➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟐 “𝘼 𝙇𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙊𝙣 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙢𝙗𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙃𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮”
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The night was cold, but the air around them somehow retained its warmth. Perhaps it was their familiarity that bred the comfort, because their family had been barren ground for contempt. Walking with his grandfather always felt that way.
But no matter how comforted he felt in the chilly breeze that welcomed the soon-arriving autumn, Nicolás’ attention was hooked on Abu Pedro’s voice. It was overly obvious his grandfather meant something by taking him out of the house. There was something to be discussed.
“What do you know about Spirit Magic?” Abu Pedro finally inquired, once they were surrounded by trees.
Nicolás thought for a moment, trying to ignore the rumbling noise coming from the house. But little could be done to demean Caelum’s so rightful enthusiasm for being picked Prefect, nor his own father’s excitement for being hired as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
They’ve had a whole mini party on their own before Carolina delivered Harry to the Weasleys. Everyone was ecstatic, not just because it was like a dream job for Remus to teach—especially at Hogwarts—but because maybe now the youngsters would have someone trustworthy close to them at all times.
“I've read about it a few times, Dorian managed to smuggle me a book from the Malfoys, but Castelobruxo had much more research on the topic,” Nicolás started. “I know it’s difficult because you basically seek the aid of spirits, which could be either of great help or greatly harmful.”
“Why?” Pedro asked. And Nicolás knew he was being tested.
Abu Pedro was always like this. First seeking to know how much one knew about the topic at hand before even disclosing what he intended to say. Nicolás respected that. It evidentially saved a lot of voice.
“Because The Fade is a treacherous place. It hosts all kinds of spirits, from the most benevolent Spirit of Compassion to the most seething Rage Demon. You don’t meddle with The Fade unless you are at peace with the risk of becoming an Abomination,” Nicolás answered, before crouching to scratch Ember’s head. “I’ve read about Spirit Healers, you know. It’s fascinating the way they can direct power from spirits towards healing, it has saved people at the brink of death. It's sad there are so few currently.”
“And why do you think that is?” asked Pedro, crouching too, but choosing—to the Wampus Cat's utter delight—to pat Ember's bum.
“Because most of them end up being possessed,” Nicolás said, standing up to continue their stroll. “A guidebook I found at Castelobruxo said that one only has a certain time while seeking aid from spirits before being sensed by demons. Specially Desire Demons.”
“Ugh, nasty things those ones are,” grumbled Abu Pedro with a laugh.
“Yeah, so I’ve read,” Nicolás chuckled. “Anyways, what does that have to do with anything? I’m still waiting to see how you connect all of this to Riddle’s diary.”
Abu Pedro beamed. “Clever boy, aren’t you?” he laughed, ruffling Nicolás’ hair. “Maybe too smart for your own good.”
Nicolás barked a laugh, “Well, Riddle did say that.”
Abu Pedro sobered for a moment, before talking again. “You see, Spirit Magic is generally used for good, as you know. It’s only possession that makes it a risk, but never the practice itself. However, there are other methods to turn this magic dark. There’s this branch, it was very silenced, called Soul Magic. Ever heard of it?”
“Soul Magic? Is that another name for Spirit Magic?” Nicolás inquired. But of course, instead of simply answering, his grandfather only gave him that trusting and measured look that told him he knew Nicolás could figure it out himself. And so, he tried.
“Spirit… soul. A spirit is an inhabitant of The Fade, but a soul? Our soul is trapped in our body,” Nicolás rambled, Abu Pedro nodded him to continue. “Are you saying that this thing, this Soul Magic, seeks to meddle not with spirits from the other side, but with the souls inhabiting human beings?”
“Precisely.”
“But – But... what would its purpose be? To control someone? The Imperius Curse already exists for that.”
“The thing is, Soul Magic is not done on others, but rather on oneself,” explained Abu Pedro. “The soul is a very abstract thing, is not like a spirit, something that already exists out there. Our souls inhabit our bodies, but they don’t come from our bodies, so it’s very limited what we can do with it.”
“Okay…” Nicolás said. “That’s great for educational purposes, but I don’t suppose this stroll was done only to tell me that.”
Abu Pedro looked at him for a moment, before finally asking, “Do you believe in immortality?”
