Layer Upon Layer

Gellert grimaced as the healer pressed his thumb against the still tender skin of his legs, some of it purple and puckered, and other patches appearing almost translucent. Even after almost two weeks since the injury had occurred, it was bothering him.

At times, his leg would feel numb, but at others, it would tingle uncomfortably, reminding him that he was yet fully recovered.

The healer hummed thoughtfully, his face barely an inch away from the wound.

"The infection is gone, but the skin is not being repaired. You will need to keep applying the burn salve, but I do not think it will ever fully heal. What was the nature of the fire you were burned with?"

"The flames were golden, unnaturally so," Gellert replied.

The healer nodded, frowning as he continued his inspection.

"It is a magical burn," he murmured, "but does not seem to have come from any spell I have come across. I have not seen damage like this, however, I am intrigued by the pattern."

"Pattern?"

"Indeed, the pattern almost resembles a feather, a phoenix if I am not mistaken."

"Phoenix fire?"

"It is possible," the healer conceded, "but if this was caused by a spell, then how? Phoenixes possess unique magic to them. I know of no instance that its' fire can be cast by a wizard. Unless…"

The healer stopped talking, losing himself in his own thoughts.

"Unless what?" Gellert pressed.

The healer released a deep breath, removing his glasses as he finally stood straight.

"Unless the fire did not come from the wizard himself, but his wand. Phoenix feathers are commonly used as wand cores."

That was not something Gellert had considered, but as The Serpent, would the man not have a core from a snake of sorts?

He couldn't be sure, and even with as much wandlore as he had studied since acquiring the Elder Wand, he didn't know.

What he needed was an expert on the subject, and he knew just the man, though he certainly would not be a welcomed guest.

Not that he would give Gregorovitch any choice.

The man would help him one way or the other.

"I suppose it is something to consider," he murmured.

The healer nodded.

"I can think of no other possibility, but I could be wrong," he acknowledged. "My job is to heal you, Herr Grindelwald."

Gellert nodded, already planning his trip to Bulgaria.

"Do you think you can heal it?"

The other healers that had been treating him had been unable to make any promises, each of them uncertain as to what could be done.

"I have yet to be beaten by such a thing yet," the healer replied. "It may take some time, but I am confident I will find a way."

Gellert breathed a sigh of relief.

The scarring did not bother him on an aesthetic level, but the discomfort it often brought was irksome.

"Then I will leave it in your capable hands," he returned gratefully.

The healer nodded, handing Gellert a jar of burn salve and some pain relief potions.

"Apply it as required," he instructed, pointing to the salve. "Only take pain relief if absolutely necessary."

The healer left and Gellert turned his attention to Cassiopeia.

"Some welcome news, at last," he commented.

"Finally," Cassiopeia grumbled. "Do you think the healer was right about Evans' wand?"

"It is a possibility that should be explored," Gellert replied. "It may be nothing of the sort, but I do not wish to dismiss it. Dismissing things has not been good to me recently."

"Then maybe you will listen to my advice when I offer it?"

Gellert chuckled amusedly, accepting the chastisement for what it was.

He had been mistaken in his belief that there was no possible way that Evans and The Serpent were one and the same, and Cassiopeia had been quick to remind him that she had first raised that concern.

"How are the efforts going to secure our borders?" he asked, purposely changing the subject.

"Better now that we have more men," Cassiopeia informed him, "but we are still stretched thin."

"Something I will remedy when I am well enough to travel again. I still have several places to visit."

"And will I be coming with you?"

Gellert nodded.

"It would be foolish to travel anywhere alone. Evans could come at any time, and though I will be ready for him, I'd rather the next time we meet be on my own terms."

Cassiopeia shook her head disapprovingly but did not argue with him.

The woman knew better to do so.

"When will we leave?" she questioned.

"Soon," Gellert assured her, "but there is one thing I need to do first. A short trip that will not require your assistance."

"To where?"

"Bulgaria," Gellert answered. "I need to see an old friend."

(Break)

"Bloody hell, I thought we were coming to look at a house?" Harry snorted as he peered through the enormous iron gate at the grand building some distance away.

Minerva worried her lower lip nervously.

"I forgot how big this place was," she whispered.

