Maternus Amor et Lamia

She was dying—it was an undeniable truth at this point, a chilling weight settling deep in her bones. The distressing sensation of ash seemed to peel away from her very skin, accompanied by a soul-deep coldness that permeated her being. A vast pool of blood stained both her clothes and the snow-covered ground, transforming the pristine white into a deep crimson. The bitter cold of Yakutsk, the capital of Russia's Sakha Republic in eastern Siberia, did nothing to alleviate her plight.

Henrietta Liliosa Potter was no fool; she understood precisely why this was happening to her. After all, she was a vampire, and two individuals marked for death by the British Ministry of Magic were under her protection. One of them — the First Child, was a vampire and was none other than the only offspring of the late Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort! and the other was a werewolf.

How utterly ludicrous it was, she thought. Just the day before her eighteenth birthday, she had been summoned by Gringotts. At first, fear had gripped her heart, worried that they sought retribution for the dragon she had stolen. The beast had liked her, after all, and had willingly participated in the escape. Yet, despite the dread that settled in, she summoned her Gryffindor courage and walked in anyway.

To her astonishment, she was promptly informed that she had been named godmother by none other than Lord Voldemort himself! Henrietta had laughed uncontrollably until Firewing, the goblin delivering the news, made it clear she was not joking. Henrietta learned that she was now responsible for the well-being of the human child named Delphini.

However, the revelation of her godmother status was not the only shocking news. Firewing informed her that as she approached her eighteenth birthday, she was required to take an inheritance test to prepare her for the challenges that lay ahead.

"Three drops of blood, Miss Potter,” Firewing instructed, pulling out a bluish piece of papyrus parchment and a copper dagger.

Henrietta took the offered dagger, her hand trembling slightly. With a deep breath, she pressed the blade into her palm, wincing as the sharp edge sliced through skin. She administered the required amount of blood before wiping the dagger on her gray t-shirt and returning it to Firewing. The goblin nodded in approval, a grin spreading across her face as she placed the dagger on the wall behind her.

“You may take a look, Miss Potter,” she said, pointing her sharp finger toward the parchment.

Henrietta leaned closer, her heart racing as she read the words inscribed on the parchment:

Henrietta Liliosa Potter-Black-Evans — 31 July 1980

Parents:

Father:Jascha (James) Fleamont Potter (Deceased) — 27 March 1960 - 31 October 1981  

Mother:Liliosa Rosetta Potter née Evans (Deceased) — 30 January 1960 - 31 October 1981 

Godparents:

Sirius Orion Black (blood adoption) (deceased) — 3 November 1959 - 18 June 1996

Severus Tobias Prince (blood adoption) (deceased) — 9 January 1960 - 2 May 1998

Grandparents:

Fleamont Charlus Potter (deceased) 1909 - 1979

Euphemia Potter née Braithewaite (deceased) — 20 February 1885 - 1979

Henry Loid Evans née Backster (deceased) — 27 November 1920 - 1978

Rosetta Aztec Evans (deceased) — 14 June 1917 - 1976

Great Grandparents:

Charlus Harold Potter (deceased) — 2 September 1879 - 1936

Dorea Ursula Potter née Black (deceased) — 12 August 1878 - 1960

Arnold Braithewaite (deceased) — 16 July 1859 - 1950

Arabella Smackle (deceased) — 3 October 1860 - 1949

Camellia Bluet Evans (deceased) — 5 January 1767 - 1950

Isaac Eugene Evans née Parker — 1797 - 1950  

Henry Ford Backster (deceased) — 2 April 1888 - 1952

Jasmine Grace Backster née Foster (deceased) — 1890 - 1966

Aunts/Uncles:

Petunia Dursley née Evans — 3 September 1958

Vernon Dursley — 11 September 1956

Great Aunts/Uncles:

Hellebore Martagon Evans (deceased) — 31 December 1915 - 1922

Heirship/Lordship:

Lady Potter, paternal, family motto - Mortem amplectere sicut vetus amicus

Lady Black, blood adoption and paternal, family motto - Genus ante potestatem, Genus ante superbiam, Genus ante avaritiam, Genus ante libidinem, Genus ante invidiam, Genus ante gulam, Genus ante iram, Genus ante pigriciam

Lady Peverell, maternal (Antioch Peverell), paternal (Ignotus Peverell) by conquest (Cadmus Peverell), family motto - Mors Pater noster est

Lady Evans, maternal, family motto - anima in sanguine

Lady Slytherin, by conquest, Maternal (through Peverell line), paternal (through Peverell line), family motto - Per pugnam, perfectio. Per victoriam, immortalitatem

Lady Ravenclaw, paternal (Through Potter line), family motto - Ingenium supra modum maximus est hominis thesaurus

Lady Gryffindor, maternal (through Peverell line) and paternal (through Peverell line), family motto - Forti Animo Estote

As she finished reading, Henrietta frowned, her eyebrows knitting together at the mention of the lordships, particularly the date 1915-1922 next to Hellebore’s name. Although she didn’t know a lick of Latin, the words resonated ominously in her mind.

“Miss Firewing, what do the Latin phrases under the family mottos mean? I’m afraid I can't read Latin,” she asked, striving for politeness.

“I see,” Firewing replied, her tone shifting to one of formality. “In order of your lordship, I shall explain the mottos, my Lady. ‘Mortem amplectere sicut vetus amicus’ means ‘Embrace death like an old friend.’ The lengthy motto, ‘Genus ante potestatem, Genus ante superbiam, Genus ante avaritiam, Genus ante libidinem, Genus ante invidiam, Genus ante gulam, Genus ante iram, Genus ante pigriciam,’ translates to ‘Family before power, Family before pride, Family before greed, Family before lust, Family before envy, Family before gluttony, Family before wrath, Family before sloth.’ 

“Arcturus Black III attempted to change it to ‘Toujours Pur,’ which means ‘Always Pure’ in French. Unfortunately for him, family mottos cannot be altered by any Lord or Lady, as Lady Hecate grants them, and only she may change a family’s motto. ‘Mors Pater noster est’ translates to ‘Death is our Father.’ ‘Anima in sanguine’ means ‘Soul in Blood.’ ‘Per pugnam, perfectio. Per victoriam, immortalitatem’ means ‘Through struggle, perfection. Through victory, immortality.’ Lastly, ‘Ingenium supra modum maximus est hominis thesaurus’ means ‘Genius beyond measure is the greatest treasure of man,’ and ‘Forti Animo Estote’ translates to ‘Be of good courage,’” she explained, pointing to each motto as she spoke.

“Now, my Lady, I believe we should review your properties and then, in two days, pick up your godchild, Delphini, from Euphemia Rowle,” Firewing said, retrieving another piece of parchment from her satchel.

“Why two days?” Henrietta asked, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued.

“Because you will experience your inheritance in just a few short hours, so it is best to be well-rested. Now, let’s look at those properties,” Firewing exclaimed, her exasperation evident.

As if Fate were mocking Henrietta for her foolishness, she found herself unable to pick up Delphini two days after her inheritance ritual. Ron, along with a huddle of other light-affiliated wizards and witches, had gathered to vote for her goddaughter's death. Euphemia Rowle, that wretched woman, would simply hand the poor child over to the Ministry of Magic without a hint of resistance. Henrietta hadn’t even had time to recover from her inheritance when she realized she had to sneak into the Ministry of Magic to rescue her goddaughter from impending doom.