That last question landed on Nicolás like a punch in the gut. It was unexpected. He spent seconds thinking hard on it as he looked at Ember and how he stretched his back like a house cat; a six-legged puma-sized house cat. Hopefully, the Wampus Cat would never hear him making such an offensive comparison.
“Phoenixes are considered to be somewhat immortal. Through their process of sickening, followed by their Burning Day, and when they are reborn, it's like they begin a new life, without forgetting the last one,” Nicolás said. “There’s also the Philosopher’s Stone, which produces the Elixir of Life, but that’s only because the stone is considered the most perfect expression of Alchemy, which is considered the most perfect form of magic,” he paused for a moment. “But that’s about it. Immortality is something unnatural, it goes against life itself. It is a law of balance, muggle and magical, everything that starts must have an ending. That’s the reason every spell, hex, and curse has a counter spell or a counter curse. All except for the Killing Curse.”
“And if you can’t counter curse death, what can one do about it?” inquired Abu Pedro.
“You mean, to prevent death?” Nicolás asked. Abu Pedro nodded. “I mean, it’s impossible to bring a person back from the death, it would only make a Ghoul or an Inferi. The only way would be to make something before, so that you can’t die. But as I said, there’s no natural method to do just that, it’s simply unnatural.”
“Well, you got one right, and one wrong,” Abu Pedro said. Nicolás frowned at him, questioning. “It is unnatural to not die. But there is something one can do, albeit very desperate, to prevent death. There are these things called Horcruxes. They are created when a fragment of one’s soul is placed on an object. The soul, being divided, can never truly die, unless you destroy the diverse fragments.”
“How did you hear of it?” inquired Nicolás. That sounded like the darkest and most twisted form of magic, and Nicolás couldn’t help but feel as worry crept up his spine.
“I went to some, rather long stretches, and contacted some old family friends, back in Colombia, I hadn’t seen in ages. Tell me, Nico, what do you know about our family?”
“What I’ve been taught,” Nicolás shrugged.
“Then, I think it's time you are introduced to our family’s history,” Pedro said, and before Nicolás could argue Caelum’s noticeable absence, his grandfather spoke, “And don’t worry about Caelum, this conversation will be slightly different for him.
“You see, our family has a most rich and old ancestry. You know, Castelobruxo was built even before Hogwarts, but our wizarding communities are older than that. It dates back to the first civilizations of our lands, when there wasn’t distinctiveness between regions, no more than the names of the tribes. There were, at one time, from among all the indigenous tribes of our Colombia, only eight bloodlines that had the gift of magic.
“Even if they lived in different regions, they had an agreement, a way of working which provided them with prosperity. There were The Zipa, the rulers. Their most trusted advisors, The Intiwayra, the path of the sun, and The We'sx, those of the heavens. The Nanashq, the seers, their oracles. The Tshe'x, the death, and The Fiba, those in charge of the transition to The Beyond. Their most unknown tribe, The Llanthu, the shadow ones. And at last, the tribe that has passed their gift down to us, The Hampiq, the wizards.”
“But weren’t they all wizards?” Nicolás inquired.
“Yes, they were,” Pedro answered. “Each tribe was specialized in a branch of magic like the Nanashq with divination, or a role, like the Zipa ruling. But there was one tribe the others never quite understood, one that the others could never learn from. They called themselves The Wizards, because of it,” he made a pause. “The Hampiq possessed the gift of communication. And their communication didn’t stop with humans, it extended toward animals, and magical creatures alike, what we call Creature Tongue.”
“Is that why we run a Magical Creature Reserve?”
“Well, right now, the original tribe is extinct, as all the other ones are, thanks to the Spanish colonizers and the establishment of the Kingdom of the New Granada. But that doesn’t mean their blood did not keep running, generation after generation.”
“Then why doesn’t Caelum have our gift?”
“Because he is not only a descendant of our bloodline. He is a Black. And the Black family has a very long story, very much intertwined with Dark Magic. Caelum has his own gift, his own magical inheritance, just like you have yours.”
Nicolás stopped for a few minutes. His grandfather let him, it was time for him to start taking in what he heard, and to let it sink in.
