fists as he squared his shoulders. His voice, though it wavered slightly, was resolute. “Remove them,” he said sharply, his words steady despite the emotion behind them.

Ragnok extended his clawed hand, slicing through the golden threads with meticulous precision. The mist shattered like fragile glass, leaving Neville staggering slightly as the oppressive spells dissolved. He straightened his back, his shoulders squaring for what felt like the first time. His bright eyes shone with newfound clarity, and a strength previously suppressed began to shine through. “I didn’t realize how much they were holding me back,” Neville murmured, his voice quiet but steady.

Augusta stepped forward then, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. Her sharp eyes glimmered with emotion, and her voice softened. “You’ve always had strength, Neville,” she said quietly. “Now the world will see it.”

The golden glow of the chamber reflected briefly in Neville’s tearful yet determined gaze. “Thank you, Gran,” he said simply, a small, grateful smile breaking across his face.

Moody clapped him on the back, his usual gruffness softened. “You’ve got the fight in you, lad,” he said firmly. “Never doubted it—not once.”

Ragnok turned to Augusta next. “Lady Longbottom,” he said formally. “It is your turn.”

Without hesitation, Augusta stepped forward, her bearing unshaken. “Proceed,” she said crisply, her tone as sharp as ever.

The mist surrounding Augusta revealed an array of enchantments no less sinister than those placed on Neville. A memory suppression spell dulled her ability to question authority figures, ensuring compliance with Dumbledore’s plans. A loyalty charm enforced emotional allegiance to Dumbledore, creating resistance to suspicion. A compulsion charm further undermined her independence, subtly influencing decisions in line with his goals. The most personal and cruel enchantment, however, was a spell designed to make her cold and unloving toward Neville at times, suppressing her instincts to show him the warmth and affection he desperately needed after the tragedy of his parents’ incapacitation.

Augusta froze as the findings were read aloud, her composure cracking for the first time. Her sharp gaze softened as tears welled in her eyes. “I…” she began, her voice trembling. “I thought I was doing what was best for him. All this time…” Her voice broke, and she shook her head. “I failed you, Neville.”

Neville stepped forward, his own eyes brimming with tears. “You didn’t fail me, Gran,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “You were manipulated too. We all were. But we’re free now.”

Moody placed a hand on Augusta’s shoulder, his expression unusually tender. “Augusta,” he said quietly, “this was never your doing. You’ve done everything you could for Neville—and no spell could ever change how much you love him.”

Augusta nodded, her composure slowly returning. She met Neville’s gaze and pulled him into a rare embrace. “I love you, Neville,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears. “And I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming.”

The Weasleys, sitting nearby, couldn’t contain their emotions. Molly Weasley dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, while Arthur placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Hermione Granger sat with her parents, who both looked equally emotional, and even Harley, though glamoured, discreetly wiped away a tear.

Finally, Ragnok turned to Moody. “Mr. Moody,” he said sharply. “It is your turn.”

Moody nodded, stepping forward with his usual gruffness. “Let’s see what they’ve got on me,” he muttered.

The mist that surrounded Moody was denser than any seen before, the golden threads tangled and layered heavily. The enchanted quill scratched furiously as layer upon layer of enchantments was revealed, dating back decades. Loyalty charms had been placed on Moody repeatedly to ensure his unwavering allegiance to Dumbledore. Memory suppressions dulled critical doubts, while compulsion charms encouraged trust and compliance. The most devastating spell was one cast to ensure that Moody would never marry or have children. It subtly suppressed his interest in relationships while amplifying his isolation, ensuring he remained wholly devoted to Dumbledore’s cause.

Moody’s face darkened as the findings were read aloud. His magical eye whirred, and his regular eye burned with fury. “That manipulative bastard,” he growled, his voice trembling. “He didn’t just take my choices—he took my damn life!”

Ragnok removed the spells, cutting through the threads layer by layer. As the mist shattered, Augusta stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on his arm. Her voice was filled with quiet emotion as she spoke. “Alastor,” she said softly, “none of this is your fault. But now we must move forward—together.”

Moody looked at Augusta, his hand resting over hers as he met her gaze with a quiet intensity. “Augusta,” he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion, “what Dumbledore took from us won’t define us. He didn’t get everything. We still have each other, and we still have Neville. That’s enough for me.”

Augusta’s lips trembled as she tried to maintain her composure, but the weight of everything that had been revealed—the years of manipulation, the stolen choices—pressed down on her. She gave a short nod, her voice breaking slightly as she replied, “You’re right, Alastor. We still have each other, and that is enough.”

Neville stepped closer, his expression earnest as he looked between them. “It’s more than enough,” he said quietly. “We’re a family. And no matter what Dumbledore’s done, he can’t take that from us.”

Moody gave him a rare, almost hesitant smile, clapping the boy on the shoulder. “You’ve got it in you, lad,” he said, his tone softening. “Don’t ever let anyone make you think otherwise.”

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a soft sniffle. Molly Weasley, seated nearby, was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, her face streaked with tears. “That poor boy,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she looked at Neville with a mixture of sorrow and pride. “To think of everything he’s endured, and yet he still stands here so strong...”

Arthur Weasley placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his own eyes misty. “He’s a remarkable young man,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting to Augusta and Moody. “And it’s clear he’s learned from the best.”

Hermione Granger, seated with her parents, had been silently wiping at her own tears, though she quickly cleared her throat in an attempt to collect herself. “Neville,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “you’ve always been one of the bravest people I know. I’m so glad everyone can see it now.”

Dan and Emma Granger exchanged a pained look, visibly moved by what they had just witnessed. Emma reached over to grasp Hermione’s hand tightly, her voice low but filled with emotion. “What kind of monster would do this to a family?” she asked, shaking her head. “To rob them of their love for each other?”

Harley, though she remained seated with her glamour still intact, was clearly struggling to keep her emotions in check. Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears as she watched Neville and Augusta embrace. She understood all too well what it was like to feel unloved, to believe that you were unwanted or inadequate. Seeing Neville finally receive the warmth he deserved filled her with both relief and heartache.

As the group began to settle back into their seats, Moody straightened his back, his expression hardening as he turned to Ragnok. His magical eye swiveled around the room, taking in the golden runes and the assembled individuals before he spoke. “What happens next?” he asked, his voice sharp and resolute. “Because I’ll tell you this much—Albus Dumbledore doesn’t get to walk away from this unscathed. Not after everything he’s done.”

Ragnok regarded him with a piercing gaze, his tone measured as he replied. “What happens next, Mr. Moody, depends on all of you. The truth has been laid bare, and the chains of manipulation have been broken. It is now up to each of you to decide how you will stand against the one who sought to control you.”

Augusta nodded firmly, her sharp gaze cutting through the room. “There’s no question about where we stand,” she said, her voice steady and commanding. “Dumbledore will answer for what he’s done—not just to my family, but to all of us.”

Neville lifted his chin, his voice stronger now. “We’ll fight for what’s right,” he said, glancing at Moody and Augusta. “As a family.”

Moody gave a grim nod, his magical eye locking onto Harley for a brief moment. “Potter,” he said gruffly, “you’ve got reason enough to be here, that much is clear. But if you’re planning to take on Dumbledore, you won’t be doing it alone. You’ve got the Longbottoms and me at your back.”

Harley blinked, her throat tightening as she tried to find the right words. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “That means everything.”

The chamber seemed to hum with quiet agreement, the golden light casting an almost ethereal glow over the group. Despite the revelations, despite the pain, there was a growing sense of unity among those present—a shared resolve to stand together against the manipulations that had sought to tear them apart.

As the group settled back into their seats, the chamber doors creaked open once more, signaling the arrival of the next wave of allies. The tension in the room thickened, but so too did the determination that bound them together. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it united.

As the golden hum of the time chamber continued to vibrate softly, its atmosphere heavy with recent revelations, the heavy doors opened again. Luna Lovegood and her father, Xenophilius, led the way, Luna drifting into the room with a dreamy grace, her wide, inquisitive eyes taking in the intricate runes on the mithril-lined walls. Xenophilius followed closely, his brightly patterned robes flowing with his movements as his gaze flitted about the chamber with an air of reverent curiosity. Behind them came a new presence entirely: Padfoot—the large, black dog—entered on silent paws, his keen eyes scanning the room. Trailing just behind Padfoot was Remus Lupin, his weariness plain in his posture though his gaze remained steady and watchful.

The sight of the imposing dog drew a mix of reactions from the gathered group. Molly Weasley, seated at the conference table, gasped softly, her hand flying to her chest in recognition. Arthur leaned in slightly, murmuring something reassuring under his breath. Harley’s glamoured figure tensed briefly before her shoulders relaxed, her sharp green eyes narrowing as though to confirm her suspicions. Hermione and Neville exchanged wide-eyed glances, while the free house-elves, led by Dobby, observed with curious reverence.

King Ragnok stepped forward, his sharp gaze landing directly on Padfoot. The goblin king’s commanding presence filled the chamber as he addressed him. “Lord Black,” he said in a tone of quiet authority, stunning the room with the formality of the title. “You need not remain in your animagus form within these walls. You are safe here.”

Padfoot hesitated for a moment, his intelligent eyes flicking to Remus as though seeking silent confirmation. Remus nodded slightly, the gesture almost imperceptible. With that, the large dog stepped forward and transformed smoothly into Sirius Black. His tall, lean frame straightened as he rose to his full height, his sharp grey eyes darting warily around the room before settling on Ragnok.

Sirius’ jaw tightened, his voice low and guarded as he spoke. “Safe,” he said, his tone tinged with disbelief. “Not many places are safe for me these days.”

Ragnok inclined his head slightly. “Gringotts is among the safest places in all the realms,” he said matter-of-factly. “And as Lord of House Black, you hold the ancient bond of friendship with the goblins—a bond forged generations ago and still honored today.”

Sirius blinked, his expression shifting from caution to astonishment as the significance of Ragnok’s words sank in. Being a pureblood and the head of House Black, he knew exactly what the goblin king’s acknowledgment meant. It was a rare and coveted alliance, one held sacred by both wizardkind and goblins alike. “The friendship of the goblins…” he murmured, almost to himself. “That’s not something lightly given—or lightly revoked.”

Ragnok nodded once, his sharp eyes unwavering. “Precisely. And that is not all. As Lady Potter’s godfather and protector, you are further shielded by her status as the Eternal Goblin Friend. Through her, your bond with us is strengthened immeasurably. You have our protection, Lord Black, now and always.”

A stunned silence swept through the room. Sirius stared at the goblin king, his usual wit and bravado momentarily absent as he absorbed the weight of Ragnok’s declaration. Remus, standing slightly behind him, froze in place as his scholarly mind raced to process what he had just heard. Having spent years with Sirius and James and steeped in magical history, Remus understood the magnitude of Ragnok’s words better than most. His eyes widened as he glanced at Sirius, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, “Sirius… do you realize what this means?”

Sirius turned his head slightly toward Remus, his expression guarded but curious. “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “It means the goblins don’t just see me as an outlaw or a fugitive. It means I have something most wizards would kill to have—and I don’t think Dumbledore anticipated that.”

Remus frowned, his expression tinged with concern. “If Dumbledore didn’t anticipate it…” he began cautiously, “it changes everything. And it might explain why he didn’t mention the Black family’s connection to the goblins. He wanted to keep this quiet.”

Sirius grunted in agreement before turning back to Ragnok. “I’m honored,” he said simply, though his voice carried a note of lingering disbelief. “Thank you—for your protection and for trusting me. It’s more than I deserve.”

