The drawing room of the Potters' manor was bathed in the soft morning light filtering through thick velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the room. It was a space of quiet elegance, usually reserved for family gatherings, but today, it hummed with energy. The usual tranquillity had been replaced by an air of focused anticipation. The room was set in a semicircle with plush cushions spread across the floor, creating a circle of youthful curiosity and an unspoken challenge to each of them.
Harry Potter, his emerald eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and excitement, sat on his cushion, his legs crossed in a manner that screamed "I've got this" even if the moment made his palms sweat. To his left sat Neville Longbottom, a boy whose face held a permanent hint of worry, as if the world had a tendency to leap out of nowhere and dump an enormous pile of stress on his lap. On his right, Susan Bones, a young girl whose studious nature made her the embodiment of focus and determination, sat with her chin set at a stubborn angle, her usual keen energy now directed at the task at hand. And lastly, Nymphadora Tonks, the effervescent ball of energy whose hair was an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors, today settling on a shade of midnight blue. Her posture was more akin to a gymnast preparing to flip than a student getting ready to learn.
In front of them stood Dorea Potter, Harry's formidable grandmother, whose presence seemed to fill the room like a gust of wind that couldn't be ignored. Her sharp, calculating eyes flicked from one child to the next, gauging their readiness, her elegant figure standing tall with the grace of someone who had long ago mastered both the magical and the mundane.
"Occlumency," she began, her voice smooth like honey yet with an edge that brooked no nonsense, "is the art of protecting your mind from intrusion. It's not just about defending against dark forces, but about knowing yourself well enough to stand firm in your thoughts."
Harry raised his hand in that way he always did when something intriguing popped into his mind. "But why should we start learning it now, Gran? I mean, we're just kids. Isn't this something we do when we're older? Like, when we're fighting dark wizards or something?"
Dorea's lips curled into a small smile, but there was a glint in her eyes. "You may be young, Harry, but this world is already testing you. And besides," she added with a twinkle that promised mischief, "you are far from ordinary children. In fact, you are particularly talented in ways you don't even realize yet."
Tonks, whose hair had already shifted to a perky shade of lavender, bounced up in her seat. "Ooo, does that mean we're going to be mind ninjas? 'Cause that sounds brilliant! I could totally see myself as a ninja. With purple hair!" She did a mock karate chop, earning an eye roll from Susan and a soft chuckle from Harry.
"Indeed," Dorea replied dryly, her tone as unflappable as ever. "Let's begin with the basics. First, we clear the mind."
She gestured for the children to close their eyes. "Focus on your breath. Breathe in... and out. Slow it down. Let the rhythm of your breathing calm you. Imagine your thoughts as leaves in a stream. Let them drift away."
Harry closed his eyes, but his mind immediately flooded with images. He thought of broomsticks, chocolate frogs, Quidditch—everything that wasn't useful for calming his mind. He cracked an eye open to peek at Neville, who was already staring at the ceiling, looking like he was trying to meditate but wasn't sure if he'd failed at it or not.
Neville's voice was tentative as he whispered, "I can't... It's all jumbled up. What if I can't do it?"
Harry snorted under his breath. "Well, Neville, if you can't do it, then we're all doomed. I mean, who's gonna keep us grounded if not you, Mr. Herbology?" he teased, nudging Neville's shoulder.
Neville managed a nervous grin, his cheeks turning pink. "Thanks, Harry," he muttered, his eyes still closed, trying to concentrate. It was one of those moments where his anxiety tried to fight back, but he was clearly determined to overcome it.
Susan, always the diligent one, whispered softly, "I think I can almost feel the calm. Just... just focusing on it."
"Good, Susan," Dorea praised her, stepping lightly across the room. "But don't try too hard. You must simply be with your thoughts. Allow them to pass through. Let them go."
Harry, trying once more, managed to push aside his other thoughts. Instead of imagining Quidditch, he visualized a great, thick stone wall—a fortress of protection in his mind. The more he focused on it, the stronger it seemed to grow, until it filled him with a sense of confidence.
Tonks, however, was finding it hard to sit still. Her mind was filled with all kinds of bizarre images, like flying acrobats and a very large dragon eating a pizza. She wiggled her nose in concentration, causing her hair to turn a vibrant shade of red. "How does anyone focus? My mind's like a circus on fire!"