“But that’s not the point I’m aiming at. The only tribe that has survived for so long, is The Llanthu, those who live in the shadows. They conferred to me their ages-long-kept knowledge. It was from them that I discovered about the Horcruxes, but they know them by another name, Sisay Yuyay, a split soul. I made a quick trip to Bulgaria, as they are so open about the Dark Arts, and thanks to a shot of Felix Felicis, I came across a book, Secrets of the Darkest Art, describing all about Horcruxes.
“The process of creating a Horcrux is ritualistic, it involves killing someone, the person then uses that death to fragment their soul, and then, using an object of choice, they ‘deposit’ that fragment of their soul in said object. Now, if their physical body is damaged or perishes, that fragment, still tied to an object, stops the person from dying,” Abu Pedro concluded.
“And do you – you think it can be done more times?”
“Multiple Horcruxes?” Pedro asked wide-eyed, alarm written all along his face. “You mean, to fragment the soul in many pieces?”
“Is just that – I don’t know – when we were at Grimmauld Place, Caelum mentioned feeling a similar energy as Riddle’s diary.”
“You mean, there’s maybe another Horcrux there? You and Caelum have been there more times! Why haven’t you told us?” he looked alarmed with worry.
“Caelum’s been trying to get Kreacher to tell us, but he doesn’t budge. That is why we’ve been researching about Regulus Black. He’s the one Kreacher always names when we ask about it.”
“Regulus was a Death Eater,” Pedro rationalizes to himself. “But he never fought against the Order. He died the year Harry was born, he was the one to warn them, but…”
“But what?” pressed Nicolás.
“Have you asked Kreacher about this cave you two saw?”
“We did. I mean, Caelum did. But not so directly. He only asked if Kreacher had ever been to a cave, but he only started to whimper about his Master Regulus again, hitting his head against the floor, so we just talked about something else.”
Pedro thought for a moment. “Then the cave must be real. He probably went there with Regulus, and his master must have ordered him to not talk about the cave.”
“But that won’t take us anywhere for now,” Nicolás whined. “Did you read how to destroy Horcruxes?”
“The magic used to create them makes the object practically indestructible. Only things that damage anything beyond any point of restoration can destroy them.”
“Like Basilisk venom,” Nicolás said, thinking back to the Chamber of Secrets, at how Harry stabbed the diary with the Basilisk fang, and destroyed a fragment of Riddle’s soul.
“And Fiendfyre,” Abu Pedro added.
“That’s very advanced Dark Magic,” Nicolás noted, the worry that was creeping up his spine now scraping his midbrain and sending a storm of alarms in his brain. “But what if Voldemort actually made more than just one Horcrux?”
“If we really want to stop him, once and for all, we’ll have to hunt them,” Pedro said solemnly.
“That won’t be easy,” Nicolás noted.
“I never said it would, but it’s something you shall not worry your mind with. We’re still yet to hear of Sirius, and you have yet another school year in which you must focus, more than the others if I may say.”
Nicolás chuckled. “I know. I’m still waiting for a response to my request for Ministry evaluators for my Potions and Divination OWLs. I’m not letting my academic future be in the hands of an asshole nor a fraud,” he said, grumbling the last part.
His grandfather only laughed, and resting a hand on Nicolás’ shoulder, they walked back home, ready to rest.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
“Do you want to remind me why you’re so adamant in doing this?” Remus asked calmly, as he entered the room, taking the chair next to his son.
In front of them was a large piece of parchment. On it, the black ink traced countless, and perfectly symmetrical, lines and designs, giving a perfectly accurate rendition of Hogwarts Castle. Every single line, nook, and cranny perfectly traced.
“Well, the idea sparked in my mind, and I thought, well, why not?” Nicolás shrugged. “And I still want to pass down the original to Harry, so, I need this for personal use.”
Harry had spent so many years without any token from his parents' history, and the moment Nicolás knew of such, he swore himself to make the utmost of his capability to ensure that never happened again. First were the photos he gave Harry alongside the Invisibility Cloak, next came Uncle James' old books, and now was this, the Marauder's Map.
“Have you thought of a name?” Remus asked with deep curiosity.
“A name? A name for what?” Nicolás asked, furrowing his brow.
“For the map, obviously,” Remus said.
