Breaking Chains
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across Wiltshire's rolling hills as Harry approached Malfoy Manor. From his vantage point among the clouds, the ancestral home of the Malfoy family looked more like a beautiful prison than the symbol of pureblood supremacy it had once been. His enhanced vision caught the shimmer of Ministry wards, a web of monitoring and restriction spells that covered the grounds like a suffocating blanket.
Harry's wings adjusted automatically to the wind currents, scales gleaming as he circled the perimeter. The silver pendant from Sirius hung cool against his chest, its old magic working to mask his magical signature from the Ministry's detection spells. According to Remus's notes, the next patrol wouldn't pass through for another thirty minutes—plenty of time to find a way inside.
The mate bond pulled at him insistently now, stronger than ever. Through it, he could feel a complex tangle of emotions: resignation warring with desperate hope, pride battling against bone-deep exhaustion, and underneath it all, a familiar acid bite of betrayal that matched his own.
I'm here, he sent through the bond, letting his certainty and protection flow freely. I'm coming for you, Draco.
The answering surge of emotion nearly knocked him from the sky—shock, disbelief, and a wild, terrified hope that felt like the first breath after drowning. Harry's wings snapped wide to steady himself as Draco's voice, faint but unmistakable, whispered through their connection:
Potter? It can't be... they said you'd never...
The words faded into a jumble of fractured memories: Dumbledore's twinkling eyes as he cast subtle compulsions, McGonagall's confusion as she enforced house rivalries that felt increasingly artificial, Snape's barely hidden desperation as he played his assigned role in keeping them apart...
Harry's wings trembled with rage at each new revelation, but he forced himself to focus on the present. They lied, and he sent back firmly. About everything. But I'm here now, and I'm getting you out.
He banked lower, using his inherited magic to sense the weaknesses in the Manor's wards. The Malfoy family magic recognized him—interesting, that—but the Ministry's monitoring spells were another matter. They'd alert the Aurors the moment he tried to cross them, pendant or no pendant.
Unless...
Harry closed his eyes, reaching for the powerful magic that had awakened his inheritance. He was Lord Potter-Black now, heir to all four founders, with creature blood that sang of freedom and protection. The very magic that had been bound and suppressed for so long now rose eagerly to his call.
Can you feel the Manor's wards? he sent to Draco. Not the Ministry's monitoring spells, but the original family protections?
A pause, then: Yes. They're... different since my inheritance. More alive. But I can't access them fully, not with these restraints...
Focus on them anyway, Harry instructed, dropping lower still. Your Veela blood should recognize mine. Let the Manor's magic know I'm not a threat.
He felt Draco's surprise at Harry knowing about his creature's inheritance, followed by determination. Through their strengthening bond, Harry sensed him reaching for the ancient wards, his own newly awakened power calling to the Manor's protections.
The effect was immediate. A shimmer of golden light rippled through the property's magical defences, separate from the Ministry's monitoring web. Harry dove through the gap it created, his wings cutting through chartered protection spells like tissue paper. The Manor's magic welcomed him, recognizing both his lordship and his intentions toward its heir.
He landed on a third-floor balcony, wings folding close as he pressed against the Manor's stone walls. Through the bond, he felt Draco's presence just two rooms away. But he also felt his mate's increasing agitation, an edge of panic creeping in.
What's wrong? Harry demanded, already moving toward the French doors.
Monitoring charms, Draco sent back tersely. In every room. They'll know the moment I try to leave and the suppression cuffs...
Harry's rage flared hot enough that his scales briefly glowed. Suppression cuffs—magical restraints that dampened a wizard's power, usually reserved for the worst criminals in Azkaban. They'd put them on Draco, a barely legal punishment justified by his family's war crimes but meant to contain his emerging creature inheritance...
How many monitoring charms? he asked, forcing his anger down to focus on the immediate problem.
Seventeen in this wing alone. Tied to proximity alarms if I get too close to any exit. A bitter laugh echoed through the bond. They said it was for my "protection" after the war. Keeping out anyone who might seek revenge...
While keeping you trapped, Harry finished grimly. Perfect excuse for isolation, making it easier to maintain the memory charms and compulsions. He could feel Draco's agreement, along with a complicated tangle of emotions about his family's role in their imprisonment.
Harry pulled his father's journal from an enchanted pocket, quickly flipping to a passage he'd marked earlier: Dragon magic at its core is about freedom and protection. It can break any chain, and shield any heart if the need is great enough...
Right. Time to see just how much power his inheritance had given him.
I'm going to try something, he warned Draco. When I give the signal, head for the balcony. Don't worry about the alarms.
He felt Draco's wordless acknowledgement, tinged with trust that made his heart clench. How long had they fought against this connection, never realizing their rivalry was built on carefully constructed lies?
Harry spread his wings to their full span, letting his inherited magic flow freely. Scales shimmed with power as he reached out to the monitoring charms, not trying to disable them but temporarily overwhelm them. Dragon magic met Ministry spellwork in a cascade of power that set every magical sensor in the wing screaming—but not with Draco's magical signature.
Now! he sent through the bond, maintaining the magical overload.