"It makes my house look like a shack," Harry chuckled. "Shall we go in?"

"You're not actually thinking about buying it?" Minerva replied. "Harry, this is too much."

"But it is close enough to your parents that your father can travel here," Harry pointed out. "The only other property is almost one hundred miles away. He'd barely get to see the baby."

Minerva sighed and nodded.

"Besides, it might be nice to have enough space to have our own quidditch pitch," Harry mused aloud. "What, you don't think our children won't want to play?"

Minerva opened her mouth to reply but fell silent as he pushed the gate open and began walking towards the enormous manor.

It was an old building hewn from smooth pale stone with countless windows sprawling the length and breadth, and a staircase leading up to a large set of mahogany doors.

The lawns were as well-kept as Minerva remembered, and though she had never seen the rear of the property, she had no doubt that it would be as immaculate.

Still, she couldn't help but feel this was too much.

Having been raised by a modest priest, she'd never envisioned living in such a house, and even her mother's recommendation to view the property had been given partly in jest when Minerva reminded her of just how expensive it would be to purchase.

Harry, however, was undeterred.

He had never been one to show off his wealth, choosing to live a rather modest life himself, but he appeared to be quite interested in the house.

Whenever Minerva questioned him about it, she could almost see his mind working through several scenarios, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips, but he wouldn't relent.

Evidently, he had ideas, and Minerva knew when that happened he would be unable to ignore them.

Charlus was much the same and the woman wondered if it was simply part of the Potter blood flowing through the, both.

"Look, there's stables over there," Harry declared excitedly.

"You don't even ride horses," Minerva chuckled.

"Who said anything about horses?" he replied with a frown.

"Harry?" Minerva pressed.

The man simply grinned as he ascended the stairs and knocked on the front door.

Only a moment later, it was answered by an elderly gentleman who was smartly dressed and greeted them with a bow.

"Would you happen to be Mr Evans?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"I am here to view the property. Mr Campbell is expecting me."

"Indeed, he is, sir. Please, follow me."

The house was a flurry of activity with several people milling around, seemingly packing the personal belongings of the family, ferrying them out of one of the side doors to the house.

"As you can see, Mr and Mrs Campbell are quite keen to leave," the elderly gentleman explained. "This war has been terrible for them. They have already lost both sons. It is too painful for them to remain."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"The sooner it ends, the better," he murmured.

"You are a fighting man," their escort deduced. "You need only look into a man's eyes to know that he has fought for his country."

"As are you," Harry returned.

The elderly man smiled as he briefly reminisced about a life he once lived.

"I served in the Boer War and against the Germans the first time around," he announced proudly.

The two men offered one another a respectful nod, though they spoke no more of the war and Harry and Minerva were shown into a reception room a short distance away from the entrance hall.

This was decorated much the same as the rest of the lower floor they had walked through, white for the most part, but with dark wooden features, brass fixings, and several open fireplaces.

To Harry, it was rather outdated from the décor he had grown with, but it was likely the height of fashion now, something that interested him little.

"Ah, you must be Mr and Mrs Evans," another man greeted them as they entered, younger than the first, but his eyes were weighed down with deep bagging, speaking volumes of the grief and sadness he'd endured.

"It is nice to meet you, Mr Campbell," Harry replied, accepting the proffered hand of his host, and choosing not to correct his assumption that he and Minerva were married. "Mrs Campbell," he added politely, shooting the woman a smile that was returned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"What do you think of the house so far?" the man asked.

It was difficult to ignore the nervousness in his voice as he looked around the room fondly.

The man seemed reluctant to part with it, but it was clear that he no longer wished to here, not without his children.

"The home is lovely," Harry assured him. "I don't think I have ever seen a house so well looked after."

Mr Campbell smiled at the praise.

"You have my wife to thank for that," he said warmly. "Between her and the maids, they keep everything running smoothly."

Mrs Campbell blushed slightly as she waved her husband off.

"Perhaps we should show them around, George?" she suggested.

"Of course," the man acquiesced. "Where should we begin?"

"We should work our way from bottom to top," the woman decided, and then we can show them the grounds."

Mr Campbell nodded and gestured for Harry and Minerva to follow them.