Nicolás rolled his eyes. “Dad, I’m making nothing but a vile copy of the Marauder’s Map, I won’t be taking the credit from these young and wise servants of the upcoming troublemakers,” he said, pointing at the space in the map that named ‘Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,’ as if his father wasn't one of them.
“I also don’t have a pack of troublemakers to name the thing, so, the map will stay just as you guys baptized it,” Nicolás added. “Now, it took me a whole day to copy this thing perfectly, so, it better work.”
Remus laughed. “Did you study the charm?”
“Yes. You don’t remember the exact incantation, but I think I discovered one that’ll work.”
“How so?” Remus asked, shooting his eyebrows upward.
“Well, the Homunculus Charm won’t work on its own. Direction is required, to, you know, locate the spell, or, more likely, its effect,” Nicolás said as if he was explaining the weather.
Remus looked at him impressed. “And you came to that conclusion on your own?”
Nicolás chuckled. “Dad, I’ve been studying Magical Theory since I was nine, I think I know my way around most magic.”
“Yeah, well, let’s see how this goes, little genius,” Remus said, ruffling Nicolás’ hair.
“Here goes nothing,” Nicolás said, standing up. Remus followed suit.
Taking a deep breath, Nicolás pointed the tip of his wand to the map, and after another deep breath, and under his father’s gaze, he recited the incantation.
“Hogwarts Homunculus Vestigio!”
And from the tip of his wand emanated a soft white light over the parchment. And after the light went out, they looked at the map, but nothing seemed to have changed. Feeling his shoulders fall, as if by the weight of bricks, Nicolás sighed in defeat.
In a heartbeat, Remus gripped the back of his son’s neck with the same grounding care as always. “Love, it’s okay to –”
But Nicolas never tore his eyes from the parchment, and so, he was the first one to see how some ink appeared on its own. “Look!” he yelled, pointing at the map.
The first name tag to appear was Albus Dumbledore, up in his office, pacing. Then, Severus Snape down in the dungeons, because, of course, the git had no life outside of teaching and bullying children half his age.
Slowly, the rest of the teaching and working staff appeared, one by one, and slowly, the map started to trace, with black dots, the path each of them walked in real time. He couldn't believe it. He was successful. Nicolás just created his own copy of the Marauder’s Map.
Looking at him, Nicolás saw his father beaming in pride, as big and bright as if Nicolás was introducing his own child or something. And deep down, Nicolás knew Uncle James was beaming down at him just the same, and Uncle Sirius would, once he tells him, of course.
Now, it was only a matter of doing the respective spells to configure the appearing and disappearing of the ink, and perhaps some security measure for those who tried to open it. He was going to have fun doing just that.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
The air in the house had been tense the entire day. After coming back from their last visit to Grimmauld Place, Nicolás and Caelum noticed a few things in the bleak house.
The first one was that they came across some papers naming two new people, Victor Lestrange and Leliana Rosier. The second one, and probably the most shocking, was discovering things moved.
Their first thought was, of course, that Kreacher had done something in there, but the house-elf didn’t seem to have enough will to do basically anything, and the house had clearly not been in constant cleaning.
The main giveaway was that the door to Sirius’ room was ajar, and it was no secret to them how much Kreacher hated Sirius' very existence, so it was obvious he wouldn’t bother himself cleaning that room. Which led them to the obvious conclusion: Sirius had been at Grimmauld Place.
And that was only more confirmed when Kreacher asked to be taken back with them to the Cardona Cottage, without giving a real reason. Sirius probably forbade him from revealing his whereabouts.
This led them to this moment. Everyone was sitting around the large dining table, eyes roaming over each other’s faces. Nicolás and Caelum had taken out all the papers they had discovered at the Blacks’ ancestral home.
“Okay, so, what do we have on Tom Riddle up 'till now?” Abu Pedro asked.
“His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. A name he crafted an anagram with, I Am Lord Voldemort. Riddle is a muggle surname, because he had a muggle father, but suspiciously, his entire muggle family is dead, or more specifically, was murdered. His mother was a witch,” Nicolás explained, looking toward Caelum towards the end.
His cousin caught the message, as he spoke, “Merope Gaunt,” he said, putting a large book on the table. The page he was showing had a large family tree of the Gaunt family.