It felt like fifth year all over again, except the pain coursing through her was tenfold. It was as if hundreds of knives were lodged deep in her head and her limbs had been dismembered and crudely sewn back together. 

She might as well have been taken apart and remade. Despite the excruciating pain, she felt lighter, faster… stronger.

Henrietta moved silently, her footsteps barely making a sound. Why hadn’t anyone noticed her presence yet? 

‘Don't be stupid, Henrietta! They’re unaware because you shadow-stepped in!’ her inner vampire chimed in cheerfully. She had named this voice 'Henri.' The goblins had explained it was normal for humans transitioning to creatures to hear an inner voice. Henrietta and Henri would only ever merge halfway, as she was her instinct, overseeing functions like ‘Safe! Danger! Bad! Good! Run! Protect! Fight! Kill! Hungry!’

Henrietta had been warned that her instincts could easily overwhelm her until she and Henri became, in a sense, one. Until then, she would have to learn to navigate her new life differently than a naturally born vampire.

But that wasn’t what occupied her thoughts as she glided around corners and down long hallways. No, her focus was singular: finding the room where Delphini was being held. A sense of betrayal coursed through her, her inner self screaming, ‘Bad! Punish!’ whenever she wasn’t distracted by corrections. She felt disappointed in Ron. She had believed he valued life as much as she did, but his recent actions were proving otherwise. The realization hit her hard: she had misjudged him, and she knew what she had to do moving forward.

When she finally found the room, it was suspiciously unguarded. Not a single guard was in sight—it felt fishy.

‘Possible trap… or they really don’t care,’ she thought as she peeked around the archway.

It didn’t feel right, but she knew she had to take the risk to save her goddaughter from her unfair fate. Delphini hadn’t asked to be born into this world; it was unjust to label her a monster just because of her parents. Henrietta could almost see her own life reflected in Delphini’s plight—her worth had always been defined by the legacy of her parents, too.

Approaching the door, Henrietta silently cast a detection spell to check for monitoring, traps, or locking spells. When the spell returned clean, she slowly opened the door, cautious in case someone lurked behind it. To her relief, there was no one there, only the sound of a baby crying desperately.

The sight of Delphini in a large birdcage—without even a blanket to shield her from the cold metal—made Henrietta's blood boil with righteous anger. The audacity of these people to treat a child this way ignited a fierce fire within her. In a matter of seconds, she was by the cage, yanking the bars apart without checking for spells—a mistake she would regret for the rest of her life—and lifting the child into her arms.

“Halt! Put the criminal down!” Ron's voice rang out, echoing through the room. 

Henrietta turned her acid-green eyes toward her former friend and glared venomously. In the dark, all Ron could see were her glowing green eyes.

“Lumos!” 

“I refuse!” 

Their voices echoed in unison, and in the next moment, the room was flooded with light. Henrietta had forgotten how dark it had been; she now possessed perfect vision, both in light and darkness. But with the illumination came the realization that Delphini was in worse shape than she initially thought. The poor child was pale—really pale—and showed clear signs of starvation.

“Rietta!? What do you think you’re doing? Put ‘that’ down! It’s a demon’s spawn that we should get rid of before it has a chance to wreak havoc!” Ron exclaimed, his voice filled with hysteria as he aimed a “Stupefy” at her. She dodged effortlessly.

Her wand was drawn in record time, and she shot off an “Ascendio” toward Ron, followed by a “Bombarda” aimed at the ceiling above where he would land. Ron was sent flying and had to defend himself against a barrage of falling debris.

“Diffindo!” he shouted, but she easily dodged.

“Locomotor Mortis!” Henrietta cast, and Ron wasn’t so lucky this time. He tripped, face-planting onto the floor.

“Incarcerous!” Ron cried out, but Henrietta dodged yet again without effort.

“Langlock!” Henrietta cast, 

Ron couldn't dodge because of the Locomotor Mortis and found his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

He tried to cast a non-verbal spell, but she countered with an “Immobulus” and a “Expelliarmus,” immobilizing him and disarming him in one swift motion. She stood over his prone form; his glare was filled with a hatred she hadn’t seen since fourth year. Yet, unlike when she was fourteen, she felt no sadness or regret. Ron had betrayed her too many times; he was now merely her enemy.

“I’m disappointed,” she drawled, her wand pointed at him. “Incendio!” Fire erupted as footsteps approached.

A powerful blast of flames hit Ron squarely in the face. Fueled by her rage or perhaps a miscalculation of her strength, Ron burst intoflames. His screams were muffled due to the Langlock, but Henrietta couldn’t bring herself to care. Delphini was whimpering pitifully, and the sound of footsteps grew closer. Without a moment’s hesitation, she shadow-stepped to Gringotts.

Shadow-stepping felt like diving into a pool of ink, sinking to the bottom before floating back to the surface. It was slightly uncomfortable but far better than Apparition, and the best part? It couldn’t be tracked!

“Goodbye, Ron. The next time we face each other, we will be enemies,” she thought, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her mind. ‘I hope it scars.’

And then she was gone.

 Firewing had instructed Henrietta to head to Gringotts in the Azerbaijan magical community to perform the blood adoption needed to become Delphini’s official guardian. However, there were significant consequences tied to the adoption: the moment Delphini became her adopted daughter, she would begin to transform into a vampire, just like Henrietta.

“Hello, Miss Potter. I am Leafgrinder, Firewing's partner,” the elderly goblin said in a gruff voice. “She has informed me of your situation, so please follow me.”

Henrietta nodded, her curiosity piqued as she took in Leafgrinder's appearance. She knew Firewing was one of the oldest goblins in the British department of Gringotts, having served as the account manager for the Evans Coven since 6000 BCE, but she hadn’t realized that there were goblins even older than her.

The goblin before her was a sight to behold, with more wrinkles than any goblin she had ever seen. His hair—or what remained of it—was whiter than snow. What struck her as particularly unique were his green eyes. Most goblins had brown or black eyes, making this vibrant color almost non-existent. 

On top of that, Leafgrinder slouched like Yoda from Star Wars—a movie she had only glimpsed through the cracks of her cupboard—and he carried a cane that further ingrained the image in her mind. 

‘He would probably get mad if I called him Yoda,’ she thought as she followed the surprisingly spry goblin down a long, dark hallway adorned with taxidermied heads of goblins. It wasn’t the most disturbing sight she had encountered; she had accepted that such practices were commonplace in many magical cultures. The darkness of the hall wasn’t truly dark to Henrietta's vampire-enhanced vision, but she wondered how they guided other magical beings down this path. Did they illuminate the way for wizards and witches, or did they leave them to fend for themselves?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Delphini's whimpering from the stretchy wrap tied around her chest. Henrietta quickly pulled out a bottle of baby milk infused with a nutrient potion. For the past four days, she had been preparing the concoction as she awaited Firewing's contact with her partner in the Azerbaijan department.

During those four painstaking days, she had resided in one of many properties owned by the Evans family. It turned out they held at least six properties across Europe. She had chosen one close to Gringotts, a decent-sized home with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room.