“Do not mistake our trust as misplaced,” Ragnok said firmly. “We act based on bonds that are forged in truth and loyalty, not the manipulations of those who would call themselves righteous.”

Harley, though silent, felt the weight of those words as they hung in the air. She clenched her fists slightly, her heart pounding as she thought of the manipulations that had plagued her own life. Sirius glanced in her direction briefly, his sharp gaze softening when it met hers—though her glamour still hid much from view, he had spent enough time with her to recognize her presence regardless of appearances.

The chamber doors closed softly behind the group, and Ragnok’s commanding voice broke through the lingering silence. “As with those who have already entered, each of you will undergo an inspection for magical manipulations and enchantments. If any are found, they will be documented and removed.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, his jaw tightening slightly as he nodded. “Fine by me,” he said. “But start with Luna.”

Luna, still gazing serenely at the glowing runes on the walls, stepped forward without hesitation. “You can start with me,” she said softly, her dreamy tone unwavering.

Ragnok raised his clawed hand and began the incantation, the mist swirling around her in faint silver and gold tendrils. As the revelations began, the room held its breath, united in curiosity and apprehension.

The chamber grew silent as Luna Lovegood stepped forward, her serene expression unchanged even as the weight of the room’s attention shifted onto her. The swirling mist of silver and gold began to form around her at Ragnok’s command, the goblin king’s incantation casting an almost tangible spell of anticipation over the gathered group. The mist curled and twisted, pulling tight golden threads into view, their radiance casting faint shadows on Luna’s pale features.

Ragnok’s voice remained steady as the enchanted quill scratched across parchment, recording the findings. The golden threads surrounding Luna revealed far more than expected, their complexity an unsettling reminder of how deeply manipulation had wormed its way into so many lives. The first revealed spell blocked her natural ability of true sight, a rare and extraordinary gift that allowed her to see beyond illusions, deceptions, and even facades of magic. This enchantment had deliberately dulled her ability to see the truths that others could not.

The second spell was crueler still. It encouraged others to disregard Luna’s insights and perceptions, casting doubt on her words and dismissing her observations as fanciful nonsense. A third spell worked to ensure she would be treated as an outcast, subtly influencing those around her to mistreat or isolate her. These spells had been layered carefully, their intent clear: to ensure Luna remained alone and unheard.

However, the magic of these spells had inexplicably faltered when it came to certain individuals. Harley, Neville, the Weasleys, and Hermione—her true friends—had never succumbed to the manipulations, their bonds with Luna remaining steadfast and genuine despite the efforts to sever them. The revelation hung heavy in the air as the findings were read aloud.

Luna’s silvery eyes, as always, remained calm, though they shimmered faintly in the glowing light of the mist. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft and thoughtful as she said, “I always knew I could see things others couldn’t. I wondered why it became harder, why my words stopped reaching people.” Her gaze flickered to Harley, Neville, and the Weasleys, resting briefly on Hermione before returning to Ragnok. “But not with you. You’ve always heard me, haven’t you?”

Neville, standing near his grandmother, nodded vigorously, his cheeks flushed with emotion. “We’ve always believed in you, Luna,” he said firmly. “You’re one of the truest friends we’ve ever had.”

Ginny stepped forward slightly, her fiery nature bubbling to the surface. “And no spell could ever change that,” she said, her voice fierce. “We’re your friends, Luna—always.”

Hermione, wiping her misty eyes with the back of her hand, added, “You’ve seen things we never could. You’ve helped us in ways you probably don’t even realize.”

Harley, still cloaked in her glamour, spoke softly but with conviction. “You’ve always been one of us,” she said. “Whatever they tried to take from you, you never lost your light, Luna. And nothing could ever make us turn away from you.”

Luna smiled faintly, her head tilting again as though listening to some invisible tune. “Thank you,” she said simply, her voice as serene as ever. “I think I can hear it all more clearly now.”

Xenophilius, who had been unusually quiet, stepped forward, his whimsical demeanor momentarily replaced by visible anger. “Who would dare to do such a thing to my Luna?” he demanded, his tone indignant. “To rob her of her sight, her voice, her connections? This cannot stand!”

Ragnok inclined his head solemnly. “The spells will be removed,” he said, his clawed hand extending toward the swirling mist. With a deliberate motion, he sliced through the golden threads, severing the enchantments layer by layer. The mist dissolved with a soft hum, leaving Luna standing quietly as though nothing had changed—yet everything had. She blinked, tilting her head slightly as if testing the clarity of her vision.

“It’s quieter now,” she said after a moment, her voice distant but peaceful. “I can see through it all again. The lies, the illusions… they’re gone.”

Her friends stepped closer, enveloping her in a circle of warmth and support. Fred and George exchanged a glance before Fred said, “Well, whoever put those spells on you has made one serious mistake.”

“Exactly,” George chimed in, his grin sharpening. “Because they didn’t count on you having us.”

Molly’s tears spilled freely as she watched the scene unfold. “That poor girl,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “To be so alone for so long…”

Arthur placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Not anymore,” he said firmly. “She’s not alone now.”

The unity in the room grew stronger, a shared resolve binding them all together as the free house-elves watched with wide eyes, their admiration for Luna clear in their expressions. The echoes of the manipulations and the pain they had caused lingered, but so too did the strength and determination to forge ahead, united and unbroken.

As Luna stepped away from Ragnok and made her way to the table, the room was still brimming with emotion. Molly Weasley rose first, her tear-streaked face filled with maternal warmth as she opened her arms. “Come here, my dear,” she said softly, wrapping Luna in a fierce hug the moment she reached her. “No one will ever make you feel alone again. You’ve got a family now, and we’ll always stand by you.”

Luna smiled faintly, melting into Molly’s embrace as though savoring the rare moment of care. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice dreamy but carrying a heartfelt sincerity.

Hermione stood next, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she stepped forward. She hesitated for only a moment before hugging Luna tightly. “You’re not alone, Luna,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “You never have been—not really. We’ll always believe in you.”

Ginny was quick to join, sliding her arms around both girls with a determined look on her face. “That’s right,” she said fiercely. “We’re your friends, Luna, and no spell will ever change that.”

The Weasley twins weren’t far behind. “They tried to make you an outcast—how dare they,” Fred said, shaking his head before pulling Luna into a one-armed hug.

“But they underestimated us,” George added with a smirk, squeezing her other shoulder. “You’ve got us now. The Ministry doesn’t stand a chance with this lot.”

Ron, slightly awkward but clearly emotional, came forward as well, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, what they said,” he muttered, before giving Luna a gentle, brotherly hug. “You’re part of this weird family now, for better or worse.”

Finally, Harley stood and stepped closer, her glamoured appearance flickering faintly as she wrestled with her emotions. She gently rested a hand on Luna’s shoulder, her voice quiet yet resolute. “You’ve always seen the truth, Luna, even when the world didn’t want you to. And you’ve always been one of us. We’ve got you now—no one’s ever going to leave you behind again.”

Luna’s gaze, luminous and calm, swept across the group surrounding her. Her faint smile widened just a fraction as she nodded. “Thank you,” she said simply, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity that cut through the air. “You’re all very kind. I can see it so clearly now.”

The group guided Luna to her seat at the table, her presence now firmly woven into their shared resolve. As she settled, Ragnok’s steady gaze turned to Xenophilius, who had been standing quietly nearby, watching the exchange with a mixture of pride and protectiveness.

“It is your turn, Mr. Lovegood,” Ragnok said, his voice formal but not unkind. “Step forward.”

Xenophilius straightened, adjusting his colorful robes with a quick flourish before stepping up to face the goblin king. “Very well,” he said, his whimsical tone carrying a thread of steel. “Let us uncover what truths have been kept hidden from me.”

Ragnok raised his clawed hand and began the incantation, the swirling mist forming around Xenophilius in faint spirals of silver and gold. As the enchantments began to reveal themselves, the chamber grew still once more, the gravity of the moment settling over the gathered group.

The mist revealed a series of enchantments that targeted Xenophilius’s loyalty and critical thinking. The first was a subtle charm designed to nudge him toward supporting specific causes, particularly those tied to Dumbledore’s broader plans. It worked alongside a spell of mild emotional dampening, which dulled his ability to sense when something was amiss. Lastly, there was a loyalty charm that subtly reinforced his deference to certain authority figures, ensuring he remained compliant and unquestioning.

As the findings were read aloud, Xenophilius tilted his head, his brows knitting together in thought. “How peculiar,” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with indignation. “To think someone would presume to tamper with my thoughts. Most impolite, wouldn’t you agree?”

Luna, seated at the table, gave a small nod, her tone as calm as ever. “Very impolite,” she agreed. “But they failed. You’ve always been yourself, Daddy.”

Xenophilius straightened at her words, his bright eyes glinting with renewed determination. “Quite right, my Luna,” he said firmly. “Now, Your Majesty, if you would be so kind, I’d like these spells removed at once.”

Ragnok nodded and extended his claws, slicing through the golden threads of enchantment with deliberate precision. The mist shattered into faint shards of light, dissipating into the air. Xenophilius blinked once, adjusting the crooked hat perched on his head as a bright grin spread across his face.

“Well, that’s much better, isn’t it?” he said cheerfully. “I do feel rather… liberated. My thoughts are clearer now, as though a fog has lifted.”

As he stepped back, he turned to Luna, offering her a theatrical bow before joining her at the table. “My darling, you were right all along, of course. The magic here is rather extraordinary.”

Luna smiled serenely, reaching out to pat her father’s hand. “It hums,” she said simply, her voice as serene as ever.

Molly, watching the exchange, dabbed at her eyes again. “What a pair,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “They’ve been through so much.”

Arthur placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his expression soft. “And they’ve come through it together,” he said quietly. “Just as we will.”

As the Lovegoods settled at the table, the chamber pulsed faintly, the runes along the walls glowing softly in acknowledgment of the unity growing among the group. The next names on Ragnok’s list waited silently for their turn, the weight of what lay ahead hanging heavy in the air.

Sirius Black stepped forward again, his jaw tight as he faced King Ragnok. The tension in the room was palpable as the goblin king raised his clawed hand, casting the revealing spell over Sirius once more. The silver and gold mist began to swirl around him, pulling tighter and brighter threads into view, their radiance casting sharp shadows over his gaunt features. Sirius stood still, his gaze unwavering, though the hardness in his expression betrayed his determination to uncover the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

Ragnok’s tone was steady as he began to narrate the findings, his voice carrying across the chamber. The first layer of enchantments revealed was placed at the time of the Potters’ deaths—spells that encouraged Sirius to act rashly, clouding his judgment and driving him to confront Peter Pettigrew without a plan. These spells were designed to intensify his grief and anger, ensuring his actions would lead to chaos. They had achieved their aim, ultimately resulting in Sirius being captured and imprisoned in Azkaban.

Sirius’s fists clenched at his sides, his grey eyes burning with fury. “So it wasn’t just grief,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “It wasn’t just me breaking under the weight of it all. He pushed me to it—manipulated me to it.”

Ragnok continued, slicing through the golden threads that surrounded Sirius as he uncovered the next set of enchantments. These had been placed on Sirius during his return to Grimmauld Place—the ancestral Black family home that had long been steeped in dark magic. Dumbledore had declared it the safest place for him, yet these spells told another story entirely. They revealed enchantments that slowly chipped away at Sirius’s sanity, amplifying feelings of despair, isolation, and self-loathing. The longer he stayed in Grimmauld Place, the more the house itself became a prison—not of stone and bars, but of relentless emotional turmoil. These enchantments had been placed to ensure Sirius would remain broken and compliant, unable to challenge the plans of those who sought to control him.