"The home has been in my family since it was built almost four hundred years ago," he explained "The land was gifted to my many times great grandfather by King James V. It was supposed to be a royal residence, but the king wished to reward my ancestor for his services to the court when he retired."

"He must have been a highly though of man," Harry replied.

"Aye, he was," Mr Campbell agreed.

There turned out to be less rooms than Harry had thought from when he'd first seen the house, but they were exceedingly large.

On the ground floor of the house there were four reception rooms in total, two kitchens and four bathrooms. Adding to these were other empty rooms that were not in use, a resplendent dining room, a billiards room, and two staircases that led to a basement that spanned the size of the building above.

Minerva did not miss the look of excitement that crossed Harry's features when they were shown inside, but she did not question him on it.

The décor changed considerably when they were shown the upstairs.

The white walls remained, but there were feature walls of the natural stone, and some of flint in other rooms along the landing that circled the entirety of the second floor.

In all, there were nine bedrooms, several offices, a library, and a sunroom complete with a glass ceiling.

"This is beautiful during the summer months," Mrs Campbell informed them. "From the balcony in the master bedroom, you can see the summer houses, the stables and the other outbuildings at the back."

The master bedroom itself was a large with a bathroom and walk-in wardrobe attached.

The bath reminded Harry of the one in the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts, though there would be no Myrtle here to disturb him, much to his relief.

"Would you mind if we took a walk through the grounds?" he asked.

"Feel free," Mr Campbell returned with a smile. "We will be in the downstairs reception room we greeted you in."

Minerva followed Harry as he made his way through the house and exited through a backdoor in one of the kitchens.

"What do you think?" Harry asked.

Minerva could only shake her head.

The house and surrounding land was beautiful, she couldn't deny that, and the river that flowed through the grounds only added to the picturesque location.

Harry made no secret of his admiration of the place, but Minerva had her reservations.

She wasn't accustomed to such luxury, and nor was Harry for that matter, but she did love it here.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked. "It will be expensive, Harry."

The man shrugged carelessly.

"I don't care about the gold," he sighed. "It will be an amazing place to raise our children."

"That's twice you've said children," Minerva pointed out. "I'm not having twins."

"Does it only have to be one?" Harry questioned.

Minerva was taken aback, not having considered they would have more.

They hadn't even shared a bed in some time, and the thought had crossed her mind that Harry was no longer interested in her like that, that he was merely doing what he thought was right by her and the baby.

She swallowed deeply; her mouth suddenly feeling dry.

"Would you like more?"

He nodded as he took her hands.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Minerva smiled as she shook her head.

"No, but I didn't think…"

She broke off with a shrug.

"Didn't think what?"

"That you were interested in me anymore."

Harry frowned confusedly.

"That's not true."

"Then why haven't you been near me?"

Harry felt his cheeks redden slightly.

"Well, you know," he murmured, gesturing towards Minerva's stomach.

The woman huffed irritably.

"I am no delicate flower, Harry," she growled, her Scottish brogue becoming more prominent. "I'm not going to crumble to dust if we… you know."

Her nostrils were flaring, and Harry fought the urge to smirk.

The glare that would have once terrified him as a boy elicited no such feeling in him now. If anything, he found it to be quite endearing.

"Well, with the sickness and everything else, I didn't think you'd want to."

Minerva huffed irritably.

"I am still a woman, Harry, or do you need a reminder of that?"

This time, he did grin and Minerva swatted him on the shoulder as she rolled her eyes.

"I don't think my father would forgive us twice," she chuckled. "His religious beliefs wouldn't allow that."

"Then we will get married."

Minerva raised an eyebrow at him.

"What makes you think I'd have you?" she replied stubbornly. "You didn't even propose properly. I think I'd like to be swept off my feet. You've been very negligent recently."

She offered a quip, but her heart was racing.

How had they gone from discussing buying a home, to having even more children, and then marriage in the space of only a few minutes?

"What if I want t be swept off mine?" Harry returned.

Minerva snorted as she shook her head.

"I can't be getting down on one knee," she replied. "You wouldn't expect that of a pregnant woman, would you?"

"What happened to you not being a delicate flower?"

Minerva cupped his cheek before kissing him gently.

"Maybe I'm choosing to use my condition to my advantage," she murmured, feigning a groan as she rubbed her belly.