“The Gaunts were the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and one of the most extremist pureblood families,” Caelum continued. “Merope escaped her family after reaching adulthood, probably met with Tom’s father, and ended up having the child in an orphanage and dying in labor,” he made a pause, searching for some papers.
“Here,” Caelum said, putting the papers on the table. “There’s not much information on Riddle’s life before becoming Voldemort, but Kreacher gave me some papers from Regulus’ investigation,” he gestured, as some of them took the papers. “Riddle lived in that orphanage his entire childhood. He opened the Chamber of Secrets but closed it after one death and the possibility of Hogwarts closing.”
“Why?” asked Remus. “He opened it, why not continue till the end?”
“Because he was in sixth year,” explained Nicolás. “If Hogwarts closed, he would’ve had to go back to the orphanage, to the muggle world, and he hated it, not to mention World War II.”
“What else?” asked Carolina.
“The orphanage he lived in was burned in the sixties, and replaced with an office block,” Caelum added.
“So, he erased any thread that could be used to trace back his origins,” concluded María. Everyone else nodded.
“I think two things are worth noting here,” started Nicolás. “First, Riddle’s muggle family was murdered, and secondly, the last male heir of the Gaunts was imprisoned in Azkaban for the murdering of a muggle family.”
“And you think those two are related?” asked Abu Angela.
“Are you implying that Voldemort killed his muggle family and framed Morfin Gaunt for the murder?” asked Abu Pedro.
“That was Regulus’ theory. I simply can’t notice fails in it,” Nicolás said, gesturing the paper in his grandfather’s hands. “He created Horcruxes. For all we know, he probably used those deaths to fragment his soul,” he shrugged.
“Regulus also said, in his research, that Voldemort was obsessed with finding the different relics of the founders of Hogwarts. He put Regulus in charge of the investigation, while he was still a student,” Caelum said, as he extended his hand and passed more papers.
“Regulus joined them in his fifth year,” said Carolina in a weirdly distant voice. “That was the year he left all of us behind,” she whispered, seeming to gulp. Beside her, her husband rubbed the back of her neck.
“He researched about one from each of them. Gryffindor’s Sword, which we know Dumbledore has possession of. Hufflepuff’s Cup, Ravenclaw’s Lost Diadem, and Slytherin’s Locket.”
“And what do we know about that?” asked Aunt María.
“Well, Regulus had extensive papers about everything he found about each relic, but not much more from that. It doesn’t really say what was the purpose of the investigation, and I doubt Regulus knew it himself, at least not at the time,” Caelum shrugged.
Each time one of the boys mentioned Regulus, it was evident. Carolina, Remus, and María were all deeply disturbed by him. Even after years of being dead. To each of them, Regulus became a Death Eater and betrayed them, but at the same time, he was the one who put his own skin in danger when he warned Sirius and María to hide the Potters from Voldemort.
“You said you had found something peculiarly new today,” Aunt María said, her eyes glued to the steaming tea in her hands.
“We found two new names, though we have our theories, we really don’t know who they are,” Nicolás said, looking at Caelum.
“Victor Lestrange, and Leliana Rosier,” Caelum completed.
All the adults looked down, and Nicolás’ and Caelum’s suspicions were proved right. Those two were Dorian’s parents.
“They were a year ahead of us,” María started. “They joined the Order after graduating. You’ve said their names, you know their families were Death Eaters, it became a problem rather fastly, a nasty one.”
“They died towards the end of it all,” Carolina continued. “Dorian was barely two when they died.”
“They took down fifteen Death Eaters by themselves,” continues Remus with a distant but impressed voice, as if retelling a legend. “Voldemort had to go himself and take care of it.”
“What a fucking honor, just like Dorcas,” María spat bitterly.
It took a couple of minutes for the adults to compose themselves back into the conversation. It was in moments like this, where Nicolás was finally able to see the aftermaths of war, the toll all of them had to carry each day, knowing that more than half of their school friends were dead, and that there was nothing to do about it.
It only served to feed the fire within his chest. He was decided. He was going to do anything, and everything in his power to prevent it to go this far once more. He couldn’t care less about his age; the Sorting Hat considered him worthy of being a badger. They aren’t called the most fearless animals in the world for nothing. And he was already a lion. He was going to make sure Voldemort regretted crossing his family’s path.
