The Cauldron's Bounty

But fate had other plans for them.

As the night grew darker, a sudden commotion outside the restaurant drew their attention. The distant wail of sirens pierced the air, and Harry felt his heart drop. The Lonestar team burst through the doors of The Cauldron's Bounty, Captain Strand at the lead, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of horror and urgency.

"Fire!" someone screamed from the kitchen, and in an instant, the warm embrace of their haven was replaced by the frenetic chaos of an inferno. The air grew thick with smoke, and the smell of burning wood and fabric filled their nostrils as flames licked the walls. Harry's heart raced as he spotted a terrified Teddy cowering under a table.

With a shout, Captain Strand and his team rushed to the rescue, apparating directly into the burning building. Harry tried to stand, but his legs gave out from under him, his body screaming in pain from burns he hadn't even felt in the heat of the moment. The fire was everywhere, the flames dancing a deadly ballet around him, and he knew he had to get to his godson before it was too late.

Paul, noticing Harry's distress, dashed over, his eyes wide with fear. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Teddy!" Harry choked out, the smoke stinging his lungs. "Get him out!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Paul dove under the table, his fireproof jacket from the 911 team billowing around him as he scooped up the trembling child. The heat was intense, the roar of the flames growing louder, and the air thick with choking smoke. Captain Strand and his team worked tirelessly, casting spells that extinguished the flames with an eerie hiss. The room grew brighter as the fire retreated, revealing the charred remains of the once vibrant restaurant.

When the smoke cleared, Harry lay unconscious on the floor, his body marred by painful burns. Captain Strand's expression was a mix of shock and relief as he bent down to check Harry's pulse. "We've got to get him out of here," he shouted, his voice a command that brooked no argument. The team sprang into action, carefully lifting Harry onto a stretcher that one of the team members conjured from thin air.

Paul followed closely, clutching Teddy tightly to his chest, his eyes never leaving Harry's face.

Once outside, the cool night air hit Harry like a wave, reviving him slightly. He coughed violently, the acrid taste of smoke coating his mouth and throat. His vision swam with spots, but he forced himself to focus on the concerned faces hovering over him. "Teddy," he managed to croak. "Is he okay?"

Paul nodded, tears in his own eyes. "Thanks to you, Harry," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The Lone Star Team wasted no time in assessing the damage. The restaurant was a blackened shell, but the support group was safe, huddled outside in a mix of shock and relief. Captain Strand took charge, his face a mask of calm authority as he directed his team to attend to the injured.

As Harry was lifted onto the stretcher, his eyes searched for Paul and Teddy, finding them safe in the arms of the burly fireman who had been by his side. The pain from his burns was intense, but the sight of their unscathed faces was a balm to his soul. The world swirled around him as the team apparated them away from the ruins, the cool night air replaced by the antiseptic scent of a hospital.

The muggle hospital was a stark contrast to the magical world Harry was accustomed to, with its gleaming metal surfaces and buzzing machines. The firefighters worked quickly, their faces a blur of efficiency and concern as they transferred him to a hospital bed. Harry tried to protest, knowing that his burns would heal faster with magic, but Captain Strand was insistent. "You're in no shape to move, Harry," he said firmly. "Let them do their job."

Paul hovered by Harry's side, his hand tight on the railing of the bed, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. The muggle doctor began his assessment, peeling away the charred fabric of Harry's shirt with gentle but firm hands. Harry gritted his teeth against the pain, his eyes locked on Paul's, silently apologizing for the secrets he had kept.

The doctor spoke in rapid-fire medical jargon, but the gravity of his tone was clear. Captain Strand translated for them, explaining that Harry had second-degree burns over a substantial portion of his body and would need to be monitored closely. The doctor's gaze lingered on Harry's injuries, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes that suggested he had never seen burns quite like these before.

Paul looked on in horror, his hand moving to cover his mouth as the reality of the situation sank in. Harry reached out, his own hand trembling, and gripped Paul's wrist. "It's okay," he whispered, trying to infuse the words with a strength he didn't feel. "I'll be okay."

But as the doctor and nurses swarmed around him, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at his gut. The muggle world was about to get a close-up look at the kind of heroics that belonged in a comic book, not in a muggle hospital. He knew that he couldn't risk exposing his magical nature, not just for his own safety, but for the sake of everyone he held dear.

With a tremendous effort, Harry focused his dwindling magical energy to cast a mild pain relief charm on himself. The burns on his skin continued to throb, but the pain dulled enough to allow him to think clearly. He had to tell Paul the truth, to explain why he was different. But how could he do that without shattering the life they had built together?

The chaos of the hospital grew quieter as the night progressed, the constant beeping of machines and the murmur of nurses' conversations lulling Harry into a fitful sleep. When he woke, it was to the soft light of dawn peeking through the blinds and the gentle snoring of Paul, who had curled up in a chair beside him. The love and concern etched into his partner's face was a stark reminder of what was at stake.