The house boasted two floors. The upper level had two bedrooms: a 100-square-foot room on the left and a smaller 49-square-foot room on the right. Henrietta had considered transforming the smaller room into a nursery, but that remained to be seen. The ground floor featured a surprisingly spacious kitchen that measured 400 square feet, despite the entire house being only 400 square feet. She chalked it up to magic. The bathroom was 60 square feet, while the living room measured about 200 square feet.

The house also had a basement, which served as a library. The library was immense, comparable to the National Library and Archives of Iran, with eight stories and fifteen halls spanning 125,880 square feet. The sheer volume of books was overwhelming, yet it didn’t deter her from exploring.

Overall, the house was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. Despite its emptiness—most valuables had been moved to the Evans Vault after the last Awakened member’s death in 1978—Henrietta had grown to love the place. It was bittersweet to realize she was the last member of her Coven.

“Here we are,” Leafgrinder's voice pulled her from her musings.

They arrived in a vast room that could fit the top two floors of her current home four times over. It was illuminated by white candles, and the entire room was strikingly white. In the center of the floor was a pentacle designed in the shape of a lotus flower, its intricate patterns composed of over a thousand tiny red runes, the only color in the room and the most eye-catching feature. At the center of the pentacle sat a golden bowl and a copper dagger that radiated pure magic.

“Go on, Miss Potter. Only you and the child may enter the circle. The bowl already contains the adoption potion; all you need is seven drops of your blood. The potion will condense to make it easier to transfer into the bottle you’ve been carrying,” Leafgrinder instructed, pointing with a sharp claw at the baby bottle secured to Henrietta’s hip.

Henrietta nodded and approached the center of the pentacle. She didn’t remove Delphini from her chest but did take away the bottle the baby had been drinking from, prompting a soft whine of protest.

“Shh, you’ll get it back soon,” Henrietta reassured her as she knelt before the golden bowl and grasped the copper dagger. With a swift motion, she sliced her palm open above the bowl.

‘One… two… three… four… five… six… and seven.’

As her blood dripped into the bowl, the potion began to change color, shifting from a deep, dark blue to a rich, dark red. The cut on her hand sealed almost instantly, and before she could wipe the blood on her shirt, it vanished in a shimmer of golden sparkles that nearly startled her.

The potion, which had once filled the bowl to about two cups, shrank down into a thick paste, approximately a tablespoon’s worth. Hurriedly, she uncapped Delphini’s bottle and scooped the paste into it, shaking it well before replacing the cap and offering it to the baby. Delphini scrunched her nose at the taste but quickly focused on filling her little belly.

Once finished, Henrietta burped Delphini, who had begun to whine in discomfort. she worriedly gnawed at her lip as she watched for any signs of change. The only noticeable difference was that Delphini appeared even paler than before, which Henrietta hadn’t thought possible.

“Erk!” 

Henrietta cried out as a sharp pain shot through her left breast. Delphini had bitten her—bitten! This shouldn’t have been remotely possible; the baby didn’t have teeth yet, and Henrietta wore battle robes made of dragonhide, one of the most durable materials in existence.

“Oh my! What an unexpected turn of events!” a cheerful feminine voice exclaimed.

Henrietta looked up to see a young female goblin with brown eyes and vibrant red hair—another rarity, given that goblin hair typically only came in black or brown. She was surprised to encounter two rare specimens in a single day.

“I am Pyx, your healer for this ceremony,” she said, her demeanor unusually cheerful for a goblin. She even wore a genuine smile, not the typical goblin smirk or sneer.

“I’ve never seen a child change species during a simple adoption. You, young lady, must be very powerful for that baby to turn into a vampire,” Pyx continued.

“Change species?” Henrietta asked in confusion, glancing down at her newly official daughter.

“Although rare, it is possible for humans to change species when adopted by someone with greater magical power. This phenomenon primarily affects humans, but there are a few rare cases among other races as well. While species changes can occur through biting—like werewolves and the occasional vampire—adoption is much less common,” Pyx explained, waving her hand. A warm sensation flooded Henrietta’s senses.

“Delphini is a vampire now!?” Henrietta's eyes widened in astonishment.

“Of course! She is now the heir to the Evans family because she has your blood running through her veins—unless you choose not to make her your heir.”

Henrietta tilted her head, absorbing this new information. She realized two things: her magical power had overwritten Delphini's very genetic makeup, and Delphini was now her heir unless Henrietta decided otherwise. 

This situation was far from what Henrietta had anticipated, but it was incredibly convenient. She had no romantic interests and had no plans for one in the future. If she could preserve her lineage simply by blood adopting someone, all the better.

“Now, let’s get you and your new child cleaned up!” Pyx’s cheerful voice broke through Henrietta's thoughts.

Henrietta nodded and stood from her place, following Pyx out of the ritual room.

  Two weeks after adopting Delphini, Henrietta successfully gained full custody of her second child, a werewolf named Edward Remus 'Teddy' Lupin, her godson. This was made possible through the assistance of the Goblin Nation, especially when his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks née Black tried to interfere. Andromeda held the opinion that Henrietta was 'too young' to care for children, a reasoning Henrietta deemed absurd, especially since her friends Neville and Luna were expecting their first child at that moment. Andromeda pressed harder, labeling Henrietta as 'unsuitable' due to her status as a vampire—a 'dark creature.' For Merlin's sake! Her grandson was half werewolf, yet she claimed Henrietta was 'unsuitable,' despite both Teddy and Henrietta being considered 'dark creatures.' It was nothing short of hypocrisy!

Henrietta pondered whether she had once shared such narrow-minded views. If not for her inheritance, would she have remained the same? Reflecting back, she realized she had always harbored a deep respect for magical creatures, a feeling that had once been unexplainable but now made perfect sense.

Naturally, she blood adopted Teddy as well, albeit with a tinge of worry about how her vampirism would affect him. To her relief, he didn’t transform into a half-werewolf, half-vampire hybrid as she had feared; he remained his usual self. When Henrietta finally brought Teddy home, the two-month-old baby became confused by her and Delphini’s appearances. His Metamorphmagus abilities began to manifest, and three weeks later, he decided to change, sporting split white and black hair along with red and green eyes.

For two peaceful months, Henrietta enjoyed life in Azerbaijan. However, peace shattered when Griphook inadvertently revealed her whereabouts and her status as a vampire. Betrayed, she found herself on the run once again, with Ron and his army of Aurors hot on her trail. She darted between her various properties for months, but they were discovered almost immediately. Eventually, she purchased a simple cottage in Yakutsk and, with the help of her only remaining friend, Hermione, placed it under the Fidelius Charm, allowing them to live in relative peace.

During this time, her best friend, Hermione, married Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass and relocated to Australia. Henrietta would visit, though her stays were brief due to the inherent dangers. Meanwhile, Hermione began establishing herself politically, ultimately becoming the leader of the Department of Creature Rights in Australia. Within a year, she made it illegal to kill any magical creature, whether dark or light, regardless of their citizenship or location. The punishment for breaking this law was death, and the Australian Ministry of Magic declared that they would execute anyone guilty of this crime, regardless of their nationality. Initially, this caused an uproar, but other ministries had no choice but to acquiesce to the new law.