The findings were met with a stunned silence. Sirius staggered back a step, his eyes wide as he processed the magnitude of what had been done to him. “He put me there,” he said, his voice trembling with rage. “He said it was safe. He said it was for my own good—and all the while, he was making sure I stayed trapped, tearing me apart piece by piece.”

Remus stepped forward instinctively, his hand resting on Sirius’s shoulder as he tried to steady him. “Sirius,” he said quietly, his voice filled with both anguish and anger. “I’m so sorry. I knew you were struggling—I just didn’t realize it was deliberate. I should have… I should have done more.”

Sirius shook his head sharply, his movements jerky with emotion. “It’s not on you, Moony,” he said, though his voice cracked. “It’s on him. He did this. He took everything from me—and he still wanted more.”

The Weasleys, still seated at the table, exchanged horrified looks as the findings sank in. Molly was openly crying now, her hand clutching Arthur’s tightly as she whispered, “That poor man… All he wanted was to protect Harry, and this is how he was repaid?”

Arthur, though equally shaken, placed a steadying hand over hers. “It’s despicable,” he said, his voice heavy. “But Sirius is stronger than that—stronger than the spells. He’s here now, and he’ll make sure Dumbledore answers for this.”

Hermione wiped at her own eyes with the sleeve of her robes, her usually sharp mind grappling with the cruelty of the revelations. “How could anyone…?” she began, but her voice faltered as she glanced at Sirius, who looked utterly shattered yet unwavering.

Even the house-elves, standing quietly at the edge of the room, seemed deeply moved, their wide eyes glistening with emotion. Dobby stepped forward, his small hands trembling as he looked up at Sirius. “Master Black is strong!” he declared, his voice high and determined. “Master Black fights for freedom! Master Black is brave and kind!”

Sirius’s lips trembled as he glanced down at Dobby, his expression softening slightly despite the anger that burned in his chest. “Thank you, Dobby,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “That means more than you know.”

Finally, Ragnok extended his claws once more, slicing through the threads of enchantment with deliberate precision. The mist surrounding Sirius shattered into faint shards of light, dissipating into the air. Sirius staggered slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the nearest chair as he steadied himself. His grey eyes burned with fury and clarity as he straightened, his voice low but resonant as he spoke.

“He doesn’t control me anymore,” Sirius said firmly. “Not Dumbledore, not the Black house, not anyone. He’ll pay for what he’s done—to me, to Harry, to all of us.”

The chamber seemed to pulse faintly in agreement, the golden runes glowing softly in acknowledgment of his resolve. Remus stayed close to him, his presence a quiet reassurance as Sirius moved to join the others at the table.

As Sirius took his seat, his expression remained sharp but determined, a fire ignited within him that would not be extinguished. Harley, still glamoured, offered him a small, steady nod, her green eyes shimmering with emotion as she met his gaze. He gave her a faint, grateful smile, their shared understanding of loss and betrayal forging an unspoken connection.

King Ragnok’s voice rang out once more as the chamber settled into silence. “The truth has been laid bare,” he said, his tone carrying both weight and resolve. “You are free now.

The chamber pulsed faintly, its golden glow shimmering softly as Remus Lupin stepped forward, his lean figure marked by years of weariness yet steady with resolve. The anticipation in the room was thick, every person present holding their breath as the swirling mist of silver and gold began to encircle him. King Ragnok, standing tall at the head of the chamber, extended his clawed hand, casting the revealing spell with the gravitas of someone uncovering truths that would reshape a life.

The mist twisted tightly around Remus, its golden threads growing brighter as they unraveled. Ragnok’s voice filled the room, the incantation resonating with power. The quill at his side scratched furiously against the parchment, recording the dark truths that were beginning to emerge. The revelations were immediate and harrowing.

The first enchantments revealed dated back to Remus’s childhood, shortly after his ill-fated encounter with Fenrir Greyback. Ragnok’s sharp voice explained the cruel twist of fate that had shaped Remus’s life since then. “Fenrir Greyback is a cursed werewolf,” he said solemnly, “and his bite carries a magic distinct from that of a true alpha. A cursed werewolf transforms into a grotesque, mindless beast—a creature of destruction and suffering. But you, Remus Lupin, were never meant to be a cursed werewolf. You are descended from true alpha werewolves—beings of strength, harmony, and leadership.”

The room fell silent, Ragnok’s words echoing like a thunderclap. The goblin king’s gaze lingered on Remus as he continued. “A true alpha does not lose themselves to the beast. They transform with control and clarity, their instincts serving their pack and their purpose. You were always meant to embody this balance. But Greyback’s bite distorted your magic, twisting your alpha nature. And then,” he said, his tone hardening slightly, “additional spells were placed upon you to suppress what remained of your true self.”

Remus’s breath hitched, his brown eyes widening as the weight of Ragnok’s words settled over him. Sirius, standing nearby, took a step closer, his grey eyes blazing with anger. “What?” Sirius barked. “You mean to tell me Moony was never supposed to be like that? All this time, all the suffering—he was meant to be a bloody true alpha instead?”

Ragnok nodded, his sharp gaze unwavering. “Indeed. The enchantments placed upon him ensured his alpha nature was buried, leaving only the fractured remnants of his true self. His transformations, which should have been controlled and harmonious, became chaotic and grotesque—a reflection not of his true nature, but of the curses and manipulations forced upon him.”

As Ragnok spoke, more golden threads unraveled, revealing enchantments layered atop the initial suppression of his alpha instincts. “You were also blocked from forming true pack bonds,” Ragnok continued. “The magic placed on you prevented you from fully connecting with James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Lily Potter. Despite your shared loyalty and friendship, these spells created barriers, ensuring the unbreakable ties between you could never fully form.”

Remus staggered slightly, his shoulders slumping as grief clouded his features. “James… Lily… Sirius,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “We were closer than brothers, and yet… there was always something missing. I thought it was because of the wolf. I thought it was my fault.”

“No,” Sirius said fiercely, his voice trembling with fury. “It was never your fault. It was him—Dumbledore. That manipulative bastard. He’s been pulling the strings all along, keeping you from being the alpha you were meant to be.”

Ragnok’s claws moved with precise, deliberate motions as the threads continued to unravel. Another layer of enchantments emerged, each one more devastating than the last. “This spell,” Ragnok said, his tone grave, “was designed to prevent you from integrating with your inner wolf. Instead of harmony, it created a divide within you. Your human side and the wolf within you were at constant war, amplifying your self-loathing and internal conflict. Transformations, which should have been a source of strength and balance, became painful, chaotic, and uncontrollable.”

Sirius let out a string of curses, his fists clenched tightly. “They didn’t just twist your body, Moony,” he said, his voice shaking. “They twisted your soul. They turned your gift into a curse.”

As the mist swirled darker, yet another enchantment was revealed. This spell, placed after the deaths of James and Lily, cut even deeper. “This magic,” Ragnok said, his voice heavy with disdain, “was designed to isolate you. It compelled you to seclude yourself out of guilt and unworthiness. It ensured you stayed away from those who might have helped you heal—your goddaughter, Harley, and Sirius, your closest friend. Instead of finding solace, you bore your grief alone.”

Harley, seated nearby, stiffened visibly. Though her glamoured figure remained unchanged, the flickering of magic around her betrayed the intensity of her emotions. Her voice was quiet but tinged with sorrow as she said, “You should have been there, Remus. You could have been with me, and he made sure you weren’t.”

Remus’s eyes glistened as he turned toward her, his voice trembling with regret. “I wanted to be,” he said quietly. “I thought about it every day. But I believed… I believed I’d only make things worse.”

The final layer of spells was perhaps the cruelest of all. “These enchantments,” Ragnok said, “were designed to weaken you physically and emotionally over time. By suppressing your alpha nature and forcing you to deny your true self, they eroded your strength and vitality. What you could have been—what you should have been—was stolen from you.”

Ragnok extended his claws once more, slicing through the final threads. The mist surrounding Remus shattered like fragile glass, dissolving into faint shards of light. A ripple of magic swept through the chamber, and with it came a visible transformation.

Remus straightened, his posture shifting as though a weight had been lifted. His lean, weary frame radiated vitality, his amber eyes glowing with newfound clarity. He was no longer the fractured man who had walked into the chamber—he was whole, an alpha wolf in his full strength and purpose.

Instinctively, Remus embraced his transformation, his body shifting seamlessly into his true alpha form. His human features were accented by wolfish traits: tapered ears, glowing eyes, and sharp clawed hands. He exuded calm strength, his presence commanding yet harmonious. For the first time in his life, he felt at peace with Moony—his inner wolf—and it showed.

Then, with a fluid motion, Remus shifted further. His body grew larger, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as fur sprouted and his form reshaped into that of a dire wolf. The massive creature stood tall and regal, its silver-gray fur gleaming in the chamber’s light. His amber eyes sparkled with intelligence and strength, and his very presence demanded awe.

Remus threw back his head and howled—a deep, resonant sound that filled the room and reverberated through every heart present. The silver lines of light flared brighter, shooting outward to form bonds with his pack. First, they connected to Sirius, Harley, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George. Then, the lines spread to the rest of the Weasley family, Hermione’s parents, and finally the house-elves, who had been standing quietly at the edge of the chamber.

Dobby and Winky gasped as the silver threads wrapped around them, their peach-colored skin glowing faintly. “Master Remus!” Dobby cried, saluting sharply. “Dobby is honored to be part of your pack! Dobby will protect Lady Harley and all the pack with his life!”

Winky nodded solemnly, her voice steady but warm. “Master Remus, Winky is part of your pack now too. Winky will serve and protect with all her magic.”

The other house-elves stepped forward timidly, their wide eyes filled with wonder as they too felt the bonds settle around them. One small elf, trembling slightly, said, “We feels it, Master Remus. We is bound to Mistress Harley soon, and now we is part of your pack. It feels… safe.”

Remus crouched slightly, his glowing amber eyes meeting theirs. “You’re not just servants,” he said softly. “You’re family now. And I’ll protect you just as fiercely as you’ll protect us.”

The chamber pulsed faintly, the golden runes glowing brighter than ever. As Remus stood tall once more, his pack gathered around him, humans and elves alike. The room resonated with laughter, warmth, and the unshakable strength of unity. For the first time in decades, Remus was truly free—an alpha, a protector, a leader—and he was surrounded by those who would follow him wherever he led.—from manipulation, from deceit. Together, we will decide what comes next.”

The chamber glowed softly with the lingering magic that had filled the air during Remus Lupin’s transformation. The golden runes on the walls seemed to pulse with life, their light illuminating the faces of the gathered group. At the heart of it all stood Remus, transformed and freed, his amber eyes glowing and his wolfish features radiating strength and harmony. The room bristled with warmth, laughter, and the undeniable sense of unity that had formed among the group.

Harley rose from her chair, her movements deliberate and steady. Without hesitation, she crossed the room toward Remus. Her glamour shimmered faintly as her emotions stirred beneath the surface, revealing the raw intensity of what she felt. She stopped before him, her green eyes soft yet bright, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“You’re free now,” Harley whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “You’re finally free, Moony.”

For a moment, Remus froze, his amber eyes widening as he absorbed her words. Then, slowly, his arms came up to return the embrace, his grip firm but gentle. His wolfish features softened as he held her close, his voice steady but filled with warmth. “Thanks to you. To all of you,” he murmured. “We did this together, Harley. I won’t ever forget that.”