But the time of their holidays was running out, and they needed to condense this last family meeting.
“So, he is a half-blood, born a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, which explains his obsession with purity, but anyway. He grew up in an orphanage and hated everyone and everything muggle-related, he opened the Chamber of Secrets, and, at that time, he created his first Horcrux: the diary,” Nicolás summarized.
“Wait, how did he create a Horcrux at that age?” asked Carolina.
“He probably did it with the death of that girl,” said Abu Pedro, deep in thought.
“Okay, now everything about Horcruxes, so we’re all on the same page,” Nicolás said, gesturing his grandfather to speak.
“Basically, Horcruxes are created from splitting one’s soul, and depositing the fragment into some object. Which objects, I’m not sure,” said Abu Pedro.
“Wait,” said Abu Angela. “What about the relics?”
“The founders’ relics?” asked Nicolás.
“Why was he so obsessed with them?” probed his grandmother.
“Mom, are you saying he used the relics to create more Horcruxes?” asked Carolina.
“Well, we know Gryffindor’s Sword has been safe in Dumbledore’s office all these years, but the rest are lost,” said Caelum. “Regulus explained how nobody seemed to know the place to find any of them.”
“And what if it’s not just those relics?” Nicolás asked, feeling how every eye in the room fell on him.
“What do you mean?” asked his father.
“The first one we found, and probably the first one he made, was that diary. It was a personal item, something meaningful to him, but seemingly unimportant to others,” Nicolás explained.
“What are you suggesting?” inquired Abu Pedro.
“Do we know of anything that could be meaningful for the Gaunts?” Nicolás retorted.
“Meaningful how?” asked Remus.
“Well, they were a proud pureblood family, and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they must have something, right? The Potters have that Invisibility Cloak passed down from generation to generation,” Nicolás reasoned. “I’m just saying someone should look if the Gaunts have something similar.”
“That's a good thinking, right there,” Abu Pedro said appreciatively.
After that, two hours of hot chocolate and recently baked bread followed, all in the midst of jokes, and a more gentle and animated conversation. It was a shame Harry missed out, but hopefully, he was having a great time with the Weasleys.
After the summer was done, Nicolás still noticed how off-put Harry looked sometimes – and he probably felt that way, given his family history. He still acted as though he needed to do something or behave a certain way to deserve to be with them. To be deserving of their love.
He still ate each meal as though he was preparing for food to be cut out from him – he always ate like that at Hogwarts, and it only took Nicolás a few smart glances to notice why Harry was so
thin. Each time he noticed it, Nicolás had to almost physically restrain his own brain from making up vengeance plans to fall upon the Durlseys.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
“I still don’t understand why you insist on letting Snivellus make your Wolfsbane Potion,” Nicolás grumbled as they walked through the forest. The sound of the dry leaves and twigs that broke under their feet was their background harmony.
“Nico, we’ve talked about this,” Remus sighed, looking at his son.
“Oh, please, Dad, be for real. Snape hates you; he won’t make any effort to make that potion edible.”
“It's a potion, it is edible, you know,” Remus said with a smirk. "It's not like he can poison me under Dumbledore's nose."
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Nicolás sighed. “It’s disgusting. At least I can brew it to make it sweet for you, Snape won’t bother, just to spite you.”
“We’re all very proud of you for discovering how to do that,” Remus said, looking at Nicolás intently.
“It wasn’t hard, really. No one just bothered to do it,” the boy shrugged.
Remus stopped, cupping Nicolás’ face. “You’ve been making that potion for me since an age no child should be making potions for their father.”
“I don’t care,” Nicolás grumbled with his brow furrowed, looking into his father’s eyes.
“It’s a complicated potion, and it requires much time to brew,” Remus tried to reason.
Nicolás rolled his eyes. “I’ve been brewing it ever since I was ten, Dad. I learned it, before brewing the simplest antidote for poisons.”
“I won’t allow you to waste school time on me, Love.”
“It could never be wasted if it’s time invested in you,” Nicolás argued. “I don’t care.”