He felt Draco moving even as distant alarms began to sound. The monitoring charms, overwhelmed by Harry's power, couldn't distinguish Draco's movement from the general magical chaos. Three steps, two, one...
The French doors burst open and Harry got his first clear look at his mate.
Draco had changed since the war, in ways that had nothing to do with his Veela inheritance. He was thinner and paler, with shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and constant strain. The suppression cuffs gleamed dully on his wrists, ugly things that had no business touching any magical being, let alone a creature of light and air.
But his eyes... his eyes blazed with desperate hope and recognition as they met Harry's. Silver wings, translucent and ethereal compared to Harry's scaled ones, pressed tight against his back—bound but not broken by the Ministry's restrictions.
For a moment they just stared at each other, years of forced animosity crumbling in the face of their true connection. Then the Manor's wards rippled with warning as the first Auror response team arrived at the gates.
"Time to go," Harry said aloud, stepping forward. "Do you trust me?"
Draco's laugh held an edge of hysteria. "Isn't that the question we should have been asking years ago? Before they made us forget how to?"
"We'll remember everything now," Harry promised, reaching for him. "No more chains, no more lies." His wings curved forward protectively as he examined the suppression cuffs. "These first..."
He pressed his palm to the heavy manacles, letting his dragon magic flare hot and bright. The cuffs, designed to resist normal unlocking spells, stood no chance against inherited power meant to break any bonds that caged the soul. They fell away with a deeply satisfying clank.
Draco gasped as his magic rushed back, his silver wings snapping wide with sudden freedom. The Veela in him called to the dragon in Harry, creature to creature, mate to mate. Without the suppression cuffs blocking it, their bond blazed like a supernova.
"Potter," Draco managed, swaying slightly as years of compressed magic sought new equilibrium. "Harry. They're coming. I can feel the Manor's wards..."
"Let them come," Harry growled, pulling Draco close as his wings spread for flight. "They can't cage us anymore. Neither of us."
Draco's arms went around his neck without hesitation, trust overwhelming ingrained caution. "The tracking charms... they'll follow..."
"Not where we're going." Harry's wings caught the wind as he stepped onto the balcony rail. "Sirius and Remus are gathering allies. The goblins have evidence. And I have access to Hogwarts now, as heir to the founders. Every memory charm, every compulsion spell, every manipulation... it's all recorded in the castle's magic."
He felt Draco's fierce satisfaction through their bond. "They'll pay? All of them?"
"Justice this time," Harry promised, tightening his hold as boots thundered through distant corridors. "Real justice, not more manipulation." He sent a pulse of pure protection through their bond. "Ready?"
Draco's wings flexed, already adjusting to complement Harry's larger ones. "Get me out of here," he whispered. "Take me home."
Harry launched them into the sky just as the first stunning spells lit up the balcony. His wings caught an updraft, carrying them higher as more Aurors spilt onto the grounds below. A few token spells followed them up, but Harry's dragon magic deflected them easily.
Through their bond, he felt Draco's exhilaration at true flight, at freedom after so long caged. His mate's silver wings spread wider, working in perfect harmony with Harry's darker ones to catch the wind currents.
As they soared higher into the afternoon sky, Draco's grip suddenly tightened. "Wait," he gasped, a new wave of anxiety flooding their bond. "Mother—we can't leave her there. She's been fighting the compulsions too, ever since Father..."
Harry banked in a wide circle, keeping them high above the chaos at the Manor. Through their bond, he caught flashes of Narcissa: standing between Draco and Ministry officials, subtly undermining their surveillance, fighting through memory charms that tried to make her forget her own son's true nature...
"Where is she now?" Harry asked, wings adjusting to hover them in place.
"Greenhouse Three," Draco replied immediately. "She spends most afternoons there. The Ministry's monitoring is lighter because of all the magical plants interfering with their detection spells." His silver wings trembled against Harry's. "She's been protecting me as much as she could, even through the memory charms. I think... I think seeing my Veela transformation started breaking through her compulsions."
Harry's enhanced vision picked out the greenhouse in question—a crystalline structure half-hidden behind carefully maintained hedges. His dragon magic sensed a single figure inside, her magical signature distinctly family despite the dampening effects of Ministry restrictions.
"We're not leaving her," Harry decided firmly. Through their bond, he felt Draco's relief and fierce love for his mother. "Can you fly on your own now that the suppression cuffs are off?"
Draco's silver wings spread wider, testing their strength. "Yes, but the tracking charms..."
"Will lead them exactly where we want," Harry finished with a grim smile. "Draw their attention while I get to the greenhouse. The pendant from Sirius will keep me hidden as long as I'm not using obvious magic."
He felt Draco's immediate understanding through their bond, along with a surge of Slytherin cunning that made his dragon magic purr in appreciation. They had been perfectly matched, before all the manipulation...
"Be careful," Draco warned as they separated. "Mother's been wandless since the trials. They'll have monitoring charms on her too."
Harry's wings flared with protective anger. They'd taken Narcissa's wand—a pureblood witch's wand—under the guise of post-war restrictions. Just another way to control and isolate the family while maintaining the appearance of justice.
Go, he sent through their bond. Make it look good.