Harry narrowed his eyes challengingly.

"If you can't manage one knee, how do you expect me to overlook your condition for anything else you want?"

"You will," Minerva growled as she took hold of his ear. "I will not be deprived!"

Harry laughed heartily as he squirmed out of her grasp.

"Shouldn't we be making a decision about the house first?"

Minerva nodded.

"Do we need such a big property?"

"Does anyone?" Harry countered. "It is big," he continued, "but it is everything and more than what we could ever need. It is close to your parents, and it's peaceful here."

"And?" Minerva pressed, knowing when Harry was holding something back.

"There's magic here, old magic," he explained. "It's not from a wizard or witch but is emanating from the area. I can use it to form part of the protections, and I've never had a home before. I can afford it, and it can be passed on to our children, and they can do the same. No matter what happens, our family will always have a home."

Minerva smiled at his reasoning.

"You don't even know how much it is," she pointed out.

Harry simply shrugged.

"There's only one way to find out."

Once more, Minerva found herself following him, this time as he headed back towards the house, and she took a moment to ponder the conversation they'd shared.

Harry wanted to have more children with her, the thought warming her, though she was not looking forward to any more pregnancies.

Already, this one was proving to be difficult enough, but she knew it would be worth it, as would any other that followed.

Entering the reception room, Mr and Mrs Campbell stood, waiting for their verdict on the property.

"You have a wonderful home," Harry offered sincerely. "What is the asking price?"

Mr Campbell sighed in relief as he smiled.

"The house and surrounding land is worth around seven thousand pounds, but for you, I will let it go for six."

Harry nodded thoughtfully and realised he had no idea how much six thousand pounds was. He had not dealt with muggle currency for many years, and the value certainly wasn't what it was from what he remembered of his childhood.

"Is that a lot?" he asked Minerva.

She swallowed deeply and nodded.

"Aye, a little over a thousand galleons."

Harry frowned, surprised by how cheap it seemed to be. He expected it to be considerably more, and one thousand galleons wouldn't even put a dent in his accumulated wealth.

Only a few days prior he had met with the goblins at Gringotts to discuss buying the house and what, if any impact it would have on his financial situation.

With the revelation that he is The Serpent having been made public, the little creatures were quite frosty towards him, likely due to him refusing to return the fee he had taken from their European counterparts for his capture of Summerbee.

They had been quite waspish and snide with their remarks to his inquiries with them, something that Harry had expected.

"Mr Evans, there is unlikely a property that you could purchase that would have any detrimental effect on your current wealth. Now, stop wasting our time and get out."

Harry had shot the creature a grin before taking his leave of the bank, his victory over the goblins on the continent only feeling much more satisfying now.

Still, if Minerva was indeed correct about the cost of the house, the missing gold to purchase it would be recuperated in only a few months few his various investments.

"We'll take it," he declared, much to the delight of the Campbells who beamed in response.

(Break)

"Short of finding someone to cast a Fidelius Charm, I don't think there is any other protection that can be put on this place," Arcturus declared tiredly.

Charlus nodded his agreement as he leaned back in his chair.

Since Harry had taken his leave once more to ensure Minerva and the baby were safe, he and Arcturus had been considering their own security, and having discussed it with Petr in depth, they'd managed to make a few more additions that would compliment the already impressive fortress they'd created.

"Then you should rest," he urged, doing his best to discreetly pocket a missive he'd received.

He had done so rather poorly, and Arcturus immediately recognised the flowing scrawl of his younger sister.

Still, he didn't mention it, though he was certainly curious as to what the two of them were discussing in their back-and-forth letters to one another.

Were it anyone else, the Lord Black would have been concerned, but Charlus was, if nothing else, an honourable man at heart that understood the expectations of courting a pureblood woman, and he would hope that he respected Arcturus enough to not put a toe out of line.

Arcturus smirked to himself, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by his lordly counterpart.

"What's funny?" Charlus asked with a frown.

"Nothing," Arcturus said dismissively, "I was just thinking about what life will be like after the war is over. I'm already married, Yaxley will find himself with all kinds of offers for his heroics, Evans already has a child on the way…"

Charlus smiled at the thought.