“But you’re my son, and I do care. You’ll have nothing to worry about, at least not for my potion, and that’s it,” Remus said softly, but firmly. The same sweet, firm, and compassionate authority in his soft voice, always leveled.
Nicolás furrowed his brow but kept walking. He knew better than to argue with his father once he had made up his mind about something. Especially anything related to his lycanthropy.
By the time they reached the edge of the forest, María and Carolina were already waiting for them, Ember was resting on the floor next to them.
“Took you long enough,” Carolina said, smiling. “The moon’s about to come out.”
“Not much longer, My Love,” Remus told his wife, looking up at the ethereal satellite whose silvery brilliance was being held back by ink-black clouds.
He moved in a quick succession, leaving his bag hanging from a tree branch. He moved behind the large tree trunk, hiding from view as he took off his clothes. As the last of his fabrics were left in safety, snapping sounds started—bones snapping.
With the first beam of full moonlight fell on his body, the transformation began. Four years had passed, and Nicolás still cringed badly at the sound of his father’s bones snapping and rearranging. After so many years of dealing with his curse, Remus had learned how to stop himself from screaming, all just so he wouldn’t show how much it hurt, not because he wanted to parade off being brave, but because he knew how much it hurt his family.
It took about five minutes of constant bone breaking, of repressed and swallowed screams, of throaty grunting and pained snarling, for Moony to come to them, and, as the werewolf looked back, long gone were the people, in their place were a lion, a black panther, a big husky dog, and a Wampus Cat.
And thus, their dance began. Even with the effects of the Wolfsbane, Moony was pretty restless — probably feeling Remus’ anxiety about his soon-starting job.
But it was a good night, they had been like that to Remus for the last two decades, ever since Nicolás' grandfather assisted Damocles Belby in the Wolfsbane Potion’s development. Thanks to Nicolás’ addition of Levander Essence and Cinnamon grains, it helped to calm him, and it made the potion sweeter.
Six hours later, everyone, very much tired, walked back to the country house. Nicolás gave his father two potions—one to subdue the pain, and one to help speed his healing—, but little could be done to fully ease the pain of all the bones in your body breaking.
In the entrance Caelum and Kreacher waited for them with small phials of Invigoration Draught. With magically renewed energy, Nicolás made his way upstairs. It was 7 a.m. and they didn’t want to be late for the Hogwarts Express.
“Where will you be sitting?” asked Caelum once they were alone in the second-floor hall.
“Well, all of you lot are Prefects! I’ll be on my own!” Nicolás exclaimed, pretending to be offended.
“All of us?” Caelum asked.
“Yes! You and Ruby for Gryffindor, Cedric and Aurora for Hufflepuff, Dorian and Amelia for Slytherin, even Willow is the new Ravenclaw Prefect!” Nicolás said, laughing.
“Oh, hell, it really is all of us,” Caelum said, taking a moment to slowly think, much to Nicolás’ amusement.
“Doesn’t matter, I’ll speak with Cedric before he has to leave for the Prefect meeting. I don’t suspect either of you will be free before arriving at Hogsmeade, and Dad is wrecked and so am I. I think I’ll stick with him and just sleep as much as I can,” Nicolás said, before entering his room to grab his trunk.
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Author's note
Soo, if any of you actually understood all the Dragon Age references in this chapter, I send you a forehead kiss from the distance. Little spoiler: this is part of my headcanon, and will be so very much relevant later towards the end of this part and for the next ones 👀👀
More revelations and discoveries from Grimmauld Place! What do you think will be the role of Dorian's parents?
Have I ever mentioned I hate Snape? ‘Cause I do.
And at last, don't we love how much Nicolás loves Remus? I swear I melt every time I write them together, like 🥹🥺
Side note, all the names from the different Colombian Magical Tribes that were mentioned come from three Colombian Indigenous languages/dialects: Quechua, Muisca, and Nasa-Yuwe. Hampiq (Wizard); Intiwayra (Path of the sun); Nanashq (Seer); Zipa (Ruler); Tshe'x (Death); Fiba (Air); We'sx (Heavens); Llanthu (Shadowy).
As always, it is of great joy for me to read your comments, opinions, and theories, please feel free to leave them. Your comments, votes, and follows are always appreciated.
- 𝐣.𝐟. 𝐜. 🐼💜