Yet, even after five years of successful hiding, Ronald Bilius Weasley—the very bastard she wished she had killed long ago—managed to find them. He ambushed Henrietta and her two children in a local playground when no one was around, accompanied by thirty Aurors, of all things! Henrietta fought fiercely to protect her children, eliminating all but Ron—why was he so fast?—and a man with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes that reminded her of that insufferable Dumbledore. She would have dispatched the man—whose name she couldn’t care less about—if it hadn’t been for Ron casting a well-aimed spell that embedded itself in her body, infused with a highly concentrated amount of silver. The silver was what reduced her to this state: lying on the snow-covered ground, bleeding out and on the brink of death.

   “Mama!” Delphini’s anguished scream echoed through the playground, piercing the air like a siren. The sound ignited a furious fire within Henrietta, unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Blinking through blurry vision, she witnessed Ron grasping a fistful of her daughter’s luscious white hair, dragging her across the snowy ground. Delphini’s apple-red eyes were brimming with tears that froze in the harsh Yakutsk climate. Her baby-pink peacoat had been torn away, leaving her off-white sweater and pants soaked and muddy, the little pink butterflies that adorned them nearly ripped off.

“Man! The paperwork for this is going to be insane!” a brown-haired man remarked, glancing at Ron.

“I say we have a little fun with her; she owes us that much at the very least! Don’t you think, Swyn?” Ron replied loftily, a cruel smirk plastered on his face.

“A few Crucios ought to do the trick! After all, the brat’s father caused us a lot of trouble!” Swyn cackled hysterically.

“Then we’ll finish her off with an Avada Kedavra! It was her father’s favorite, after all! What better humiliation than to end his line with his favorite curse?” Ron declared.

“That’s a great idea!” Swyn continued to laugh, their voices ringing with malicious glee.

With their backs turned to her, Ron and his accomplice appeared to consider her no longer a threat, seemingly forgetting about Teddy. That was their mistake, and it was just the opening Henrietta needed. Gritting her bloodied teeth, she pushed herself to her shaky feet. If there was one truth she held firmly, it was that she could not die while Delphini was in danger. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Teddy had found a hiding place inside a nearby tree, but there was no time to question it. She would not perish until she eliminated the threat to her children. 

Henrietta unsheathed her twin daggers from her thighs with a barely audible click. The blades, crafted from high-carbon steel and reinforced by the ancient magic of the Evans Coven, had been passed down from one Lady to the next. They were not only priceless artifacts; only those with blood from the main line could wield them without risking destruction. 

Beautifully carved ancient runes adorned the blades, inscribed for blood, soul, and protection. Rose vines twisted around the steel, as if attempting to strangle the weapons. The Evans family coat of arms—a Kashmir rose dripping drops of blood—was imprinted on the hilt. The sharp edges were stained red from centuries of bloodshed, and now, she would use these blades for the first time.

Channeling a surge of magic into her weakening limbs, she lunged at Delphini's assailants faster than the blink of an eye. In one fell swoop, she severed Ron and Swyn’s heads before they even registered what was happening. They were dead before they could cry out, gasp, or scream in shock. As Ron’s lifeless body crumpled, he released Delphini’s hair.

Henrietta fell to her knees, panting and gasping for breath, pain searing through her body.

'Get up!' she shouted in her mind. 'You still have the children to protect; it’s not safe here!'

“Mama!” Two voices cried out, and suddenly Delphini and Teddy were within her reach.

In the next moment, she had them in her arms. Their baby scent calmed her for just an instant, but she knew she had to get them to safety. 

Without hesitation, she shadow-stepped into the warm air of Australia, landing in front of a grand country house made of quartzite stone and cherry wood. It was beautiful, yet Henrietta couldn’t appreciate its splendor at that moment as she made her way up the path and stairs of the Malfoy-Greengrass-Granger household, her arms weakening under the weight of her frightened children. The cherry wood doors swung open, revealing a wide-eyed Draco Malfoy.

“Rietta!? What happened? Are you okay? You’re bleeding so much… Hermione! Quickly!” He moved to grab her, but she forced him to take the children instead.

Words failed her; the pain was too intense, and her voice had crumbled to ash. Instead, she relied on the only method she knew, a skill that Severus Snape had unintentionally taught her. Though her plan involved the reverse method, that detail was irrelevant.

'Legilimens!'

That morning had started off normally for Henrietta. She woke up at four-thirty, spending thirty minutes taming her wild, curly barossa-colored hair. After that, she slipped into a pair of form-fitting black dragonhide pants and a tight black turtleneck. She pulled on her thigh-high combat boots, then strapped on a complex black dragonhide corset adorned with too many buckles to count. 

Once fully dressed, Henrietta donned her trench coat. It was crafted from black dragonhide and featured two layers: the first layer stopped above mid-thigh and zipped all the way up to her neck, giving it a turtleneck appearance, while the second layer flowed gracefully, lifting in the back to form an almost U-shape. The coat had a deep hood, long and wide enough to effectively conceal her face.

With her wand and daggers secured, she headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the children. Kyorchekh, Alaaji, Buterbrody, and Russian tea were some of the dishes she had learned to make while living in Yakutsk. The tea needed to be brewed first, as it took three hours to prepare. Although she had made some the day before, leaving behind leftovers that could be heated, she decided to make a fresh batch since there was only enough for breakfast.

After finishing the tea, Henrietta prepared the rest of the meal to ensure everything was ready by six o'clock. By six-thirty, she had the hot foods warming in a charm as she made her way to wake Delphini and Teddy from their slumber. The two children shared a room; unlike her previous home in Azerbaijan, which had been spacious, the cottage they lived in was small, with two tiny bedrooms and a compact kitchen-living room combo.

Henrietta opened the door to their room and flicked on the light switch. Two small groans emerged from the bunk beds. The first to peek out was Teddy, his dual-colored eyes squinting against the light. Next, Delphini sat up, blinking a few times. The sight of her children with their messy bedheads made Henrietta giggle.

“It’s time for breakfast, my beautiful children!” Henrietta announced, pulling out two outfits, one for each child.

“Yes, Mama!” they chorused, eagerly climbing out of bed, with Teddy navigating down the ladder.

Delphini’s outfit consisted of a white t-shirt, an off-white sweater adorned with pink butterflies, off-white winter pants, and baby pink socks. Teddy wore a white t-shirt, a brown sweater with black teddy bears, brown winter pants, and black socks—so adorable!

Once dressed, all three headed to the kitchen, where the children rushed for the Kyorchekh while Henrietta reached for the Buterbrody. Naturally, everyone poured themselves a cup of tea as well. The morning atmosphere was peaceful, and Henrietta felt a sense of optimism; today was going to be a good day.

“Mama, I want to go to the park today!” Delphini exclaimed, nibbling on some Alaaji.

Henrietta blinked a few times before smiling. “Sure, honey! But you should bundle up tightly; it’s getting colder now that winter is approaching.”

Excitedly, the children dashed back to their bedroom to prepare for their outing. They didn’t venture outside often due to the dangers posed by the British Ministry, but when they did, they often visited a nearby park that featured a lovely lake perfect for ice skating—an activity both children enjoyed.

Standing by the door, Henrietta waited for her children. After a moment, they appeared before her, dressed in their winter coats and scarves. Delphini wore a baby pink peacoat with a white scarf, while Teddy sported a black peacoat with a brown scarf. Henrietta checked them over, making small adjustments before deeming them ready for the outside world.

She extended her hands, and both children took hold eagerly before stepping outside and heading toward the park. Five minutes later, upon arriving, Delphini and Teddy expressed a desire to build snowmen, and Henrietta indulged them.