From the table, Sirius leaned against the edge, his grin stretching wide as he called out playfully, “Oi, Harley, don’t hog him all to yourself, cub. Some of us have been putting up with Moony’s grumpiness for decades, and we deserve a bit of the gratitude too!”

Harley turned slightly, meeting Sirius’s teasing gaze, and smirked. “Don’t worry, Padfoot,” she shot back, “you still get your spot as Moony’s official Beta Wolf. I wouldn’t dream of stealing that from you.”

Remus chuckled softly, releasing Harley but keeping the warmth in his expression as he nodded. “Together,” he echoed simply. With one last grateful glance at Harley, he moved toward the conference table, where he was greeted by handshakes, back-slaps, and lively teasing from the Weasley twins. Fred grinned as he quipped, “You’re glowing brighter than a Quidditch trophy, Moony. Sirius, better keep up or you’ll get left in the dust.” George chimed in, “Don’t worry, Padfoot. You can still keep your title as Funniest Paws.”

Sirius groaned dramatically, tossing up his hands. “You lot are lucky I tolerate you,” he grumbled, though his grin betrayed his enjoyment of their antics.

Harley’s attention shifted to the other side of the room, where Dobby, Winky, and a cluster of free house-elves were gathered. Unlike Dobby and Winky, who had been transformed through their bonds into vibrant and powerful figures, the free elves were pale and frail. Their trembling figures and wide eyes hinted at years of hardship, but Harley could see the spark of hope flickering within them.

Dobby saluted sharply, his polished combat boots clicking against the stone floor as he straightened his posture. His green eyes gleamed as he spoke proudly, “Mistress Harley! Dobby has brought the free house-elves as Mistress requested. They is ready to bond with House Potter and serve!”

Winky, ever composed and precise, nodded while clutching her notebook. Her lavender camo uniform was immaculate, and her demeanor radiated calm professionalism. “The elves gathered here are skilled in various fields, Mistress Harley,” she explained. “There is a cook, a maid, a farmer, an animal caretaker, a maintenance worker, a nanny, a healer, a butler, and an assistant who is ready to adapt wherever needed.”

Harley knelt gracefully before the group of elves, lowering herself to meet their gazes without towering over them. Her green eyes were warm and kind, her voice soft but steady. “Thank you for coming,” she said sincerely. “I know this is a big decision, and I want you to know what it means. Bonding with me, with House Potter, isn’t about servitude—it’s about family. Joining us means you’ll be protected, respected, and loved. Your loyalty is something you offer freely, and I promise to honor that with everything I have.”

The elves exchanged nervous glances, hesitant but clearly moved by her words. Finally, the first elf stepped forward—a small female with tearful eyes who trembled slightly as she approached. Harley placed her hand gently on the elf’s head and spoke with conviction. “I, Harley Potter, Lady and Head of House Potter, do hereby bond with you as family. I vow to protect you, care for you, and cherish you as a valued member of our home.”

The golden light swirled around the elf, enveloping her small form in waves of magic. When it dissipated, the elf stood straighter, her frail body transformed. Her skin glowed a healthy peach tone, and she wore a uniform tailored to her role—a forest green dress with silver accents. Embroidered on the left breast were her name, Minta, and her title: “Head Cook of House Potter.” Around her waist was a sleek belt with small kitchen tools tucked into loops: a spatula, a small chef’s knife, and a tiny ladle. Her polished black shoes gleamed, and her posture radiated newfound confidence.

“Thank you, Mistress Harley,” Minta whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “You… you have saved me.”

Harley placed a hand on Minta’s shoulder, smiling warmly. “Welcome to the family, Minta,” she said gently. “You’re safe now.”

One by one, the other elves stepped forward, each introducing themselves and receiving their bond. With every vow, the golden light transformed them, enhancing their health and providing them with uniforms and accessories tailored to their specialties.

Tebby, the maid, emerged wearing a tidy pale blue dress embroidered with her name and title: “Tebby, Maid of House Potter.” A feather duster was strapped neatly to her side, and her polished white shoes sparkled. She smiled brightly as she promised, “Tebby will keep the house clean and beautiful!”

Flix, the farmer, donned practical brown overalls and sturdy boots, her name and title stitched across the chest: “Flix, Farmer of House Potter.” She adjusted her gloves and slung a small trowel into a pocket on her belt. “Flix will grow the best gardens House Potter has ever seen!” she declared.

Hobbin, the animal caretaker, wore a dark green shirt and brown trousers with reinforced knee patches. His name and title shone on his chest: “Hobbin, Animal Caretaker of House Potter.” A leather pouch with treats for magical creatures hung from his belt. “Hobbin loves all creatures. Hobbin will care for them with all his heart,” he said shyly.

Nipkin, the maintenance worker, stood proudly in a sturdy navy blue shirt and brown trousers. His title, “Nipkin, Maintenance Worker of House Potter,” was embroidered boldly across the chest. Around his waist was a magical tool belt filled with enchanted gadgets: a self-tightening wrench, a small hammer, and a vial of instant-fix oil. “Nipkin will keep House Potter running smoothly!” he promised with enthusiasm.

Poppy, the nanny, emerged in a lavender dress and soft shoes embroidered with her name and title: “Poppy, Nanny of House Potter.” She carried a small tote bag filled with toys and necessities. “Poppy loves caring for little ones and keeping them safe and happy!” she said brightly.

Lila, the healer, now radiated competence in her pristine white coat embroidered with her name and title: “Lila, Healer of House Potter.” A pouch filled with carefully labeled potions hung from her waist: calming draughts, healing salves, and energizing tonics. She bowed deeply. “Lila will heal and protect Mistress Harley’s family,” she vowed.

Grimsby, the butler, emerged with impeccable poise in a crisp black suit, his name and title stitched elegantly: “Grimsby, Butler of House Potter.” He carried a ledger book and a pocket watch, giving Harley an elegant bow. “Grimsby will serve Mistress Harley with dignity and efficiency,” he assured her.

Finally, Zimmy, the assistant, stepped forward last. She wore a flexible dark green uniform with cargo pockets and a crossbody bag filled with essentials. Her name and title, “Zimmy, Assistant of House Potter,” were stitched neatly onto her chest. “Zimmy will go wherever needed to make sure everything gets done!” she declared enthusiastically.

As the last elf stepped back, the group stood taller, their uniforms gleaming and their accessories purposeful. The transformation was complete, and they radiated pride and purpose as essential members of House Potter.

Harley turned to Dobby and Winky, her green eyes soft as she took in their excited expressions. “Dobby, Winky,” she said warmly, her voice steady and sincere, “you’ve done such an amazing job today. Bringing these elves here, helping me bond with them, and guiding them—it all shows how much you care for this family. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Dobby’s chest swelled with pride, his polished combat boots clicking lightly against the stone floor as he saluted sharply. “Mistress Harley praises Dobby!” he exclaimed, his wide green eyes brimming with joy. “Dobby is honored to serve Mistress Harley and House Potter!”

Winky, ever composed and efficient, clutched her notebook and nodded solemnly, though a flicker of warmth softened her expression. “Winky is proud to serve Mistress Harley,” she said. “House Potter is Winky’s family, and Winky will always stand by Mistress Harley’s side.”

Harley’s smile widened as she leaned closer to them. “Then I think it’s time to make it official,” she said. “You’ve earned the right to add House Potter to your uniforms.”

Dobby’s face lit up with excitement, and Winky’s normally composed demeanor faltered as her smile grew. Both snapped their fingers simultaneously, sending golden sparks dancing around their uniforms. Across the back of Dobby’s jungle camo shirt, the words
“House Potter Marshal” now appeared in bold silver letters. On the left breast, his title updated to: “Dobby Potter – Head Elf and Marshal.” Winky’s lavender camo shirt shimmered as her title updated to “House Potter Steward” and “Winky Potter – Head Elf and Steward.” Both turned slightly to admire their updated uniforms, their pride evident.

“We is House Potter elves now!” Dobby declared, his excitement nearly bursting from him as he spun slightly to show off the lettering. “Dobby serves Mistress Harley and House Potter! Dobby is happiest elf ever!”

Winky held her head high, her rosy cheeks glowing faintly. “Mistress Harley honors Winky,” she said softly. “Winky is proud to wear House Potter’s name.”

Harley laughed warmly, placing a hand on Winky’s shoulder. “You’ve both earned it,” she said. “And now, Winky, I think it’s time to let everyone see me as I really am. Let’s drop the glamour.”

Winky hesitated briefly, as if searching Harley’s face for certainty. At Harley’s encouraging nod, Winky snapped her fingers, and the shimmering veil of glamour surrounding Harley dissolved like mist in the morning sun. Her true appearance emerged, causing a ripple of soft gasps from some of the elves and murmurs of awe from the group.

Her hair, once hidden beneath the illusion, returned to its striking black with bold streaks of red. The signature lightning bolt scar on her forehead reappeared, no longer concealed, and her glasses returned to rest on her nose, framing her vibrant green eyes—the true emerald hue that made her unmistakably herself. Though the glamour was gone, Winky had thoughtfully left Harley’s chosen style of clothing and makeup intact, knowing how much it meant to her. Her makeup remained bold yet elegant, her attire exuding confidence and individuality.

Harley tucked a strand of her black and red-streaked hair behind her ear, her emerald eyes scanning the room as if daring anyone to comment on her restored appearance. “Much better,” she said with a smile. “No more hiding.”

Just as the room settled, Hermione stepped forward, her thoughtful expression betraying her hesitation. She looked from Harley to the elves, her brow furrowed with concern. “Harley,” she began carefully, her voice quiet but insistent, “I can see that they’re healthier and happier now, but… is bonding with them like this really the right thing to do? Isn’t it just another form of enslavement?”

The elves froze, their wide eyes filling with a mixture of shock and confusion. Dobby immediately stepped forward, his chest puffed out as he saluted once more. His usual cheerfulness was replaced with earnestness as he addressed Hermione. “Miss Hermione,” he said firmly, his tone steady and filled with emotion, “Dobby knows Miss Hermione is a kind witch who cares for house-elves. Dobby thanks her for that. But Miss Hermione must understand—house-elves need magic to live. Without magic, house-elves lose strength, lose their minds, and… lose their lives. Bonding with Mistress Harley is not enslavement—it is saving us.”

Winky stepped beside Dobby, her voice calm but resolute. “Centuries ago, house-elves lived freely, strong and proud. But then a sickness came, spreading through our kind, stealing our magic, our strength, and our lives. Mistress Harley’s ancestor, Queen Morgana Potter, created the magical symbiosis between house-elves and witches and wizards to save us. That bond is not servitude. It is survival.”

Hermione blinked, her furrowed brow softening as she absorbed their words. “Symbiosis?” she repeated slowly, her voice quieter now. “You mean… it’s mutual? Not one-sided?”

Winky nodded, her rosy complexion glowing faintly. “The bond allows us to thrive. Mistress Harley gives us strength, and we serve her with loyalty and love. That is how it has always been.”

King Ragnok, his imposing presence radiating authority, stepped forward. His sharp gaze fixed on Hermione as he spoke. “The bond between house-elves and magical humans is a partnership of necessity and trust,” he said firmly. “House-elves draw strength from the magical core of the witch or wizard they bond to. In turn, they offer their loyalty, skills, and care. The fault lies not in the bond itself, but in the cruelty of those who exploit it. Lady Potter, however, embodies what this bond should be—a relationship built on compassion, mutual respect, and love.”