Draco flashed him a familiar smirk before diving toward the Manor's front gates, his silver wings catching the light brilliantly. As planned, the Auror response team immediately focused on the more visible target, sending stunning spells and binding hexes that Draco dodged with inherited grace.
Harry tucked his wings close and dropped to the ground behind the hedgerow, letting Sirius's pendant mask his magical signature. He could hear shouts and spell fire from the front of the property as Draco led their pursuers on a merry chase, his Veela speed and agility making him an impossible target.
The greenhouse door was warded, but the Manor's family magic still recognized him. It swung open silently at his touch, admitting him to a humid space filled with carefully tended magical plants. And there, in a pool of afternoon sunlight, stood Narcissa Malfoy.
She turned at his entrance, and Harry was struck by how much had changed since the war. Like Draco, she was thinner, paler, with an ethereal quality that spoke of suppressed magic straining for freedom. But her eyes were sharp and aware as they met his, showing none of the confusion he'd expect from someone under active memory charms.
"Lord Potter-Black," she greeted softly, her gaze lingering on his wings. "I've been wondering when you would come for him."
Harry's enhanced senses caught the subtle tremor in her voice—hope warring with bone-deep exhaustion. "You remember," he realized. "You've been fighting the compulsions."
"Since the moment they tried to make me forget my own son's nature." Narcissa's smile held bitter triumph. "They underestimated a mother's love once before, with Lily Potter. You'd think they'd have learned."
Through their bond, Harry felt Draco's fierce pride in his mother, along with an edge of worry as the Aurors began casting wider nets to catch him. Hurry, his mate sent. They're calling for backup.
"We need to go," Harry said aloud, extending his hand to Narcissa. "Can you fly?"
"Not like you and Draco," she admitted. "But I have enough Veela blood to manage short distances if these restrictions..." She gestured to the delicate silver chains on her wrists, similar to but less severe than the cuffs they'd put on Draco.
Harry's dragon magic flared, shattering her bonds as it had her son's. Narcissa gasped as her magic rushed back, small iridescent wings shimmering into view behind her shoulders.
"Beautiful," she breathed, flexing them experimentally. "I'd almost forgotten..."
"Mother!" Draco's mental voice held increasing urgency. They're sealing the boundaries!
Harry wrapped one arm around Narcissa's waist, his larger wings spreading wide. "Hold on," he instructed. "Draco's created enough chaos that they won't be watching this side, but we'll need to move fast."
She gripped his shoulder without hesitation, her wings adjusting to complement his. Through their bond, Harry sent their position to Draco, feeling his mate bank sharply to join them.
They burst from the greenhouse just as the first containment wards started snapping into place. Harry's wings caught an updraft, carrying them above the hedges as Draco dove to flank them, his silver wings flashing defiance at their pursuers.
"The Ministry tracking charms..." Narcissa began, but Harry cut her off with a grim smile.
"Won't matter once we're behind the Black family wards," he assured her. "Sirius has been busy reclaiming his inheritance. And with three of us carrying Black blood..." He felt her understanding as they soared higher, magic recognizing magic.
Through their bond, Draco's satisfaction blazed bright. They never knew about the Old Ways, he sent. About how family magic trumps Ministry restrictions every time.
They forgot a lot of things, Harry agreed, banking northeast with Draco flying in perfect formation beside them. But people are remembering now. Starting with us.
He felt Narcissa's quiet approval, her magic harmonizing with their bond now that she was free of restrictions. She had been a daughter of the House of Black before anything else, raised in traditions that predated the Ministry itself. That knowledge would be invaluable in the days to come.
They flew in silence for a while, leaving Wiltshire and its watching eyes far behind. Harry's wings carried them surely toward London, toward the sanctuary of Grimmauld Place and the allies gathering there. Through their bond, he felt Draco processing everything that had happened, everything that had been revealed. His mate's emotions were a complex tangle of relief, anger, hope, and fierce protectiveness—especially toward his mother.
"The others who were controlled," Narcissa said finally, her voice carrying easily despite their altitude. "The ones still trapped behind memory charms and compulsions... we'll help them?"
"All of them," Harry promised. "Starting with the families most affected by the war. The ones Dumbledore used as pieces in his game of control."
He felt Draco's sharp interest. The Parkinsons, his mate sent. Pansy's been fighting something she couldn't name. And Theo Nott...
Sirius and Remus are already reaching out to potential allies, Harry assured him. The ones showing signs of breaking free. And with your mother's knowledge of the Old Ways...
We'll need to move quickly, Narcissa added, and Harry realized she'd been included in their mental connection through their shared Black blood. Once they realize we've escaped, they'll try to strengthen their hold on the others.
Let them try, Harry sent back, his dragon magic flaring protective and fierce. We know the truth now. And we're not alone anymore.
He felt their agreement, their shared determination to right the wrongs that had been done. Together they flew toward home and justice, three sets of wings catching the light of truth's dawning.
Below them, magical Britain trembled on the edge of great change. But up here, in the wild freedom of the sky, there was only family and destiny and the absolute certainty that everything was about to be set right.
Finally, they thought as one, we're truly free.