They had a wonderful time for about fifteen minutes, but just as they completed their first snowman, a sudden sound shattered the tranquility—nearly thirty people Apparated into the area. Within moments, Henrietta and her children found themselves surrounded by Aurors.

Henrietta drew her wand faster than the blink of an eye as a barrage of spells rained down upon her family. The spells were lethal, comprising a flurry of blasting and cutting hexes.

“Sectumsempra!” she shouted, striking at least five of the Aurors. It wasn’t a spell she often used, but desperation drove her to employ it more frequently.

“Bombarda! Confringo! Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra! Secare digitis! Ignis Blastus!” she called out, unleashing every spell she could conjure, including two new incantations: the fire blast and a modified version of the finger-cutting hex.

“Sectumsempra! Sanguis dimittens!” she shouted, invoking a spell she had created that drained the victim of their blood in an instant, effective against seven targets at once.

Only four enemies remained: Ron—Henrietta felt a rush of satisfaction at the sight of the scar she had inflicted on him from that fire five years ago—Swyn, and two others. They engaged her in what could hardly be called a duel, as she was outmatched by four opponents. However, she refused to let their numbers deter her; she was avampire—strong, mighty, and fast. In an instant, she dispatched the other two, but Ron and his partner continued to evade her attacks, keeping pace with her in a way that should have been impossible.

“Argentum injectio!” Swyn and Ron yelled simultaneously, and Henrietta had no time to dodge the spell. It pierced her dragonhide outfit, entering her bloodstream.

The high-pitched scream that escaped her lips was prolonged and filled with unimaginable pain. It felt as though her very blood was being burned away, as if invisible blades were stabbing her from every direction. For a moment, she blacked out; when she blinked back to consciousness, she found herself lying on the snow-covered ground, her body aching, and Ron had his fist tangled in Delphini’s hair.

Pulling out of Draco’s mind after sharing the traumatic moments leading up to her arrival on his doorstep was exhausting and painful. Henrietta knew she had only moments left, so she projected her thoughts toward her children.

'It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault, so don’t blame yourselves. I’m just glad I could protect you in the end.'

And then darkness enveloped her very being. Henrietta’s ashes flowed into the wind, leaving nothing behind, even as Draco desperately tried to stop them. Her ashes drifted away, destined to reunite with her father, Thanatos, also known as Hades.

    Heels clicked rhythmically across the marble floor of the Australian Ministry of Magic, each sound echoing gracefully in the spacious hall. Hermione Malfoy-Greengrass, née Granger, the current Minister of Magic, strode purposefully toward her home. She appeared no older than eighteen, clad in elegant dark navy robes that cinched at the hips and flowed around her in a dramatic, almost ethereal manner. Her curly hair, styled in a pixie cut, framed her pale face perfectly, accentuated by the shimmering sapphire earrings that dangled from her ears.

In reality, Hermione was not eighteen but rather 180 years old. Today marked the 158th anniversary of her best friend and sister in everything but blood's passing—a day that left a scar still stinging in the hearts of those who loved her. Hermione recalled that day with vivid clarity; it was the day she held her sister for the last time, the day when all that remained was ash.

Five years after Henrietta’s death, Hermione and her wife, Astoria, welcomed two beautiful children into their lives. Their firstborn was a girl, whom Hermione named Alazne Ester Malfoy-Greengrass. The second child, a boy, was named Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy-Greengrass, a name given by Astoria as his mother.

Hermione had blood-adopted Scorpius, while Astoria did the same for Alazne. Just as their family seemed to flourish, misfortune struck. A healer delivered devastating news: Astoria could no longer have children, and any attempt to conceive could endanger her life. The healer revealed it was a miracle that Astoria was alive at all. In that moment, Hermione vowed that as long as Astoria could not bear children, she would not seek to have more either. She promised to find a way to help Astoria and others in similar situations.

For six years, Hermione immersed herself in research to cure the damage inflicted by a frail body and pregnancy. However when Hermione was the age of thirty-three, Astoria soon fell ill, claiming to be afflicted by the so-called Greengrass curse—a curse that ravaged the body, causing relentless fatigue, weakness, loss of appetite, insatiable thirst, and vomiting.

Setting aside her previous project, Hermione dedicated herself to the study of genetics and family curses in hopes of curing Astoria's ailment. Tragically, three years later, Astoria passed away just two days before Hermione finalized her cure.

In the depths of her grief, Hermione buried herself in work, desperately seeking distraction from the harsh reality of her loss. In what felt like the blink of an eye, she had lost two cherished individuals. Three years after losing Astoria, she finally made a breakthrough in addressing infertility issues, yet the victory felt hollow without her beloved by her side.

To further distract herself, Hermione turned her attention to the pandemic known as COVID-19, which swept through both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. She poured her energy into developing a potion to cure COVID, successfully researching, crafting, testing, and finalizing it within a year.

Just when she thought she had exhausted her options, Hermione remembered Henrietta's dream of proving that Muggleborns descended from Squibs. Thus began her next fifteen years of research into genetics and the relationships among Muggleborns, Half-bloods, and Purebloods.

Her findings were astonishing: 90% of those considered Muggleborn were actually Squib-born. To regain their magic, Squibs needed ten generations of Muggle blood and at least three generations of Squib ancestry on both sides. Consequently, many Squib-born individuals had numerous Squib ancestors alongside extensive Muggle lineage. Only 10% of the Muggleborn population were genuine Muggleborns, a fact Hermione confirmed through a potion capable of tracing 2000 years of ancestry to determine magical lineage.

Her research did not stop there; it encompassed Purebloods and Half-bloods as well. Surprisingly, Purebloods constituted only about 30% of the magical population, primarily because their bloodlines were intermingled with various magical creatures—dragons, fairies, ghouls, Veelas, and more. Half-bloods, making up around 20% of the magical community, were typically born to a Squib, Muggle, or Muggleborn parent and a Pureblood parent. Thus, Hermione discovered the magical world comprised approximately 30% Purebloods, 20% Half-bloods, 7% Muggleborns, and 43% Squib-born individuals.

Her research led her to a groundbreaking conclusion: Muggleborns were beings cleansed of impurities and gifted with magic by Lady Hecate while still in the womb. Squib-born children descended from Squib ancestors who fell within that 50% margin of magic-bearing lineage. Hermione’s revelations sparked a revolution, expanding the classifications from merely Muggleborn, Half-blood, and Pureblood to include Muggleborn, Squib-born, Half-blood, and Pureblood.

Upon completing her Muggleborn-Squib-born research, Hermione embarked on her next project—defending against Muggle technological advances. She devised numerous spells to shield the magical community from Muggle discoveries. This endeavor consumed six years, requiring ongoing research and experimentation as Muggle technology evolved at an alarming pace.

Her subsequent project, one she had long neglected, focused on establishing more schools within the Australian magical community to accommodate its growing population. Over twenty years, she successfully opened seven magical elementary schools, five magical junior high schools, six magical high schools, and two magical universities.

By the time she turned seventy-eight, Hermione found herself running out of projects to occupy her mind. She decided to take a twenty-year break to relax for a change. At ninety-eight, encouraged by her children and her niece and nephew, she participated in Owl Racing. To her surprise, she found joy in the sport for the next thirteen years. However, as time passed, she grew bored and transitioned to professional dueling, dedicating herself to it for the next sixteen years.