Sirius, never one to let a conversation grow too serious without adding his own touch, leaned casually against the table, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hermione, I get where you’re coming from,” he said. “But house-elves aren’t like us. They’re magical beings, and they need this bond to survive. Harley’s not enslaving them—she’s giving them a chance to live, to thrive, and to be part of something that values them.”

Fred and George couldn’t resist chiming in, their twin grins lighting up the room. “And honestly,” Fred said, “just look at these uniforms. Dobby’s practically ready to start a magical commando unit.”

George added, winking at Hermione, “Give him a broomstick and a badge, and he’d outshine Ministry security any day.”

Laughter rippled through the room, easing the tension. Hermione allowed a small smile to break through her thoughtful expression as she turned back to Harley. “Thank you for explaining,” she said earnestly. “I didn’t understand before, but now I think I do. I’m sorry if I offended anyone—I just wanted to make sure this was the right thing.”

Harley placed a reassuring hand on Hermione’s shoulder, her emerald eyes warm. “You’ve always wanted to help, Hermione,” she said softly. “That’s what makes you, you. Now that you know the truth, I know you’ll always stand up for what’s right—for them and for everyone else.”

Dobby’s grin widened, his voice filled with pride as he added, “Miss Hermione is a kind witch. Dobby thanks Miss Hermione for her big heart!”

The chamber seemed to hum softly, its golden runes glowing with approval as the bonds of unity solidified. Humans, elves, and all stood together, stronger and closer than ever, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead as one united family.

The chamber’s golden glow shone brighter as the hum of ancient magic vibrated softly against the walls, its presence thick in the air. The intricately carved doors began to groan open, revealing the figures of the final arrivals. A profound silence settled over the room as everyone turned their attention to the group stepping inside.

Entering first was Professor Minerva McGonagall, her sharp eyes darting across the space with practiced precision, taking in the glowing runes and feeling the immense magic thrumming in the air. Her posture was upright, her expression unreadable, though tension radiated subtly in her movement. Beside her walked Professor Severus Snape, his dark robes billowing faintly behind him, his pale face as stoic and unreadable as ever. His piercing black eyes glinted with suspicion as they flicked toward King Ragnok and the glowing chamber walls.

Following closely was Professor Filius Flitwick, his small but commanding presence brightened by a flicker of curiosity as his gaze swept over the ancient symbols etched into the room. Beside him was Professor Pomona Sprout, who carried an air of practical concern as her kind eyes lingered on the runes. She moved steadily, though unease was evident in her careful steps.

Behind them came Madam Poppy Pomfrey, her healer’s intuition clearly sharpened as her sharp gaze scanned the space. Her every movement reflected her vigilance, her composure steady but edged with worry. Next entered Rubeus Hagrid, his massive frame dwarfing the entryway as he ducked slightly to step through the doors. His booming presence felt familiar and grounding, even as his kind eyes narrowed in curiosity.
“Blimey,” he muttered under his breath, his voice like distant thunder. “This place feels alive, don’t it?”

Trailing him was Nymphadora Tonks, her electric blue hair glowing under the chamber’s golden light. Her lively energy was evident even amidst the tension, and she twirled her wand absentmindedly, her sharp eyes noting every detail of the room. She flashed a quick grin at Harley as she moved further inside.

Walking together were Andromeda Tonks and her husband Ted Tonks, a study in quiet solidarity. Andromeda’s sharp, noble features softened only slightly by the golden light, while Ted’s warmth and kind demeanor were evident in his calm but observant movements. Close behind them came Narcissa Malfoy, her icy beauty undiminished as her sharp blue eyes darted toward King Ragnok. She entered with her signature elegance, though her calculated steps betrayed her unease. Beside her walked her son, Draco Malfoy, his shoulders tense and his grey eyes flicking cautiously between the room’s glowing runes and the goblins at its center.

Just a step behind were Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, who both moved with a quiet elegance reflective of their Slytherin heritage. Daphne’s calm and collected expression mirrored Narcissa’s, though her emerald-green eyes flickered over the chamber with subtle calculation. Tracy’s more reserved demeanor was evident in the way her gaze lingered on the pulsing light of the golden runes, her nervous energy suppressed but present.

Finally, Amelia Bones stepped into the chamber, her commanding presence impossible to ignore. Her monocle gleamed in the faint glow as her sharp gaze swept the room, her purposeful stride and quiet confidence showing that she was already analyzing the situation with precision.

Just as the last human crossed the threshold, the doors began to groan shut. The grinding of ancient gears filled the room as the carved stone doors sealed definitively with an audible and final thud, locking everyone inside. The golden runes along the chamber walls flared brightly, their light rippling outward in mesmerizing waves before settling into a steady glow. The hum of magic grew louder, pressing against the senses of everyone present, its energy almost tangible.

The silence that followed was broken as another figure strode purposefully into the chamber: Deprak, King Ragnok’s eldest daughter and trusted confidante. Her armor gleamed faintly in the golden light as she moved with the regal grace of her station. Her emerald-green eyes mirrored her father’s piercing gaze, but there was a quiet intensity to her presence as she took her place near the center of the room. She turned to face the gathered group and raised a clawed hand, activating the chamber’s ancient power.

At her command, the runes flared again, their intricate patterns glowing even brighter as they seemed to respond to her very presence. The hum of magic deepened, resonating like a distant drumbeat and filling the chamber with a sense of monumental purpose.

“The chamber is now sealed,” Deprak announced, her tone steady and authoritative. “Its work will now begin, and none may leave until it is complete.”

The weight of her words settled heavily over the group as they exchanged uneasy glances. The oppressive magic of the chamber wrapped itself around them, its presence inescapable. For a moment, the only sounds were the quiet shuffling of feet and the hum of magic filling the air.

McGonagall, ever composed, was the first to break the silence. Her sharp voice cut through the tension as her gaze fixed on Deprak. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Why has the door been sealed? And what is the purpose of this chamber?”

Snape’s dark presence joined hers as he moved to stand beside her, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His cold black eyes glittered with suspicion, his tone sharp. “You have summoned us here under false pretenses,” he said. “I expect an explanation for this... containment.”

Amelia Bones stepped forward, her commanding presence drawing attention as her gaze shifted between Deprak and King Ragnok. “This gathering is highly irregular,” she said evenly. “The strength of the magic in this chamber is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. I trust there is a reason for our presence here.”

Deprak raised her hand for silence, her emerald gaze sweeping the room with quiet authority. “You have been brought here for a reason,” she said firmly. “Before we can proceed, the chamber’s magic must address a matter of grave importance. Each of you has been burdened with hidden enchantments—spells placed upon you without your knowledge or consent. These spells have suppressed your thoughts, altered your emotions, and in some cases, erased your memories. The magic of this chamber will reveal these enchantments, and they will be removed.”

Her declaration was met with gasps and murmurs of disbelief, the weight of her words settling heavily over the group. McGonagall’s expression hardened as her lips thinned. “Spells?” she repeated, her tone sharp with controlled anger. “And just how long have these enchantments been in place?”

“For most of you,” Deprak replied, “these spells have been active for decades. Some of you have been under their influence for nearly thirty years, reinforced periodically to ensure their strength.”

The murmurs grew louder as confusion gave way to outrage. Snape’s black eyes narrowed further, his voice cutting through the noise. “You claim we have been manipulated for decades?” he hissed. “What proof do you have?”

Deprak gestured toward the glowing runes at the center of the chamber. “Step forward,” she instructed. “The chamber will reveal the spells hidden within you.”

The golden glow of the chamber bathed the gathered group in light as the hum of ancient magic reverberated through the air. The massive doors had sealed moments before with an echoing thud, leaving no doubt that the space was now fully secured. Each person stood in silence, the weight of the chamber’s presence pressing against their senses as its power thrummed around them.

Deprak, King Ragnok’s eldest daughter, stepped forward with precision, her emerald-green eyes scanning the room. Her armored figure glinted faintly in the radiance of the runes as she raised a clawed hand, activating the chamber’s magic. The runes flared brighter, their shimmering light rippling outward in intricate waves. “The chamber is now sealed,” she declared, her voice resonating with authority. “Its work begins now, and none may leave until it is complete.”

Unease rippled through the room, and Professor McGonagall was the first to step forward, her sharp eyes fixed on Deprak. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her tone firm but edged with urgency. “Why has the door been sealed? What exactly is the intent of this chamber?”

Snape moved to stand beside her, his black eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You have summoned us under false pretenses,” he said coldly. “We deserve an explanation for this… containment.”

Amelia Bones’s commanding voice joined theirs, cutting through the murmurs of confusion. “Deprak,” she said evenly, her monocle glinting in the golden light. “This magic is unlike anything I’ve encountered. What is its purpose?”

Deprak raised her hand again, silencing the growing murmurs. Her tone was calm yet unyielding as she addressed the group. “You have been brought here for a reason. Before we can proceed, the chamber must address a grave matter: the enchantments placed upon each of you. These spells, embedded without your knowledge, have suppressed your thoughts, altered your emotions, and even erased your memories. The magic of this chamber will reveal these enchantments and remove them.”

Shock rippled through the room, outrage evident in the startled gasps and exclamations. McGonagall’s composure stiffened further, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Enchanted?” she repeated sharply. “How long have these spells been in place?”

“For some of you, decades,” Deprak replied. “Many of these enchantments have been active for thirty years or more, reinforced periodically to maintain their strength.”

The revelation stunned the gathered group into silence. Snape’s dark gaze hardened further as his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You claim we have been manipulated for decades?” he hissed, his voice cutting through the tension. “What proof do you have?”

Deprak gestured toward the glowing runes at the center of the chamber. “Step forward,” she instructed. “The chamber will reveal the truth.”

McGonagall was the first to step forward, her sharp eyes narrowing as she entered the light of the runes. The golden glow brightened as the magic surrounded her, exposing the hidden spells woven into her very being. Deprak’s voice rang out clearly. “Suppressive loyalty spells. Designed to compel unwavering obedience to Albus Dumbledore, regardless of morality or consequence. Active for over thirty years, reinforced periodically.”

McGonagall’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her features hardening as the truth sank in. “Remove them,” she ordered sharply, her tone like steel. As the enchantments dissolved, her expression darkened, fury simmering beneath her composed exterior.

Professor Flitwick followed next, his small frame stepping forward with measured caution. The golden light flared around him, and Deprak announced, “Loyalty spells tied to compliance with Dumbledore’s authority. Suppressive enchantments limiting critical thought and dissent. Active for nearly thirty years.” Flitwick’s warm demeanor gave way to a quiet, simmering anger as the spells were lifted.

Professor Sprout stepped forward, her earthy robes swishing softly as the light surrounded her. The runes illuminated her spells, and Deprak revealed, “Suppressive enchantments ensuring compliance with directives from Dumbledore. Active for over thirty years.” Sprout’s kind face hardened as she nodded curtly. “Remove them,” she said firmly.

Madam Pomfrey moved hesitantly into the runes, her hands trembling slightly. The golden glow flared brighter around her as Deprak’s voice grew heavier. “Spells suppressing proper process for reporting suspected abuse. Barriers preventing escalation to the appropriate authorities. Active for over twenty-five years, reinforced periodically.” Pomfrey’s face paled, her lips trembling with barely contained fury. “You mean to tell me I was barred from protecting students?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Remove it. Immediately.” As the spells dissolved, her healer’s gaze sharpened, her fury unmistakable.