Dorea smiled but didn't let the distraction break her focus. "Tonks, it's about discipline. We all have distractions. What matters is learning to block them out when it counts."
As the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity for the young ones, Dorea nodded approvingly. "Now, I will try sending a thought into your minds. Your goal is to block it. Push it away, and strengthen your barrier."
She looked at Susan. "Let's begin with you."
The moment Dorea's thought entered Susan's mind, the girl's brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, her body twitched, but she gritted her teeth and managed to push it away. "I felt it. But I blocked it," she reported triumphantly.
"Very good, Susan," Dorea acknowledged with a gentle nod. "Now, let's try Neville."
Neville looked terrified. "Me?" His voice cracked.
Harry gave him an encouraging look. "You got this, Neville. Just picture a big, strong oak tree or something. You know, like your dad's garden."
Neville closed his eyes, his breath coming out in short bursts. A tense moment passed before he nodded. "I felt it... but it was like a little bug buzzing around, and I just... shooed it away."
Harry's grin widened. "See, Neville? A mind-ninja, just like I said. I'm basically a genius."
Tonks, who had been fidgeting with her sleeve, turned to Dorea with a big grin. "Alright, let me try! Hit me with your best shot!"
Dorea, her lips twitching, complied, sending a gentle thought into Tonks's mind. Tonks gasped. "Is that a dragon wearing a monocle?! It's terrifying but also kind of... posh?"
The room erupted in laughter, and even Dorea couldn't hide a smile. "Well, Tonks, perhaps it's time we scale back on the dragons and the monocles. Focus."
Finally, Harry raised his hand again. "Gran, this is... not bad, actually. I think I could get used to this whole 'mind ninja' thing."
Dorea glanced down at him, her expression softening just slightly, a fond look flashing in her eyes. "You're all doing wonderfully. Remember, this is just the beginning. With practice, you'll be masters of your own minds."
As the lesson wrapped up, Harry felt a strange sense of accomplishment. There was something about controlling his own thoughts—something more powerful than any broomstick or spell he'd ever known.
"Thanks, Gran," he said, giving her a small, genuine smile. "I think I understand now."
Dorea placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice quiet but firm. "You're stronger than you know, Harry. This is just the first step. The world is full of dangers, but no one can control you unless you let them."
With that, Harry joined his friends, his mind already thinking of the next adventure, and maybe—just maybe—a few more savage burns for Neville. "I'm totally going to be the best Occlumens," Harry whispered to himself, then added in his usual sarcastic manner, "Who knew I'd be a genius at mind shields and insults?"
—
The Black family potions lab was a stunning space—rich with history and enchantment. Tall shelves, laden with curious jars of shimmering ingredients, stretched up toward the high, vaulted ceiling. The air smelled faintly of dried herbs, soot, and something deliciously mysterious, like the scent of magic itself. Cauldrons bubbled on workbenches, their contents casting warm, flickering glows in the dim room. At the center, the commanding presence of Melania Black, Harry's aunt, stood as still as a portrait. Her sharp gaze and poised demeanor exuded an undeniable authority. She was the picture of elegance, with a sort of refined, cool grace—Monica Bellucci, if one had to compare her to anyone.
"You've come for your first formal lesson, and I expect your full attention," she began, her voice smooth and low, like silk brushing against stone. "Potions are not a mere hobby. They are an art. A science. A precise dance of ingredients, timing, and care. One mistake, one slip in concentration, and you could be holding a potion that explodes rather than heals."
The eight-year-old students—Harry, Neville, Susan, and Tonks—sat in front of her, wide-eyed with a mix of awe and nervous excitement. Even Tonks, whose bright hair flickered from electric blue to bubblegum pink, seemed unusually subdued under Melania's watchful eye.
"Today," Melania continued, moving gracefully to the table, "we will brew the Wiggenweld Potion. It's a simple healing potion, but don't let that fool you. Even the simplest potions require precision. Let us start with the ingredients."
She gestured to the array laid out before them. Harry's sharp eyes flicked over the ingredients, already mentally matching each one to its properties. Melania's presence didn't intimidate him—it was a challenge, and Harry loved challenges.
"Flobberworm mucus," she said, picking up a jar. "Can anyone tell me what it's used for?"
Susan Bones, ever the studious one, shot her hand up. "It's used as a thickening agent, mostly in healing potions. It helps bind the ingredients together."