At the age of 127, Hermione Malfoy-Greengrass assumed the role of Minister of Magic. However, nine years later, the British Ministry of Magic declared war on the Australian Ministry, accusing them of harboring a fugitive. When pressed for details, Delphini's name spilled from their lips within five minutes.

Hermione understood all too well that even after a century, they would stop at nothing to capture her niece, whether dead or alive—though. The war had raged for fifty-three years over this so-called fugitive, and Hermione was weary of the conflict. Yet, she refused to surrender, not when her only niece needed her, even as an adult. She would fight until her last breath.

After a grueling thirty-two hours of work, Hermione longed to return home to her children. Delphini and Teddy had moved back into their old home in Yakutsk about twenty years earlier, restoring it to its former glory. With a new and improved Fidelius Charm in place, the house felt like a sanctuary. And then there was Draco, who, thanks to his Veela blood, had aged slowly; he was finally starting to show signs of nearing sixty.

Hermione's own appearance defied time, too. Ghoul blood ran through her veins, making her look and feel as if she had barely aged a day past eighteen.

As soon as she stepped outside the ministry, Hermione inhaled deeply before Apparating home. She brushed the short strands of hair from her face, heading straight for the living room. For seventy years, she had sported a pixie cut, and she still adored it.

“Hello, Mum!” Scorpius greeted, glancing up from the book he was engrossed in. "Every Magical Plant and How to Use Them" by Neville Longbottom was an enlightening read, one that sometimes made Hermione feel nostalgic for home.

“Hello, honey. Where are Alazne and your father?” Hermione asked as she hung up her blue coat and set her purse aside.

“In the back, on their brooms again,” Scorpius replied, rolling his eyes. “They knew you’d be home soon, but they still wanted to play with those death sticks in the air.”

Scorpius clearly inherited his studious nature from both Hermione and Astoria, while Alazne had taken after her father, particularly in her love for Quidditch.

“Let’s give them a few moments,” Hermione suggested. “I’m sure they’ll come inside eventually. Now, why don’t you tell me about what you’re reading?”

Scorpius’s face lit up, and he eagerly began to explain the details of his current read, sharing what he found fascinating. He also mentioned another book he had tackled that day, titled "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." Intrigued, Hermione recalled her own readings about Rome as they waited for Draco and Alazne to return.

Suddenly, Draco’s voice rang out across the house, causing Hermione to smile fondly. “We’re back!”

“Welcome back! How was your trip outside?” Hermione asked, glancing to her left where father and daughter hung their coats.

“It was good. Welcome home, by the way. I wasn’t sure when you would arrive, so I took Alazne for a ride out back,” he said, planting a kiss on Hermione’s cheeks.

“I’m glad you had fun, Alazne,” Hermione said warmly.

Alazne nodded, her short brown hair bobbing as she did. Her blue-silver eyes sparkled, and her cheeks flushed red from the cold. Observers often noted the striking differences between Alazne and Scorpius. Alazne sported straight brown hair, while Scorpius had curly, platinum-blonde locks that shimmered almost snow-white. Alazne’s blue-silver eyes contrasted with Scorpius’s golden-brown ones. Alazne's skin was pale, almost bloodless, while Scorpius’s was a healthy tan. Their aesthetics reflected their personalities: Alazne favored a romantic goth style, while Scorpius leaned towards dark academia. Alazne loved red, and Scorpius preferred green.

Before anyone could say more, there was a pop, announcing the arrival of their house-elf, Veeky.

“Veeky be letting you know that dinner be served,” she said before vanishing again.

“Alright, everyone, off we go! Make sure to thank the elves for their service,” Hermione instructed as her family made their way to the dining room.

That night, dinner was a quiet and subdued affair. Yet, as Hermione bid her family goodnight, she had no inkling that the night would bring tragedy; they would be bombed, and not everyone would make it out alive.

   When Henrietta opened her eyes again, confusion enveloped her in darkness, yet she also felt warmth and comfort. Slowly, she realized she was in a room with walls painted in a shade that could best be described as cream or off-white. Turning to her left, she discovered she was lying on the floor. Although the darkness obscured her view, she sensed the floor was likely made of redheart wood or mahogany. 

As she shifted, Henrietta noticed a warm body next to her on her right. She turned her head, only to be greeted by a cloud of bushy hair that made her choke and gag. Once she freed herself, she took in her surroundings: the room was a nursery, adorned with two rocking chairs on either side, a crib to her right, and a changing table above her head to the left.

The second thing she noticed was the person beside her: her best friend, Hermione Malfoy-Greengrass, née Granger. They were wrapped in a thin white blanket, and Hermione looked as if she hadn’t aged a day past seventeen, unlike the last time Henrietta had seen her at twenty-two—who had looked forever eighteen. Henrietta felt a rush of emotions; she might have gasped if it weren’t for Draco, who had offered to teach her everything he knew about pureblood etiquette when he discovered her full name: Lady Peverell-Potter-Black-Evans-Slytherin-Ravenclaw-Gryffindor. Of course, Hermione was not exempt from that etiquette either, as she was one of Draco’s fiancées.

After a moment of processing everything, Henrietta decided to wake her friend. Hermione sat up slowly, appearing dazed for a minute before her gaze fell on Henrietta. What she did next was something Henrietta hadn't anticipated. Upon seeing her best friend very much alive and breathing, Hermione lunged at Henrietta, pulling her into a tight embrace. The hug was so tight that Henrietta might have thought Hermione was ensuring she wasn’t a figment of her imagination, that she hadn’t simply disappeared into thin air.

“Rietta!” Hermione cried, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re alive!” She sobbed quietly into Henrietta’s shoulder for a few moments before sitting up straight. “I’m alive?”

Henrietta gently pushed Hermione back so she could see her friend’s face better—and to catch her breath, as she was being suffocated by Hermione’s fluffy hair. Tears streamed down Hermione’s face, her expression a mixture of joy and relief. Henrietta hesitated to pry, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Delphini and Teddy had been only five years old when she had died—hadn’t she? Now, she had awakened in a strange room and she was certain she was seventeen again.

“Hermione,” Henrietta said softly, her nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “I need you to calm down for me, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione replied, her voice gentle as she wiped away her tears. “Just give me a moment.” She continued to dab at her eyes before letting out a laugh. “This isn’t very ladylike of me, is it?”

“No,” Henrietta admitted with a soft chuckle. “It’s really not.”

It took Hermione just a few more minutes to compose herself. While she calmed down, Henrietta began to explore the room, starting with the crib. There, nestled within, lay her future daughter, Delphini. At barely a month old, she had white-blonde hair and familiar red eyes.

Delphini was just as precious as the first day Henrietta had held her. Without hesitation, she scooped the baby up and made her way to one of the rocking chairs. Cradling the infant close, Henrietta felt a surge of familiarity. As if sensing her mother’s presence, Delphini snuggled into Henrietta’s chest and promptly fell asleep. When Hermione had finally composed herself, she settled into the other rocking chair.

“Can you tell me what happened after I died?” Henrietta asked, her voice steady but laced with curiosity.

“Well, I can give you a summary at best,” Hermione began. “Five years after your death, Astoria and I had two beautiful children. I gave birth to a girl named Alazne Ester Malfoy-Greengrass, and Astoria had a boy named Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy-Greengrass. I blood-adopted Scorpius, and Astoria did the same for Alazne. 