When Snape stepped forward, the room seemed to hold its collective breath. The golden light flared even brighter, wrapping around him like a molten veil. Deprak’s voice carried a grave tone as she began, “Professor Snape, you bear multiple enchantments. Emotional manipulation spells to instill animosity toward Gryffindors, the Marauders, Miss Harley Potter, and her friends. Memory tampering spells, erasing recollections of reconciling with the Marauders before the Potters’ deaths. Suppressing the knowledge that you are Miss Potter’s godfather—a role entrusted to you by Lily Potter herself. Active for nearly two decades, reinforced annually.”

The silence following her words was deafening. It was Sirius Black who shattered it, his voice sharp and incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding. Snivellus—her godfather? That’s got to be some twisted joke!”

Remus Lupin sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before speaking. “Sirius,” he said softly, though there was weight in his tone. “Lily wouldn’t have trusted him without reason. She saw something in him.”

“Reason?” Sirius barked back, his grey eyes blazing. “What bloody reason could she possibly have had? The man hated James—hated all of us!”

“Bloody hell,” Ron Weasley muttered, his freckled face pale as he stared between Snape, Harley, and the glowing runes. “Snape—a godfather? What’s next, Malfoy starting a knitting club?”

Amid the rising murmurs, Harley remained calm yet purposeful. Her stance was steady, her black and red-streaked hair catching the chamber’s golden glow. When she finally spoke, her voice was firm but steady. “Enough,” she said, cutting through the noise. All eyes turned to her as her emerald-green gaze swept across the room. “I won’t stand here and let you tear him down.”

Sirius blinked, his indignation faltering. “Harley, are you saying you—”

“I trust him,” she interrupted, her tone unwavering. “You don’t know him—not really. None of you do. You don’t know the things he’s done, the times he’s stepped forward when no one else would. Whatever he’s done in the past, he saved me. That matters.”

Her words silenced the group. Even Sirius seemed at a loss for words as he processed the quiet conviction in her voice. Remus’s amber eyes softened as he stepped closer to Harley. “You trust him?” he asked gently, though his tone held no disbelief—only curiosity.

“Yes,” Harley said firmly. “And I won’t let him stand here and be blamed for things he didn’t even know about because of those spells.”

Snape remained silent, his black eyes unreadable as they briefly flicked to Harley before darting away. His posture was stiff, his pale face twisted with an emotion no one could quite place.

Deprak nodded once, her tone steady. “The spells have been removed, and his memories restored.”

Harley exhaled softly, her posture relaxing slightly. “Then that’s all that matters for now,” she said. “Let’s focus on the real issue—who placed these spells on all of us and why. Pointing fingers won’t fix this.”

Sirius crossed his arms, still frowning, but he nodded reluctantly. “Fine. For now.”

The chamber hummed softly once more, its golden light dimming slightly as the tension settled. The group, though shaken, turned their focus back to the revelations that awaited them.

Hagrid stepped forward hesitantly, his massive frame casting long shadows against the glowing golden runes that lined the chamber walls. His gentle, familiar demeanor felt out of place in the oppressive energy of the room, and there was a flicker of uncertainty in his dark eyes as he moved to stand at the center of the runes. The hum of magic deepened around him, almost seeming to resonate with the buried truths waiting to be revealed.

The chamber reacted to Hagrid’s presence, its glow flaring brightly as the intricate patterns of runes seemed to dance around him. Deprak’s emerald gaze remained steady as she spoke, her tone clear yet solemn. “Rubeus Hagrid,” she began, her voice carrying through the stillness, “the enchantments placed upon you are extensive and deeply rooted. Spells have been embedded within your magic for decades, designed to weaken its natural potency and suppress your growth as a magical being. Spells enforcing absolute loyalty to Albus Dumbledore, restricting your ability to question his actions or intentions. Spells preventing independent thought, ensuring your mind follows his will without hesitation. Memory-repression spells hiding critical moments you witnessed—moments where Dumbledore committed acts of harm against the Potters, the Marauders, Miss Harley Potter, her friends, the Longbottoms, and even Hogwarts itself.”

Gasps rippled through the room, but Hagrid himself remained frozen, his expression unreadable. He blinked slowly, his lips parting slightly as though he were struggling to process what had been said. His rugged features furrowed deeply, confusion flickering across his face as he began to speak, his voice trembling. “N-No. No, tha’ can’t be right,” he muttered. “Dumbledore’s… a great man. He’d never hurt anyone. Yer got it wrong.”

Deprak’s gaze softened slightly, though her tone remained firm. “The enchantments placed upon you were carefully designed to suppress your ability to think critically about him or his actions. They ensured that you remained loyal, even in the face of evidence to the contrary.”

Hagrid shook his head stubbornly, his large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Yer mistaken,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly as he struggled against the implications. “He’s always looked out fer me. Always been kind ta me. He wouldn’t do somethin’ like that. I know it.”

Harley watched him closely, her emerald-green eyes filled with sympathy. She took a step toward him, her voice gentle but steady. “Hagrid,” she said softly, “you’ve always believed in him. But sometimes... even the people we trust the most can let us down. You don’t have to face this alone.”

Hagrid’s gaze flickered toward her briefly, his expression conflicted as he struggled against the effects of the spells still holding him in denial. He shook his head again, his breathing growing heavier as the chamber’s magic hummed louder. “I… I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.”

Deprak stepped forward, raising her clawed hands to begin the process of removing the enchantments. The golden runes pulsed brightly, their light wrapping around Hagrid like a cocoon. The hum of the chamber’s magic deepened, and as the layers of spells were dismantled one by one, Hagrid’s body stiffened. His rugged features contorted, his eyes squeezing shut as flashes of buried memories began to surface—moments that had been hidden from him for decades.

The light around him dimmed slightly as the final spell dissolved, leaving Hagrid standing still and silent, his broad shoulders trembling. His dark eyes opened slowly, wide and filled with horror as the memories flooded back. He staggered slightly, his massive frame seeming to shrink as the weight of what he had witnessed crashed down on him all at once.

“No…” Hagrid’s voice cracked as he sank to his knees, his hands trembling. Tears began to well in his eyes, sliding down his weathered cheeks as sobs wracked his body. “I saw it… I saw it all. What he did… ta them. Ta everyone. I thought I was helpin’. I thought he was doin’ good. But it was all lies. Everythin’—all lies.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, stunned into silence as Hagrid’s emotions spilled over. Harley moved forward quickly, kneeling beside him and placing a comforting hand on his broad shoulder. “Hagrid,” she said softly, her voice steady and reassuring. “You didn’t know. None of this is your fault. You trusted him because he made you trust him. But that doesn’t make you weak—it doesn’t make you wrong.”

Hermione joined her, kneeling beside Hagrid as she placed her hand gently over his massive one. “You’ve always done your best, Hagrid,” she said quietly. “You’ve always tried to protect us. That hasn’t changed.”

Ron, standing close behind them, nodded earnestly. “Yeah, mate. You’re the best of us. Don’t let what he did make you think otherwise.”

Hagrid’s sobs softened slightly as he looked at the three of them, his eyes filled with gratitude and pain. “I didn’t mean ta hurt anyone,” he whispered brokenly. “I thought I was doin’ what was right.”

“You were, Hagrid,” Harley said firmly. “You always have been.”

Deprak stepped forward, her gaze warm but composed as she gestured toward the long table that sat near the center of the room. With a ripple of magic, the table expanded, its length increasing seamlessly to accommodate the growing group. A chair at the end shifted, growing larger until it was the perfect size for Hagrid to sit in. Harley helped him to his feet, leading him gently toward the chair as the others followed.

As Hagrid sank into the seat, his posture remained heavy, but the quiet support of his friends surrounded him like a protective shield. The chamber’s hum softened slightly, as though in acknowledgment of the weight that had been lifted. Though the truth was painful, the group knew it was only the beginning of what they would uncover.

The chamber pulsed with a deep hum, its ancient magic rippling through the air as the golden runes lining the walls glowed with an almost ethereal brilliance. The weight of the revelations hung thick, like a fog of unspoken truths ready to be unearthed. Each person who stepped forward carried with them not only the spells burdening their mind and soul but the hope of release, clarity, and liberation. Yet the anticipation of what would come next felt suffocating.

Narcissa Malfoy moved forward with purpose, her icy composure intact despite the tension in her delicate frame. She walked into the circle of golden runes that surrounded her, the light bending and brightening to meet her. The chamber’s hum grew sharper, more pronounced, as the magic around her began to reveal the intricate web of spells that had shaped her life.

Deprak’s voice rang out, clear and steady. “Narcissa Malfoy, the enchantments placed upon you have manipulated the course of your life for decades. Spells were embedded to enforce loyalty to your husband, Lucius Malfoy, ensuring compliance with his directives and suppressing any thoughts of rebellion. Most significantly, enchantments were placed to override your free will, compelling you to marry him despite any doubts or reluctance. These spells have been active for over thirty years, reinforced periodically.”

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the room, though Narcissa stood as still as a statue. Her piercing blue eyes flickered as the weight of the revelation hit her. For a moment, her composure wavered, a crack appearing in the perfect veneer she so carefully maintained. “Compelled to marry him?” she repeated, her voice low but trembling slightly. “My choice was stolen from me?”

Deprak inclined her head in silent confirmation. The golden light around Narcissa shimmered, reflecting the intensity of the emotions simmering beneath her surface. Slowly, she turned, her gaze locking onto Sirius Black with icy determination.

“Lord Black,” she began, her voice carrying across the chamber with the same confidence and authority that marked her as a true Black, regardless of her marriage to Lucius. “As the Head of the House of Black, I appeal to you. I ask that you annul my marriage to Lucius Malfoy and restore both myself and my son, Draco, to the House of Black. We are true Blacks, and this marriage was a falsehood imposed upon me.”

Sirius blinked, taken aback by the sudden request. His grey eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, his expression unreadable. The room seemed to still as everyone turned their attention to the exchange. Finally, Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed but his tone serious. “Narcissa,” he began slowly, “this isn’t a decision I can make lightly. Annulment isn’t just about severing ties—it’s about proving intent, truth, and loyalty to the House of Black. I’ll consider your request, but we’ll need to talk—privately—before I can decide.”

Narcissa dipped her head in acknowledgment, her voice calm yet resolute. “Of course, Lord Black. I am prepared to prove my loyalty in whatever way is required. If necessary, I will take veritaserum, as is the way of House Black, to show the truth of my words and my intent.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the offer. For a brief moment, a flicker of respect passed through his features. He nodded slowly. “We’ll talk later, then. But for now, let’s focus on the rest of what needs to be done here.”

Narcissa stepped back, her head held high, her hand resting protectively on Draco’s shoulder as she returned to her place. Though her expression remained composed, the fire in her gaze showed the unyielding resolve of someone reclaiming her identity.

Draco followed next, stepping into the circle with more hesitation than his mother. The runes flared brightly as they illuminated the layers of enchantments placed upon him. Deprak’s voice rang out. “Draco Malfoy, the spells placed upon you fostered mistrust and hostility toward other houses, particularly Gryffindor, and created barriers to prevent you from forming meaningful relationships outside of Slytherin. Furthermore, enchantments instilled fear of defying figures of authority such as your father or Albus Dumbledore. These spells have been active since your first year at Hogwarts, reinforced annually.”

Draco’s pale face contorted with suppressed anger as the revelations struck him. His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he processed the truth. “So all this time,” he said quietly, his voice trembling with rage, “it wasn’t even me—it was spells? Spells telling me who to trust, who to hate, who to obey?” His grey eyes flicked toward his mother for a brief moment before turning back to Deprak. “Remove them.”