"Imagine the talent that kid might possess with Harry and Minerva as its parents."

Arcturus snorted.

"It will have some big shoes to fill," he mused aloud. "What about you, Potter, what are you planning for yourself?"

A brief smile crested the man's lips before it vanished, and he shrugged.

"We have to survive this first before we make any plans."

"You'll make it through," Arcturus said confidently, "as will Evans. After what I've seen from him, how can he not?"

"They will target him," Charlus pointed out. "There will always be those that fancy their chances against him, and if there's more than one…"

Arcturus shook his head.

"He has us," he reminded the other man. "We will watch his back as he has ours. We will make sure he makes it home to be with his child."

Charlus nodded.

"We will," he vowed. "I did think you'd have more questions for him about the parseltongue thing."

"I have many," Arcturus replied with a chuckle. "Do you remember when we were at school and discussed who his parents might be?"

"I do."

"Who would have thought we'd be here wondering the same thing so many years later?"

Charlus nodded.

"Well, he was very open about the fact he is not related to Slytherin by blood," Charlus mused aloud. "He said that the man who murdered his parents was and Harry somehow managed to be infected with his magic."

Arcturus frowned thoughtfully.

"I've never heard anything like it," he muttered.

"Neither have I," Charlus sighed. "I suppose Harry won't ever share his parentage, but that's not what is important."

"What is then?" Arcturus queried.

"Making sure that Grindelwald cannot harm Minerva or the baby. Harry would tear through the bloody world to get to the bastard."

Arcturus nodded his agreement.

"Grindelwald will not get the chance, not with the protections Evans will weave, and besides, he has us," he reminded the other man. "With so many people looking out for them, Minerva and the babe will be the two safest people in Britain. Even Merlin himself wouldn't be able to get to them."

Charlus snorted.

"And the man himself forbid anyone that even came close," he murmured.

(Break)

It had been many years ago that Gellert had last found himself stood before the shop that belonged to the famed Gregorovitch, his previous visit having been undertaken to win the allegiance of the even more famous wand he now wielded.

Gregorovitch had put up a pathetic attempt too keep it in his possession, and it had taken little effort for Gellert to liberate the Death Stick from him.

The duel had been short, and at the time, Gellert had not wished to draw attention to himself. He'd allowed Gregorovitch to live, confident the man would not discuss what had happened with any.

Who would even believe that he had possessed the Elder Wand to begin with?

The memory of his previous brought a smirk to his features, though it wavered as the skin on his injured leg pulled tightly when he crossed the threshold.

It no longer pained him as it had, but much of the scarring still remained to his consternation.

The tinkling of the bell brought the proprietor to the front of the shop, and his already unpleasant features morphed into a distasteful expression.

"Come to finish me off?" Gregorovitch snarled.

"Nothing of the sort," Gellert assured the man. "Come, we are old acquaintances. Let us not be so hostile."

Gregorovitch eyed him suspiciously for a moment before grunting.

"Well, you didn't come here for my hospitality. What do you want?"

"Believe it or not, I am here to seek your expertise on a rather delicate matter."

Gregorovitch appeared to be amused by the declaration, but Gellert ignored the glint in his eye.

He was loath to admit it, but he needed the man's help.

"Why should I help you?"

"Because you are, before anything else, a crafter of wands and someone who enjoys the intricacies of your practice. I believe I have something that will pique your interest, something you will unlikely have come across before."

Gregorovitch nodded.

"I'm listening."

Gellert released a deep breath.

It wasn't often he felt humbled in the presence of another, and though he and the wandmaker had a rather patchy past at best, he truly required the man's input.

"I'm sure that you heard of my latest meeting with Commander Evans of the ICW, perhaps better known as The Serpent."

At the mention of Gellert's foe, Gregorovitch's lips almost quirked, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the former.

"News of it have reached here," the wandmaker confirmed. "I hear that the outcome was not favourable for you."

"It was not," Gellert grumbled, unappreciative of the almost mocking tone of the man. "We have crossed wands more than once, and both times the wand has failed to perform for me."

This time, Gregorovitch did not even attempt to hide the smile that formed.

"And you wish to know why," he replied knowingly.

Gellert nodded.

"I also wish to know how he managed to call upon the magic of another creature to burn me," he continued. "It was suggested to me that his wand may hold the answers I seek."