Then, we received devastating news when the healer informed Astoria that she could no longer have children. Her first and only pregnancy had caused significant damage, and it was a miracle she survived. Hearing this, I vowed never to have another child until I found a cure for Astoria and others like her. 

Six years later, when I was thirty-three, Astoria fell ill with what she called the Greengrass curse. I set aside my project and dove into genetics and the theory of family curses to find a cure. Unfortunately, by the time I discovered the remedy three years later, it was too late—Astoria died just two days before the cure was finalized.

After that, I dedicated myself to my work. Four years after Astoria's death, just as a pandemic broke out in the Muggle world, I made a breakthrough on a cure for infertility issues. I shifted my focus to creating a potion to combat COVID and successfully developed a cure in just a year. Then, I immersed myself in Muggleborn research for the next fifteen years. I also helped create spells to defend against Muggle technology and constructed seven magical elementary schools, five magical junior highs, six magical high schools, and two magical universities over the course of twenty years.

When I turned seventy-eight, I took a twenty-year break, but that got boring quickly. My kids and your kid introduced me to owl racing when I turned ninety-eight. At one hundred eleven, I took up dueling, but that didn’t last long. When I was 127, I became the Minister of Magic in Australia. Then, nine years later, at 136, the British Ministry declared war on us for ‘harboring a fugitive.’ It turns out the fugitive they were referring to was Delphini.

I refused to stand by and chose to fight to protect Delphini for the next forty-four years—she’s my niece, after all.” Hermione spoke rapidly, her words tumbling out in a rush. But she wasn’t finished. “Then the British Ministry pulled something so sneaky, so evil that I can’t even begin to express my anger.

They attacked in the middle of the night with old Muggle bombs from the 1950s. I have no idea how they acquired them. My babies and my husband died in the crossfire, and the only solace I could find was that Delphini and Teddy hadn’t lived with us for over twenty years at that point.” Hermione was panting by the end of her speech. Henrietta could sense the flood of emotions bubbling beneath the surface; she wanted to unleash a torrent of scathing remarks about the British government, nearly 158 years into the future for Henrietta and in the past for Hermione. 

But before she could voice her thoughts, the door to the nursery slammed open, revealing that the walls were indeed cream and the floor was dark redheart wood.

Voldemort took pride in being powerful, intelligent, resourceful, and above all, always one step ahead of everyone else. This mindset was precisely why he and Bellatrix needed a backup plan for their unplanned daughter. They had implemented safety measures to protect Delphini at all costs until the war was won. Although they would have considered asking the Lestrange twins, Rodolphus and Rabastan, for help, their status as wanted and active members of his knights made that impractical. To Bellatrix, they remained family, despite her only having seen them as brothers by marriage.

Her parents had been fools to marry her off to the Lestrange family, believing it would sever her attachment to Voldemort. The then-Lord Lestrange, Hadassah, had agreed to the marriage only because he recognized that Bellatrix was suffering, albeit in a non-physical way. His only condition was that he be allowed to draft the marriage contract himself. In their haste, Cygnus and Druella Black had been foolish enough to sign the contract without reading it. The result was a marriage that did not require consummation, would last only twenty-seven years, and, upon its conclusion, would bind Bellatrix as a blood sister to the Lestrange twins.

The absurdity of the situation was that she was married to a twin; twins could only reproduce with other twins unless one of them died. Hadassah had mocked Cygnus and Druella for their idiocy behind closed doors. Who would marry their daughter off to a twin with a still-living counterpart? Fortunately, the Lestrange family adhered to the soulmate system, which complicated matters further.

What was a soulmate? It wasn’t a straightforward concept, but there were guidelines. For instance, if someone had more than one soulmate, they would feel a tingling sensation upon meeting their first soulmate. It would then be up to the second soulmate to find them and reveal their status. The soulmate system did not affect the ability to have children, as it was exceedingly rare to find one’s soulmate in the first place. Voldemort considered himself fortunate to have found his soulmate, even if her parents had tried to separate them.

Bella and he had not planned on having a child, but life had other ideas. How did it happen? Both of them had gotten drunk the night of Delphini’s conception. Bella had been making progress in her mind-healing sessions with her sister, Narcissa, but guilt was a heavy burden that mind healing could only alleviate so much.

Bella felt tremendous guilt over the death of her cousin, Sirius Black, even though she had not been the one to kill him. She had attempted to stun him when she noticed he was getting too close to the veil, but someone had cast the Killing Curse at the same moment. Her stunner and the Killing Curse had struck Sirius simultaneously, making it appear as though she had been responsible for his death. Voldemort was uncertain who had cast that curse, but he had a strong suspicion. It was no coincidence that Dumbledore had arrived just then, having been present for much longer than Voldemort himself.

The point was that Bella had decided to drown her sorrows that night, and Voldemort had joined her. That decision had led to the conception of Delphini. This was why they sat in one of the Malfoy family's many sitting rooms designed for business, discussing their child’s future with Euphemia Rowle at ten o’clock that night. However, fifteen minutes into the meeting, the wards he had painstakingly placed on the nursery activated with full force.

   “Stay here,” Voldemort ordered Euphemia Rowle in a grave tone as he and Bellatrix made their way toward the nursery. His mind raced, contemplating who could possibly be in their daughter's room—there were Anti-Apparition wards in place, after all. His first thoughts flitted to spies he had yet to catch or perhaps an Order member who had resorted to Muggle means to infiltrate Malfoy Manor. 

However, when he slammed the door open, what greeted him was far from what he expected. In the far corner of the room, where he and Bellatrix often sat with Delphini in the rocking chair, sat Henrietta Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, alongside her companion, Hermione Granger. Both girls looked disheveled, their long hair tangled and their faces pale, as if they were unwell. The only distinction between them was that Henrietta appeared on the verge of collapse, while Hermione wore an expression that seemed to fluctuate between anger, relief, and the brink of tears. It was a strange combination, especially given her otherwise cold, almost emotionless demeanor.

But none of that mattered to Voldemort at the moment; they were intruders in his mansion. He and Bellatrix pulled out their wands, ready to stun the two girls. But the Muggleborn was quicker; before Voldemort could blink, she had disarmed him and stunned him. Bellatrix, recovering from the shock, moved to retaliate, but Henrietta almost lazily muttered, “Accio Bellatrix’s wand.” With a flick of her right hand, Bellatrix's wand flew into Henrietta's grasp, and the Muggleborn quickly turned it against her.

Surprisingly, despite being stunned, both Voldemort and Bellatrix remained wide awake, which should not have been possible. 

“And I thought you were Slytherins and not filthy Gryffindors,” Hermione sneered, pointing Voldemort’s wand at them.

“Hermione!” Henrietta's voice rang out, tinged with a hint of pain. Then, in a sudden burst of movement, she stood up, and a wave of horror washed over Voldemort and Bellatrix as they realized the Girl-Who-Wouldn’t-Die held their only child in her arms. Bella tried to move, but it was futile; no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t budge a muscle. Meanwhile, the Muggleborn pressed Voldemort's wand against Bella’s throat, a chilling threat hanging in the air.

  “Don’t you dare move!” 

“Let’s just have them sit down. Besides, we don’t even know what month it is,” Henrietta said, trying to de-escalate the situation while making a casual remark about their unusual predicament.