The runes shimmered brighter as the spells unraveled. When the final enchantment dissolved, Draco stepped back, his posture straighter but his expression stormy. He rejoined Narcissa silently, his emotions tightly controlled, though the fire in his eyes mirrored his mother’s.

Andromeda Tonks followed next, her graceful movements steady despite the faint tremble in her hands. As she entered the glowing circle, the chamber hummed louder, revealing the magic buried within her. Deprak’s voice carried once more. “Andromeda Tonks, the enchantments placed upon you targeted your familial bonds and instincts as a mother. Spells were embedded to isolate you from your family, creating distance between you and your cousin, Sirius Black, and preventing you from forming alliances with Miss Harley Potter and her allies. Additional enchantments suppressed your maternal instincts, dampening your ability to act decisively in defense of your child. These spells have been active for over twenty years, reinforced regularly.”

Andromeda’s dark eyes glimmered with hurt before narrowing with fury. “Spells to harm my family? To dull my instincts as a mother?” she said, her voice trembling. “This is a violation of everything I am—everything I stand for.”

“They wanted to weaken you,” Harley said gently, stepping closer. “But they didn’t. Not really. You’re stronger than those spells could ever make you.”

Andromeda’s lips pressed into a thin line, her shoulders straightening as she nodded firmly. “Remove them,” she said. The spells dissolved one by one, and when they were gone, Andromeda exhaled slowly, the weight lifting from her frame. She rejoined Ted, her hand brushing his as they stood together in quiet solidarity.

Ted stepped forward next, the chamber revealing the enchantments that had targeted his sense of belonging. Spells fostered doubt in his own abilities and ensured he remained distanced from pureblood society. As the spells were removed, Ted’s quiet resolve remained firm, his hand finding Andromeda’s once again as he stepped back.

Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis followed, their enchantments revealed to have fostered isolation and mistrust, keeping them bound to pureblood ideals and hindering their ability to form bonds outside their house. Both girls stood silently as their spells were lifted, their expressions hardening as they processed the manipulation they had endured.

At the edge of the chamber, Ragnok finished his conversation with the other goblins, his sharp gaze turning back to the group. Though he had been silent throughout the process, his presence carried a weight of authority and purpose. Whatever plans he and Deprak were orchestrating, it was clear that the spell removals were only the first step in a larger, unfolding strategy.

The chamber dimmed slightly, its hum softening as the final enchantments dissolved. The group stood together, their anger and determination uniting them as they prepared for the next phase of uncovering the truth.

Amelia Bones stepped forward with precision, her posture straight and commanding as she entered the golden circle of runes. Her sharp monocle caught the light of the chamber, reflecting the intensity of her unwavering gaze. Though she carried herself with the confidence befitting a seasoned leader, there was a flicker of unease in the tightness of her jaw and the faint crease in her brow. The weight of the chamber’s magic pressed against her, its hum deepening as it began to reveal the truths buried deep within her.

Deprak turned her emerald gaze toward Amelia as the glowing runes flared, their light wrapping around her form. Her voice rang out, clear and measured. “Amelia Bones, the enchantments placed upon you targeted your leadership, judgment, and ability to uncover corruption. Spells were embedded to erode your confidence in your decisions, fostering hesitation in critical moments and ensuring doubt would linger at key junctures. Additional enchantments dulled your ability to detect deception, hindering your efforts to uncover lies and identify those who sought to exploit or harm others. These spells have been active for over fifteen years, reinforced periodically to maintain their potency.”

Amelia remained silent, her gaze steady as the words settled over her. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening as the gravity of the revelation hit her. “Fifteen years,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a sharp edge. “Fifteen years sabotaged—not just me, but the lives I’ve worked to protect. My decisions manipulated, my instincts dulled. All to keep me from seeing the truth.”

Her hands clenched at her sides, her knuckles whitening as her frustration simmered. “And all the while, I thought I was hesitating because of my own uncertainty. Second-guessing myself in moments when clarity should have been mine.”

Her piercing gaze shifted to Deprak, the fire in her eyes burning brightly now. “Remove them,” she said firmly. “Every last one.”

Deprak nodded, raising her clawed hand to direct the chamber’s magic. The runes surrounding Amelia glowed brighter, their golden light intensifying as the enchantments were systematically unraveled. The hum of the chamber deepened, resonating with the tension in the air as layer after layer of spells dissolved. Amelia’s sharp features softened briefly as she closed her eyes, a deep breath escaping her lips as the oppressive weight began to lift.

When the final enchantment broke, Amelia opened her eyes again, her steely gaze sharper than ever. Though the air around her seemed lighter, her expression carried a quiet determination that spoke volumes. She stepped out of the circle with her head held high, her monocle catching the light once more as she returned to the group.

“I will not hesitate again,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “And I will see to it that those responsible for this manipulation face the consequences.”

The chamber pulsed softly in acknowledgment, its golden light dimming slightly as Amelia joined the others. Though the betrayal she had endured weighed heavily, it was clear that the clarity she had regained had only strengthened her resolve.

The golden glow of the chamber bathed the room in soft, pulsing light, casting faint reflections across the polished table. The faint hum of magic resonated in the background, subtle but ever-present, a reminder of the ancient power surrounding them. The group sat around the table, each chair adjusted to its occupant—Hagrid's oversized seat at one end, Sirius’s restless posture at another, and Narcissa's poised form directly across from her sister, Andromeda. The quiet murmur of light conversation carried across the table, a fragile attempt at normalcy amidst the tension.

Hagrid leaned forward slightly, his massive hands resting on the armrests of his chair. “Strangest thing, this chamber,” he rumbled, his deep voice laced with curiosity. “Feels… peaceful somehow, even with everythin’ else goin’ on.”

Tonks, seated beside him, glanced at the glowing runes carved into the walls. Her electric blue hair shifted slightly as she tilted her head. “Peaceful, yeah,” she said lightly, “but it’s a little unnerving too. Like it’s… watching us or something.”

“Magic this ancient often feels alive,” Hermione murmured, her brown eyes scanning the runes with fascination. She leaned slightly forward, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “It’s remarkable, really. The way it resonates—it must be centuries old, maybe even older.”

Ron nudged her lightly with his elbow, attempting a faint grin. “Leave it to you to make a time chamber sound like something out of Hogwarts: A History,” he said, though his voice was tinged with unease.

“Maybe she’s not wrong, Ron,” Sirius cut in, his grey eyes flicking toward the faintly glowing table. He tapped it lightly with his fingers, his tone tinged with curiosity. “Feels like it knows we’re here—like it’s waiting for something.”

Before anyone could respond, the sound of measured footsteps echoed softly through the chamber. All eyes turned as King Ragnok approached, his regal bearing commanding attention. His sharp emerald gaze swept over the group as he neared the table, and the quiet murmur of conversation ceased. Behind him, Deprak moved with equal precision, her armored figure glinting faintly under the chamber’s light. She took a seat beside her father, her expression composed as her emerald eyes flicked between the faces gathered at the table.

Ragnok rested his clawed hands on the edge of the table, his presence emanating authority and calm. “You have all gathered here for a reason,” he began, his deep voice resonating through the room. “The enchantments that bound you have been lifted, and you now stand freer than you have in decades. But the truths you have uncovered are only the beginning. This chamber exists to grant you the time and space to prepare—for what lies ahead, and for the trials you must face together.”

His gaze swept across the table, lingering briefly on Harley before continuing. “This is no ordinary place. The chamber exists outside the flow of time, a sanctum crafted through ancient magics that defy the laws of the world beyond its walls. Within this space, time moves differently. For every month that passes here, only an hour will elapse outside.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the group. Hermione’s hand shot up instinctively, though she quickly lowered it, her brow furrowing as she considered his words. “A month inside,” she murmured, her voice tinged with both awe and unease. “But only an hour out there? That’s… extraordinary.”

“It’s not just extraordinary, it’s bloody mental,” Ron blurted, his freckled face paling slightly. “A whole month in here? And we’re stuck?”

“Yes,” Ragnok confirmed, his emerald gaze sharp. “The doors of the chamber have sealed, and they will not open until an hour has passed beyond them. Inside this sanctum, you have one month to prepare—to strengthen yourselves, to learn, and to unite.”

Sirius leaned back slightly in his chair, his grey eyes narrowing as he considered Ragnok’s words. “So we’ve got all the time we need,” he said slowly, “but only if we use it wisely. What happens if we don’t?”

“That,” Ragnok said gravely, “is a choice only you can make. The magic of this chamber is vast but finite. Waste it, and you risk being unprepared for what lies ahead.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Ragnok’s words settling over the group. Finally, Harley straightened in her chair, her emerald-green eyes steady as she looked around the table. “We need to use this time,” she said firmly. “Every second of it. There’s something I need to show you—something that will help you understand what we’re up against.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances as Harley placed her hand flat on the table. The soft hum of magic deepened, and the golden light above the table shimmered and warped, forming into the first memory. The air seemed to shift as the projection came to life, vivid and sharp, like a living dream.

The first memory flickered into view: Cedric hit by the killing curse, his body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap. Gasps rippled through the group. Hagrid’s large hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly, his dark eyes shimmering with sorrow.

“Poor lad,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Didn’t deserve tha’. None o’ this.”

The scene shifted. Harley tied to a headstone, her blood dripping onto the cold ground, used in a dark ritual to resurrect Voldemort. Hermione covered her mouth, tears spilling from her wide eyes.

“Oh, Harley,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “That’s… that’s horrible.”

Ron swallowed hard, his freckled face ashen. “That’s mental,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Using your blood like that…”

The next memory appeared: Harley dueling Voldemort, barely surviving as spells crackled through the air. Then, the Daily Prophet declaring her a liar, branding her as an attention-seeker. The whispers of reporters and the glares of the public seemed to echo faintly, and Sirius slammed his hand on the table, his grey eyes blazing.

“Those spineless gits,” he growled. “You’re risking your life, and that’s how they repay you?”

The memory shifted again. The Ministry of Magic placing Harley under house arrest, treating her like a weapon to be wielded. The image of her pacing a dark room played out above the table, and Amelia Bones’s monocle glinted as she spoke.

“Unconscionable,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “To cage someone, to strip them of their agency like that—it’s barbaric.”

Then came a moment that sent shivers through the group: Harley overhearing Dumbledore, the Minister, and Malfoy plotting to chain her to their will, to use her as a broodmare. The whispers of their voices and the cold gleam in Dumbledore’s eyes were sickening. Sirius stiffened visibly, his fists clenching.

“That bastard,” he hissed. “Using you—plotting against you like that… I’ll kill him myself.”

The images flowed relentlessly. Dumbledore killing Sirius and Remus, their bodies crumpling as they fell in her defense. Sirius’s face paled as he watched his own death play out, his breath catching in his chest.

“I’d do it again,” he said hoarsely. “For you, Harley, I’d do it again. But… Remus…”

He trailed off, shaking his head as his voice broke.

The chamber’s golden light continued its steady pulse as the final memory dissolved into nothingness, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. The air thrummed faintly with the lingering resonance of ancient magic, and the group sat motionless, grappling with the weight of everything they had just seen. Around the long, enchanted table, faces were pale, jaws were tight, and the tension was nearly unbearable.

Remus’s rage had ignited the room earlier, his amber eyes still glowing faintly with a feral intensity as he fought to steady his breathing. The devastating image of Sirius and himself collapsing, lifeless, at Dumbledore’s hand hung over him like a storm cloud. Sirius sat beside him, his grey eyes dark with his own fury, but it was clear he was watching his best friend carefully, ready to anchor him if the wolf within grew too wild again.