Melania gave Susan a rare nod of approval. "Correct. And what about wiggentree bark? Neville?"
Neville, whose cheeks flushed with the effort of not falling into his usual sea of self-doubt, raised his hand hesitantly. "It's—uh—it's used in potions for protection against dark creatures. It's also good for healing, especially in minor injuries."
"Correct," Melania said, not a hint of warmth in her tone. "But don't let your nerves get the best of you, Neville. You can do this. Every potion requires balance, and that includes your confidence."
Neville mumbled a quick "Right, Mrs. Black" under his breath, the encouragement helping him stand a little taller.
"Next, moly," Melania went on, tossing the herb into the air and watching it float gracefully back down into her hands. "A tricky one. Can anyone tell me what it's used for?"
Tonks bounced in her seat. "It's used to neutralize poisons and—" She paused, a grin creeping up on her face. "—it's great for when you're planning to prank someone, though, I wouldn't recommend brewing it unless you know what you're doing."
Harry raised an eyebrow at Tonks. "What, so you're just casually planning on poisoning someone with it? You know, you'll need to start paying attention in class if you're going to pull off a prank that doesn't blow up in your face."
Tonks grinned wickedly. "If anyone can pull off an accidental explosion, it's you, Harry."
Harry smirked back. "That's because I'm naturally gifted at chaos. Haven't you heard? I'm the wizarding world's next big thing. They'll be calling me 'Harry the Havoc' any day now."
Susan rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. "Could you focus for once, Harry?"
Harry winked. "I am focused. My focus is just... different. But don't worry, I'll get it done."
Melania's gaze flicked between the children with a silent intensity before she nodded. "Enough chatter. Time to brew."
She demonstrated the first few steps: carefully slicing the bark, crushing the moly leaves with practiced precision, and measuring the flobberworm mucus. The children followed suit, and the lab filled with the sounds of chopping, grinding, and bubbling cauldrons.
As Harry added the flobberworm mucus to his cauldron, he glanced at Neville, whose hands were shaking slightly as he fumbled with the glass vial. "Hey, Longbottom. You're about to spill that," Harry said, voice low but taunting. "I'd hate for this to go down in history as the moment Neville Longbottom brewed the first-ever Potion of Disaster."
Neville gave Harry a look that was somewhere between exasperated and resigned. "Shut up, Harry."
"I'm just here to help, mate," Harry said with a grin. "I'm an expert in making sure things don't go boom in the lab. You should take notes."
Tonks snorted. "Yeah, because you're the picture of careful brewing, right?"
Harry raised a brow, glancing at her with mock indignation. "Excuse me, I am very careful. It's just that... accidents happen when you're as brilliant as me."
Susan rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "That's rich coming from the kid who nearly blew up his aunt's office last week."
Melania, always the professional, stood at the front of the room, watching them with a critical eye. "Enough. Stir your cauldrons, counterclockwise, seven times. Keep your minds focused, or I promise you, you'll be cleaning up more than just spilled potion."
Harry smirked, already on his sixth stir. "If we all keep focusing like we are, we'll be cleaning up enough mess for a decade."
"Can you focus and not start a fire for once?" Tonks muttered, eyes narrowed as she added her ingredients.
"Don't you worry," Harry shot back. "I'll make sure the only thing that catches fire is your lack of precision in this potion."
Neville gave Harry a nervous glance. "Do you ever shut up?"
Harry looked over at Neville and winked. "Only when it's seriously necessary."
After what felt like an eternity of watching the potion simmer and bubble, the kids followed Melania's instructions, ladling their completed potions into glass vials. They each labeled their bottles with trembling hands. Harry watched as his potion shimmered with a brilliant, almost ethereal glow. There was a satisfying moment of silence before Melania walked over to inspect their work.
She nodded approvingly at each of their vials, her sharp eyes scanning every detail. "Good. Not perfect, but good. Remember, the key is to always be meticulous—in potion making, good enough is never enough."
As the children began cleaning their workstations, Melania's tone softened just a touch. "Well done today. You all have the potential to become excellent potion makers. Keep practicing, and I'll expect perfection next time."
Harry raised his vial in a mock toast. "Here's to next time, then. Can't wait for the next big explosion."
Tonks rolled her eyes but smiled. "As long as it's not me cleaning it up, I'm fine with that."