By now, Gregorovitch was grinning ferally, his eyes full of mocking joy as he nodded.

"The Elder Wand, as I discovered for myself when you took it from me, is not infallible. You may have won it through conquest, but the wand does not truly belong to anyone. Death is a fickle mistress, but perhaps it may choose you if you once more prove your worth."

Gellert frowned thoughtfully, the words of the wandmaker irking him so.

"Would the wand recognise another as a master?"

Gregorovitch shook his head.

"Not in such a roundabout way," he denied. "You won it, but perhaps there are certain things that would instil an interest in another."

"Like what?" Gellert pressed.

"Blood."

Gellert narrowed his eyes and gestured for the grinning man to continue.

"It could be that there is something in Commander Evans' blood that calls to the magic of the wand, or maybe it is just his blood. I wouldn't know for certain."

Gellert swallowed deeply at the ominous words, though he suspected Gregorovitch was not telling him everything.

"He's a Peverell," he murmured.

Gregorovitch shrugged.

"Such a thing would be impossible to prove," he replied.

Gellert flared his nostrils, but he would need to tolerate the man's insolence a little longer.

"What of my second enquiry?"

Gregorovitch scratched his chin whilst he pondered the question.

"Well, for a man to call upon the raw magic of his wand, the bond he shares with it must be deep, a bond forged through many hardships, but for the magic to work in such a way, there must be more to it. A bond between wand and wizard, or witch, is merely a magical connection that can indeed be strengthened, but I have never heard of such a deep bond that the wielder can call upon the magic of the creature that serves as a core."

"But you believe it is possible," Gellert stated.

"I think Commander Evans is proof of it," Gregorovitch replied. "Of course, this is merely speculation on my part. I couldn't hope to give you an informed answer without having studied this anomaly for myself. I would at least need to meet the man and inspect his wand."

"You have not?"

"Why would I?" Gregorovitch snorted. "Ollivander is a very capable wandmaker. I see no reason why Evans would come to me."

Once more, Gellert felt as though the wandmaker was not being entirely truthful, but he had gotten more than enough information from the man, albeit painstakingly bled and not in full.

"So, I must prove my worth to the wand," he mused aloud.

"It would appear so," Gregorovitch agreed, "but I would not rely upon it. The wand may be displeased to be turned on its kin, if Evans indeed hails from the Peverell line."

The thought was unsettling to say the least.

Between the parseltongue and how the wand had reacted when used against the man, it was too coincidental to be ignored.

"There is more to this," Gellert whispered. "You know more than you are telling me."

Gregorovitch smirked.

"I have given you all the information I wish to," he replied. "I would be a fool to give you anymore. You will have to kill me before I loosen my tongue, but I will give you some final words from the very bottom of my heart."

Gellert was tempted to cut the man down where he stood, but wandmakers of his calibre were so few and far between.

He would be doing the wizarding world a great disservice in doing so.

"Speak them," Gellert growled.

"I hope The Serpent exacts upon you the same misery you have to mine and so many other people. You should fear him, Grindelwald. Not even the Elder Wand will save you from him."

With his parting words given, the wandmaker shot Gellert a final look of disgust before entering the backroom of his shop.

After a moment, Gellert left, unsettled by what he had learned, but no longer ignorant.

What he faced was a problem he needed to overcome, and Gellert had never yet failed to do just that.

He would kill The Serpent and do so gladly.

When he did, the world would understand that not even the best of them could hope to be victorious.

If anything, Commander Evans' successes would prove to be Gellert's own triumphs when he slew the man.

Their battle would be one for the ages, and though his visit to Gregorovitch had given him much to consider, Gellert had no doubt that he would win.

He simply needed to prove himself worthy to the wand he had won, and to the world that had begun to doubt him.

(Break)

Minerva watched as Harry went about his work, his wand in constant motion as he walked around the perimeter of their new home. He had been at it all day, weaving spell after spell, melding and layering protective magic over the property, pausing only to take a vial of her blood before continuing.

With the connections the Campbells had, the sale of the house had been approved of quickly, and the few possessions that Minerva had were moved in only a few days after they had viewed the house.

It was yet to feel like home, but Harry had assured her they would make it so.