The silence was broken by the faintest murmur, Hermione whispering “no” under her breath as her tearful eyes locked on the memory that had shown her parents lying lifeless on the ground. Her entire body shook as the vision replayed in her mind.

Ron tightened his grip on her hand, his freckled face twisted with fury. “I swear, Hermione,” he muttered, his voice trembling, “he’ll pay. Dumbledore, Malfoy—any of them who think they can do this. They’ll pay.”

Hermione wiped at her tears and drew in a shuddering breath. Her voice, while shaky, carried steel. “They won’t win,” she said firmly. “We won’t let them. Not this time.”

The golden light above the table flickered slightly, and Hermione let out a small gasp as her parents appeared at the edge of the table, the magic of the chamber summoning them as if it knew she needed them most. Mrs. Granger’s kind eyes glistened as she reached forward, placing her hand on Hermione’s.

“We’re here, darling,” Mrs. Granger said softly. “We’re alive, and we love you. What you saw… it won’t happen.”

Mr. Granger stepped closer, his steady presence comforting as he placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure of it,” he said firmly. “We’ll fight for you, and with you.”

Hermione’s shoulders shook as she reached for them, her tears falling freely now. “I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, clinging to her mother’s hand. “I was so scared.”

“You’re not losing us,” her father said, his voice calm but resolute. “We’re in this together.”

Across the table, the air shifted again as the projection of the Burrow in flames lit up the space. Molly and Arthur Weasley stood side by side, watching in silence as their home—a beacon of love and family—was reduced to rubble. Ron’s face crumpled as he stared at the image.

“Mum… Dad…” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I’d lost everything.”

“You’ll never lose us,” Molly said firmly, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Her voice trembled, but her strength shone through. “Never. The Burrow is just a house, but this family—this family is everything.”

Arthur placed a steady hand on Ron’s back. “The house can burn, son, but our family won’t,” he said softly. “We’ll fight to keep it together.”

Ginny, wiping at her eyes, nodded. “I don’t want to lose anyone,” she said quietly, her voice cracking. “I don’t want to see that happen.”

“You won’t,” Molly said, pulling Ginny into her embrace as well. “We’re a family. As long as we’re together, we’ll survive anything.”

The group was starting to regain their composure when the memory above the table shifted again. Harley’s escape with Draco and Severus played out next, vivid and tense, showing the chaos and danger of the moment. The group watched as Draco shielded her from an incoming curse while Severus barked precise orders, his wand flashing as he cut a path for their escape.

When the memory faded, Severus Snape was the first to speak, his voice as sharp as ever, but this time it carried a different tone—one of curiosity. “I imagine,” he began slowly, his dark eyes narrowing, “that our so-called ‘rescues’ were not merely acts of goodwill, but rather acts of rebellion against the very spellwork that once dictated our actions.”

Draco crossed his arms, his gaze lingering on the spot where the memory had faded. “She said we save her,” he said, his tone more measured than usual, though no less cool. “That we risk everything to do it. The question is… why?”

Harley met their gazes, her emerald-green eyes steady. “The spells you’ve been freed from—that’s why,” she said. “You’ve been manipulated your entire lives—by your families, your alliances, by Dumbledore. Those spells defined the choices you thought you were making. But now… you’re free. And in the future I came from, when the time came, you both chose to fight for something bigger. Something better.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, and for once, his expression wasn’t one of skepticism or disdain. There was something softer there, something curious. “We chose to leave it all behind?” he asked quietly. “The wizarding world, our families… everything?”

“Yes,” Harley said simply. “Because you wanted to be better. You wanted a future that wasn’t dictated by anyone else’s expectations or manipulations. And you found it—not in the wizarding world, but in something else. In survival. In family.”

Severus tilted his head slightly, his dark gaze thoughtful. “You claim that we broke away from the wizarding world entirely,” he said, his tone measured. “That we chose to follow you, to leave behind everything we’ve ever known. And yet…” He leaned back in his chair, his lips curling faintly. “It is… intriguing.”

Draco glanced at Severus, then back at Harley, his own expression softening slightly. “I don’t know what this future holds,” he said slowly. “But if what you’re saying is true—if breaking free of this world means finding something better… maybe it’s worth considering.”

The chamber’s golden light pulsed faintly, as if in agreement. The group exchanged glances, the air around the table charged with emotion and a growing sense of unity. Despite the horrors they had witnessed, they were beginning to see a path forward—a way to fight for each other and the futures they wanted to create.

Harley’s voice broke through the quiet, steady and filled with quiet determination. “We’ve all seen what’s coming. We’ve seen what we stand to lose. But together, we can change everything. We can survive this—and we can protect what matters.”

Around the table, heads nodded in agreement. The resolve in the room was undeniable. They couldn’t change the horrors of Harley’s past—but they could fight to survive the future, side by side.

The golden glow of the chamber pulsed softly, casting its warm light across the long table and the gathered group seated around it. The hum of ancient magic filled the air, resonant and steady, as though it was bearing silent witness to the gravity of their conversation. Harley’s memories—devastating visions of loss, betrayal, and devastation—still lingered vividly in their minds. The group, bonded by shared pain and growing purpose, sat together, waiting to hear what Harley would reveal next.

Harley leaned forward, her emerald-green eyes sweeping across the room. Her gaze lingered on each face—the faces of the people who had become her family, her pack. Everything she had fought for had led to this moment, to this choice she was about to share. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“There’s something I need to say,” Harley began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. The group turned their full attention to her, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned. “When this month is over—when the hour outside the chamber is up—I’m leaving the wizarding world.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. There was a brief silence as the weight of her declaration settled over them. Sirius was the first to respond, leaning forward in his seat, his grey eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, his tone sharp but not unkind. “After everything you’ve fought for, everything you’ve been through, you’re just… walking away?”

Harley’s jaw tightened slightly as she met his gaze, her voice firm as she replied, “I’m not walking away from the fight, Sirius. I’m walking away from the pain. The wizarding world has given me nothing but betrayal and heartache. Everything I’ve lost—my parents, you, Remus, Hermione’s family, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms—all of it happened here. This world has taken everything from me, and for what? Because I don’t fit into its perfect mold?”

Her voice softened as she looked around the table, letting her gaze linger on each of them in turn. “The only people I care about anymore are in this room. You’re my family. And I won’t let this world take you from me too. I don’t owe it anything anymore.”

The heavy silence returned, her words striking deeply. Sirius leaned back suddenly in his chair, surprising the group as his expression softened into a grin—rare but warm.

“You know what?” he said, his voice carrying a lightness that hadn’t been present earlier. “I think it’s a bloody brilliant idea.”

Harley blinked, startled. “You… you do?”

Sirius nodded, his grin widening into something more genuine. “Absolutely. You’re right, Harley. This world hasn’t given you anything but grief. And honestly? I’m tired of it too. I’m tired of hiding, tired of being treated like a criminal for things I didn’t do. If leaving means freedom—a chance to spend time with my cub without constantly looking over my shoulder—then I’m all for it.”

His words brought a rare, soft chuckle from Remus. The werewolf’s amber eyes glinted faintly in the light as he spoke, his tone quieter but no less firm. “Sirius is right,” he said. “The wizarding world isn’t kind to people like us. I’ve spent my whole life fighting to be accepted by a society that barely tolerates me. But now I have a pack—and that pack is here in this room. You’re my family, Harley. You’re my pack. And as alpha, it’s my job to protect the pack.”

Remus’s gaze swept across the room, resting briefly on Sirius, Harley, and the others before continuing. “Leaving isn’t just the right move, Harley,” he said, his tone resolute. “It’s the best move for the pack. It’s how we keep everyone safe. It’s how we build a future where the old rules don’t apply.”

Harley’s voice softened as she looked at him. “Thank you,” she said. “That means everything to me.”

The ripple effect of Remus’s conviction was immediate. Hermione, seated beside Ron, nodded quickly, her voice trembling slightly as she said, “I’m with you, Harley. I want to help build that future.”

Ron followed, his freckled face tight with determination. “Me too,” he said firmly. “The wizarding world hasn’t exactly been kind to us either. If you’re leaving, we’re leaving with you.”

Ginny spoke next, her voice quieter but equally resolute. “I’m not staying in a world that hurt you like this,” she said. “You’re my sister, Harley. My family.”

Molly Weasley, sitting beside Arthur, reached across the table to place her hand over Harley’s, her voice trembling but firm. “You’ve been through more than anyone should have to bear, Harley,” she said. “If you’re leaving this world behind, then we’re going with you. All of us.”

Arthur nodded beside her, his voice steady. “She’s right,” he said. “You’re family, and family sticks together.”

Across the table, Bill Weasley leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful but resolute. “If we’re leaving the wizarding world, then Fleur’s coming with me,” he said. “She’ll want to be part of this.”

Percy nodded quietly, his usual formality softening. “And Penelope,” he added. “She deserves the chance to survive.”

Charlie, sitting near his family, leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on the table. “You’ve got me too,” he said. “The pack is where I belong.”

Neville followed quickly, his round face set in determination as he nodded. “Me too,” he said. “This world hasn’t been kind to my family or me. I’m with the pack.”

Luna tilted her head, her expression serene. “It makes sense to go with the pack,” she said simply. “It feels like the right path.”

Her father, Xenophilius, clapped lightly, a bright smile on his face. “Where Luna goes, I go,” he said. “This pack is extraordinary—truly poetic.”

Augusta Longbottom’s dignified posture remained unchanged, but her sharp eyes carried newfound resolve. “If Neville is part of this pack,” she said firmly, “then so am I. I’ll follow my grandson.”

Moody grunted, his magical eye whirring slightly as it scanned the room. “You’ve got me too,” he said simply. “This pack knows what matters.”

Augusta, ever practical, added quickly, “But we will need to address how to move Frank and Alice. Their care requires precision. I won’t risk their condition worsening.”

King Ragnok stood, his emerald gaze sweeping the room as he inclined his head slightly. “Your concerns are valid, Lady Longbottom,” he said. “As Harley Potter’s family, the goblin nation will assist. I will send one of our healers to examine Frank and Alice. They will assess their condition and ensure safe transport when the time comes.”

Augusta’s sharp expression softened, and she nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” she said. “That will make all the difference.”

Ragnok straightened slightly, his regal presence commanding as he addressed the room. “You have chosen to stand with Harley Potter,” he said. “And in doing so, you stand with one who holds the rarest honor among the goblin nation. Harley Potter is not only an Eternal Goblin Friend, but she is my adopted daughter.”

Gasps rippled around the table, and Sirius let out a low whistle. “Your adopted daughter?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

“Yes,” Ragnok said simply. “This bond is forged in trust and earned through acts of honor. As her family, you are extended the same respect. The training offered to Harley—combat, swordplay, goblin healing, warding, and goblin magic—is now offered to all of you.”

Harley glanced around the table, her emerald-green gaze meeting each face in turn. “I’ll be taking every lesson I can,” she said firmly. “Every skill, every bit of knowledge—anything that helps us survive. I hope you’ll join me.”

Hermione nodded resolutely. “This training could save lives,” she said. “I’m in.”

Ron followed quickly. “Me too,” he said. “No question.”

Neville glanced at his gran, then at Harley. “I want to be ready,” he said. “Count me in.”

Remus’s amber eyes glinted faintly as he added, “Let’s make this month count—for the pack.”

The chamber’s hum deepened, and its golden light shimmered faintly as the group exchanged glances. A sense of unity, of shared purpose, began to bloom among them. Together, they would face whatever lay ahead, armed with strength, knowledge, and the bonds that made them a family—a pack.