Neville, holding his vial with great care, looked up and smiled shyly. "Thanks, Mrs. Black. It... it wasn't as bad as I thought."
Melania gave him a look that was both approving and slightly bemused. "You'll find it's never as bad as you think if you push through the doubt. Potions, Neville, are not just about the ingredients. They're about you."
With that, the children left the lab, buzzing with excitement and pride, ready to face their next challenge, knowing that Melania Black had just set them on the path toward mastery.
—
The Black family estate was alive with the hum of excited energy as the morning sun bathed the vast grounds in a soft, golden light. Birds flitted through the trees, and the scent of fresh grass mingled with the excitement of a new adventure. Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and Nymphadora Tonks, all eight years old, stood in a grassy clearing, their faces a mix of excitement, nerves, and pure curiosity. Today was going to be something special—today, they would be learning to fly.
Standing in front of them with a wide grin and an almost predatory gleam in his eyes was none other than Sirius Black, who, despite being a notorious rebel, still managed to exude an air of authority when it came to things like flying lessons. He had carefully selected a collection of broomsticks, all gleaming in the sunlight, their polished handles ready to carry the children into the air.
Sirius looked them over, his grin widening at their eager faces. He cracked his knuckles. "Alright, you little miscreants, gather 'round! Today, we're going to do something that'll make you feel like you're flying through the clouds—because you will be. Broomsticks in your hands. Wind in your hair. But, uh, no flying into trees, okay? I don't want to deal with a bunch of kids with broken bones today."
Harry raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin curling on his lips. "You sure that's all it takes, Sirius? I thought the whole flying thing was, y'know, magical."
Sirius shot him a mock glare. "I've seen your flying skills, Potter. You're lucky your broom doesn't run away from you. But I'm going to teach you. And you'd better listen, or I'll take away your broom and put you on a muggle bicycle."
The group laughed, even Neville, who was usually shy and reserved. "A bike? What do you do with those, anyway?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine confusion.
Sirius winked. "You'll find out when you're older. But don't worry. You're better off learning to fly the magical way." He picked up a broomstick and gave it a casual twirl, showing off. "Alright, here's how it works. First thing's first: the broom will come to you when you call it. Just hold your hand out like this, and say 'Up!' Easy, right?"
They all mimicked him, extending their hands toward the broomsticks.
"Up!" they chorused.
Harry's broom shot into his hand with a smooth precision, as though it had been waiting for him. He gave Sirius a sly look. "Well, looks like I'm ahead of the game."
Sirius shook his head, holding back a laugh. "Potter, you've always been insufferably good at this. Must be that natural-born charm. Or the fact that you're not trying to be an awkward mess like Longbottom."
Neville, whose broom had first wobbled before flopping back onto the ground, grumbled and tried again, "Shut up, Sirius. I got it. Just… give me a minute."
Susan Bones, ever the perfectionist, gave her broom a determined look and, with a bit of effort, got it to leap into her hand. "See? Told you," she said, beaming with pride, before casting a glance at Harry. "You might be quick, but I'm going to be smooth."
"Smooth like a broomstick on butter, huh?" Harry teased. "We'll see about that, Susan."
Tonks, always the wild card, was already bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Come on, let's go! I bet I can fly circles around all of you." She held her hand out, and her broom responded with a bit of a wiggle before finally joining her in midair. She giggled, clearly thrilled. "Whoo-hoo! Look out, world, here comes Tonks the Tornado!"
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Easy there, kid. We don't need anyone getting too adventurous on their first try."
Tonks, already testing the air with small jumps, grinned. "What's the worst that could happen, eh?" she asked, winking at him before giving her broom a little nudge and rising a few inches off the ground.
"Everything," Sirius muttered under his breath. "Now, everyone mount up, and don't just sit there like you're at a family picnic. Get your bums on the brooms and find your balance!"
The children climbed onto their brooms, some more gracefully than others. Sirius walked amongst them, offering advice as he adjusted Neville's grip and helped Susan straighten her posture. "Relax your shoulders, Neville. Like this." He stood behind the boy, demonstrating the proper stance. "You don't want to end up falling off just because you're tense."
Neville nodded sheepishly. "Right… Got it."
"Yeah, relax a little, Nev. Broomsticks aren't that scary," Harry said with a teasing grin. "And it's not like you're flying a broomstick into a tree this time, right?"