Hermione grimaced slightly before walking around them, arranging their bodies into a sitting position. 

“Henrietta needs the chairs more than the lot of you,” Hermione remarked as Bellatrix began to voice her complaints. 

With a flick of her wand, Hermione cast another spell that Henrietta didn’t recognize. It appeared to allow the pair to move their upper bodies, but their lower halves remained rigid, unable to budge an inch. Hermione then glanced at her friend, who had resumed her seat and was happily cradling her future adopted daughter in her arms. It seemed that Hermione expected Henrietta to go first. 

With a resigned sigh, Henrietta looked at her two soulmates—determined not to divulge everything just yet. 

“I suppose I’m going first. I’m Henrietta Liliosa Potter-Black-Evans, and I do believe I’m seventeen again,” she announced, her posture shifting to reflect the vampire etiquette that Firewing had instilled in her. 

“Impossible!” Bellatrix snarled, just as Tom was about to voice the same thought, having had the exact notion cross his mind. 

“Well, it was until just a few moments ago,” Hermione replied, crossing her arms and adopting a look reminiscent of Abraxas Malfoy whenever he was displeased. 

For a fleeting moment, Tom entertained the bizarre thought that this Muggleborn might not be what she seemed—that she could somehow be related to the Malfoys. It felt like an unreasonable notion, almost too strange to fathom, especially given her current demeanor. It was unsettling. 

“Now,” she said sternly, as if addressing children, and for a brief instant, both Tom and Bellatrix felt like children again. “Can we discuss the possibility and probability of time travel later? It is my turn to introduce myself,” she continued, her arms still crossed defiantly.

“Go ahead, ‘Mione,” Henrietta encouraged, and Hermione nodded in approval.

“I’m Hermione Malfoy-Greengrass, née Granger.” She paused, as if recalling something important. “But I suppose I’m going back to being Hermione Granger, so if I’m slow to respond to ‘Granger,’ please don’t take offense. I respond to Hermione better, thank you.” 

If not for all the Pureblood training that Tom and Bella had undergone, their jaws would have undoubtedly dropped to the floor. Draco had married a Muggleborn? And a Greengrass? What had the world come to in the future?

  Before they could dwell on the situation any further, Hermione suddenly stiffened. She turned around and gently took Delphini from a pale, trembling Henrietta Potter. The girl appeared to be turning slightly green in the face before she hunched over and retched violently onto the floor. However, it wasn’t the usual vomit; it was blood—thick, sticky, and the color of crimson lycoris. The sight was horrifying, especially as it pooled into a large, gruesome mess on the floor. 

Henrietta’s friend regarded the mess with a mix of disgust and sympathy. With a wave of her wand, she banished the gruesome stain from the floor and summoned a small trash bin for Henrietta to use. 

“I’m putting the baby back in her crib with a couple of silencing charms,” Hermione announced, walking over to the crib and carefully placing the baby in her sleeper. She then turned back to the two still on the floor. “Unfortunately, it seems we returned not just with our memories but our inheritances as well. I suppose we’ll need coffee for tomorrow.”

Only George, Draco, and Astoria were aware that Henrietta was a vampire and that Hermione was a ghoul. They preferred to keep it that way, but sometimes circumstances didn’t allow for such discretion. They found themselves in an unknown place in time, with no understanding of why they were there. It was prudent to gather more allies.

“How?” Bellatrix asked, quickly rephrasing her question. “How are you here?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Hermione replied. “I can understand Henrietta’s presence, considering she gathered all the Hollows. Anyone who’s anyone has heard about their ‘powers.’”

“Well, I might actually be able to explain Hermione’s presence here,” Henrietta interjected.

“Oh?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“We performed a ritual of Sisterhood about three days after Ron left,” Henrietta explained, the mention of Ron leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Tom and Bellatrix exchanged glances as a dangerous glimmer crossed Hermione’s eyes, followed by a mischievous grin spreading across her face. What neither Tom nor Bellatrix realized was that Ron was the reason Henrietta was with them in the first place. He had succeeded where Voldemort had failed, in a sense, having killed the Girl-Who-Lived. Hermione was not only Henrietta’s best friend but also her big sister—and the girl had just realized that Ron Weasley was still alive. Revenge was brewing beneath the surface.

“I’m going to kill him this time,” Hermione declared, her tone laced with menace.

“Hermione,” Henrietta cautioned, aware that Tom Riddle and Bellatrix were watching them closely. Hermione was treading dangerous waters by letting her emotions surface so openly.

  “No! You listen to me, Henrietta. He killed you only because he was able to find your weakness! If you hadn’t killed him the way you did, he would have killed Delphini too!” Hermione’s voice rose in pitch, fueled by urgency. “As if that weren’t enough, Molly Weasley killed one of your soulmates, and Dumbledore has been plotting your demise for years. When all else failed, he equipped Ron with the resources to take you down. Don’t you see, Rietta? Your life has been one big bloody joke, and I will not stand for it any longer! If I have to sacrifice my own life so you can finally start living yours, then so be it!”

Henrietta hung her head, knowing deep down that Hermione was right. She had been fighting nearly her entire life, and the ultimate goal of both light and dark factions had been her death. What she hadn’t noticed while Hermione was shouting was Tom's intense gaze fixed upon her, a simmering anger behind his eyes.

“What do you mean Dumbledore planned the death of his ‘Golden Girl’?” Tom Riddle, known to many as Voldemort, seethed. If that were true, there had never been a fair fight; there was an underlying agenda at play.

“It’s exactly as I said. He plotted her death from the moment you ‘marked’ her as your ‘Equal’ as a baby. Not only that, but he didn’t like that as she grew, she had the potential to be more powerful than him,” Hermione explained, her voice calming as she crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture of self-comfort. She sighed and looked pointedly at Tom Riddle. “Mr. Voldemort, we should get some sleep. I’m sure everyone is feeling tired after tonight’s ordeal.” At that moment, both Henrietta and Bellatrix nodded in agreement, acknowledging their fatigue.

“Very well,” Tom replied, restraining the urge to grunt in irritation. “I’ll have the house-elves direct you to a room for the night.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” Henrietta said, as if recalling something crucial. “The person you plan to entrust your baby to, Euphemia Rowle, is not to be trusted. In my future, Voldemort and Bellatrix placed their faith in her and entrusted her with Delphini’s protection. However, when the Ministry voted for Delphini’s execution simply for being the child of Lord Voldemort, she handed Delphini over to them for a couple of thousand Galleons. I saved Delphini, of course, but if I see that woman anywhere near my childe, I will kill her.” Henrietta's gaze hardened, radiating lethal intent.

“Your child?” Tom ventured, summoning the courage to ask the obvious question.

“I raised that childe for five years alongside another childe of mine. I believe I have a right to both children, even if I end up merely their godparent this time around.” With that, Henrietta’s eyes fluttered shut, and she fell asleep moments later.

“I’ll release you, but you must vow not to attack me or mine,” Hermione said, aiming her wand at Tom and Bellatrix.

“I swear not to attack you nor yours. So mote it be,” Tom replied, his voice steady.

“I swear not to attack you nor yours. So mote it be,” Bellatrix echoed, her tone equally resolute.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly the two were free, able to move their limbs once more.

“Now, about those rooms…” Hermione began, glancing at Tom with a mix of determination and expectation.