"Is he still going?" Isobel asked.

Minerva snorted as she pointed to where Harry was, the room with the glass ceiling providing a view of much of the rear of the grounds.

Isobel shook her head.

"He doesn't do things in half-measures, does he?"

The two women, along with Robert watched in fascination as Harry cast his magic, shuddering as waves of it washed over them.

"What is he doing?" Robert questioned curiously.

"He is placing magical protections around the property to protect us from other witches and wizards," Minerva explained.

"Does it usually take this long?"

Minerva shrugged.

"I know a number of charms, but I could cast all of them here in less than an hour."

"And how long has Harry been working?"

"Fourteen so far," Minerva sighed.

Robert shook his head almost amusedly.

"Well, no one can say he doesn't take security seriously."

"Aye," Minerva agreed.

The trio fell silent once more and looked on as Harry walked towards the house, pausing as he reached the back door.

Bracing himself, he took a deep breath and placed the tip of his wand on the ground, and though they couldn't hear what he was saying, his lips were moving as he spoke a long incantation.

When he was done, another wave of magic, this one powerful enough to leave the three of them breathless washed over them and a dome of an assortment of colours formed over the property, encapsulating it entirely.

It was eerily beautiful, swirling with almost every colour of the rainbow before Harry removed to vials of blood from within his jacket and banished them towards the uppermost part of the dome.

After he had done so, a sound of serene trilling filled the air as a golden fire burst into life throughout the dome.

The sound was warming, welcoming even, and caused the hair on the back of the neck to stand on end.

When it ended, another took its place, but the hairs now stood for a different reason.

The hissing was threatening in comparison, and the coldness that it brought chilled Minerva and her parents to the bones as the green fire mingled with gold before the entire dome turned a foreboding red, the deep, ominous shade of blood.

With a final wave of his wand, it disappeared from view, but the magical remained heavy in the air, an invisible threat waiting to strike out at any that dared intrude upon them uninvited.

"I shouldn't be here," Robert whispered.

Minerva turned to see her father wearing an expression of confusion mixed with fear and she took him by his trembling shoulders to calm him.

"It's just the magic," she assured the man, shooting a pleading look towards Harry as he entered the room.

"It's alright," he sighed. "It will wear off in a moment."

He handed Robert a bar of chocolate and helped him into a chair, murmuring comfortingly and insisting he ate some of the sugary treat.

After a few moments, and having eaten the entire bar, her father released a deep breath.

"It affected him differently," Harry explained, "I thought it would."

"But he will be okay?" Isobel asked.

Harry nodded.

"The magic won't have any interest in him as he is not a threat. It will not even acknowledge him, anymore."

"Are you okay, Dad?" Minerva pressed.

The man was still pale but nodded.

"What is this chocolate?" he asked, eying the Honeydukes packaging almost reverently.

"It's one that is made by wizards," Minerva explained, rolling her eyes at the grin of delight her father wore.

"Could you bring more of this?"

Minerva chuckled in relief as she nodded.

"Aye, we can get more of it."

Robert positively beamed as Isobel helped him to his feet.

"I think I will take him home," she declared amusedly. "Come on, dear, I think a good night's sleep will take the edge of lingering effects of the magic," she added, looking questioningly at Harry.

"He will be fine by the morning," Harry replied.

Isobel nodded gratefully as she helped her husband from the house, and Harry and Minerva watched as they made their way down the long drive and out of the front gate.

It clanged shut behind them and Minerva turned to a tired Harry.

"Come on," she sighed. "I think you should be getting some rest too."

Harry smiled as he shook his head and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm not that tired," he murmured before kissing her.

"Harry," Minerva protested weakly, already coming undone in his embrace.

"I will be going back soon," he pointed out, "and when I do it will be to do all I can to put an end to this war so that I can be here for you both. So, can we just take the same advice you gave me all those months ago?"

"What advice?" Minerva asked with a frown.

"Forget tomorrow," Harry answered with a smile. "It will come, but until it does, I just want to enjoy this."

Minerva offered no more protests but yelped as Harry picked her up and cradled her in his arms as he carried her towards their bedroom, wholeheartedly agreeing that the worries of tomorrow could wait until the morning came to greet them.