Sirius shot Harry a mock glare. "Watch it, Potter. You've still got the worst landing record of anyone I've ever seen."
Harry shrugged dramatically. "Hey, I land like a pro. I'm just letting the broom feel what it's like to be challenged by my talent."
"Uh-huh," Sirius muttered, not buying it for a second.
"Alright," Sirius called, clapping his hands for attention. "Now, let's start with something simple—hovering. Just push off gently, and keep your balance. No sudden jerks, okay? Nice and easy."
With a mix of excitement and nervousness, the children pushed off the ground. Harry glided up effortlessly, feeling a rush of exhilaration as the wind ruffled his hair. He shot a grin at Sirius, calling out, "Hey, looks like I'm a natural, huh?"
Tonks was already wobbling mid-air, bouncing around like she was on an invisible trampoline. "Woooooo! This is so much better than walking!" she cheered, earning a raised eyebrow from Sirius.
"Careful, Tonks," Sirius called. "You don't want to turn into a human cannonball today."
Susan and Neville had more trouble at first, but with Sirius's encouragement, they both managed to hover about a foot off the ground. "See, Neville?" Susan grinned, clearly relieved. "Nothing to it!"
Neville grinned back, though his face was still red from the effort. "Yeah, okay. But I'm not going to pretend I'm ready to do tricks or anything."
"Tricks are for later," Sirius reassured them. "For now, just focus on getting the feel of it. Once you're comfortable with hovering, we'll work on moving forward."
They spent a few more minutes practicing hovering, and as the lesson went on, everyone gained more confidence. Harry, of course, was the first to zip forward, weaving between the trees with effortless grace.
"Careful, Harry! You're showing off!" Sirius called, but his eyes twinkled with pride.
Harry slowed down but couldn't resist one last zippy loop, a grin on his face as he shouted, "Who's showing off now, Sirius? Bet I can go faster than you!"
Tonks, who had been hovering in one spot like a bird testing its wings, shot forward suddenly, her broom swerving. "Ha! Beat that, Harry!" she whooped as she zoomed past him.
Sirius clapped his hands. "Alright, alright, enough of the racing. Let's bring it in for a landing, before I have to start healing you all."
The kids reluctantly slowed down and circled back to land, all flushed and breathless with excitement. Sirius landed smoothly beside them, a proud grin plastered on his face. "Good job, all of you. A solid first lesson. Just make sure next time you try not to break anything. Especially yourself."
As they dismounted, the kids were still buzzing with excitement, the thrill of their first flying lesson alive in their eyes.
Sirius grinned at them. "You've all got potential. Stick with it, and soon you'll be as good as me. Or, at least, not crashing into trees every five seconds." He gave Harry a pointed look.
Harry stuck his tongue out. "Only because my broom's scared of you."
The group burst into laughter, the bond between them stronger than ever as they looked forward to their next flying lesson.
—
The sun shone brightly on the lush grounds of the Black family estate, casting golden beams across the idyllic scene. The large gathering was set against a breathtaking backdrop of rolling hills, where vibrant flowers and the sound of a softly strummed enchanted harp created an atmosphere that felt straight out of a dream. A massive crowd had assembled, family and friends from all walks of life, to witness the grand wedding of Sirius Black and Amelia Bones. The mood was electric, the air alive with joy, excitement, and the promise of a future full of love.
At the altar stood Sirius Black, dressed in crisp, immaculate wizarding robes, the usual devil-may-care grin on his face softened into something deeper. He was every bit the charming rogue, but today, there was a different energy around him, a kind of intensity that made him glow in a way no one had quite seen before.
"Sirius, you look… restrained," Charlus Potter—who had agreed to officiate the ceremony—remarked, raising an eyebrow as he observed his nephew. "Is this the same man who once nearly set fire to the kitchen attempting to make breakfast?"
Sirius chuckled, his grin returning to its familiar mischievousness. "I'm only restrained because I know Amelia would throw me into the lake if I tried anything crazy today," he replied, casting a glance at his bride-to-be.
Amelia Bones, radiant in a flowing gown that shimmered with the faintest hints of magic, began her walk down the aisle. There was no denying the beauty of the moment—her stride was graceful, sure, and every step was filled with purpose. Though the usual sternness in her demeanor was softened today, there was an undeniable strength in the way she held herself, as though ready to face whatever came her way, as long as Sirius was at her side.
Her brother, Edgar Bones, was at her side, his expression one of quiet pride as he walked her down the aisle. His eyes flicked toward Sirius, where an amused smirk crept across his face. "You better not mess this up, Padfoot. If you do, you'll regret it," Edgar muttered with the dry humor only a Bones sibling could possess.
Sirius, ever the charmer, raised an eyebrow in return. "Don't worry, Edgar. I'll make sure Amelia gets exactly what she deserves. A lifetime of trouble, adventure, and—"
"And plenty of burnt breakfasts," Amelia cut in, her tone dripping with amusement.
The guests laughed, clearly aware of Sirius's tendency to... well, set things on fire, but there was an undeniable warmth in the air, as if everyone knew they were witnessing something truly special.
"Dear friends and family," Charlus began, his voice rich and commanding, echoing through the peaceful grounds. "We are here today to celebrate the union of two wonderful souls, Sirius Black and Amelia Bones. May this marriage remind us all of the importance of love, of loyalty, and of the fact that even the most unpredictable among us can find someone who tames our wild hearts."
"Yeah, because Amelia's definitely the one who has me under control," Sirius added with a wink, earning a collective chuckle from the audience.
Amelia shot him a pointed look, the faintest smirk on her lips. "You're lucky I like you, Sirius Black. You'll be hearing about that comment later."
Sirius chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Noted," he said. "But it's true, you are the reason I'm standing here today instead of in some random broom cupboard where I'd probably be locked up for mischief. Again."
Their vows were a beautiful, heartfelt exchange, with Sirius promising to be her partner in every sense of the word. Amelia, in turn, promised to love him fiercely, support him always, and, most importantly, keep him in line when necessary.
The officiating continued, and after a few moments of intense sincerity, the spell was cast to bind their hands with a shimmering ribbon, symbolizing their eternal commitment. "By the power vested in me by Mother Magic," Charlus said with a theatrical flourish, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Sirius didn't need any more encouragement. He pulled Amelia close, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that had the entire crowd cheering and clapping. They separated, grinning like idiots. Amelia's hand was still in his, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze around them.
"Look at them," Remus Lupin said with a smile, standing to the side with a glass of sparkling cider in hand. "I never thought I'd see Sirius this serious about anything."
Sirius, overhearing this, gave a mock-glare. "Don't start, Moony," he warned, clearly amused. "I might have to remind you about the time you almost got eaten by a werewolf in front of a crowd of ten-year-olds. You want me to tell that story?"
"Well, at least he can't turn into a wolf at weddings," Tonks piped up from her spot beside Neville, who was looking around with wide-eyed wonder. "Imagine how much fun the reception would be then."
Neville, whose nerves had been soothed by the charm of the entire ceremony, spoke up with a grin. "If I ever need a surprise party, I know who to call."
The laughter continued as the reception moved into full swing. The guests found their way to tables decked with floral arrangements that almost looked too perfect to be real. Mounds of delicious food and sweets lined the tables, enchanted to replenish themselves endlessly, much to the delight of the younger crowd.
Sirius and Amelia shared their first dance, and it was something out of a fairytale. The music was soft and slow, but the playful spark between them was undeniable. As the couple spun around the floor, Sirius couldn't help but drop his usual banter, his voice soft. "You know, you really do make me want to be a better man, Bones."
Amelia's eyes softened, and she whispered back, "That's good, because I'm going to need you to be."
Remus raised his glass in a quiet toast, his eyes filled with affection as he observed his old friend. There was no denying that Sirius had found someone who could handle his unpredictability.
The rest of the evening unfolded with laughter, dancing, and a fair amount of banter. Harry, Tonks, Susan, and Neville ran around the venue, causing their own brand of chaos while the adults enjoyed the merriment. Gabrielle Delacour, who had joined the festivities, spent most of her time chatting with Tonks and laughing at her antics.
As the night wore on, Sirius and Amelia stood hand in hand, smiling at the night sky, their guests around them. Their love was a beacon, and in that moment, the world seemed perfect.
"You know," Sirius said, his voice low as he looked at Amelia, "this is just the beginning, right? There's no way we're ever going to let this go."
Amelia squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't dream of it."
---
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