When I finally returned to the Three Broomsticks, the place was quiet in that late-night way that only happened after a crisis. The fire still burned low and warm, casting amber light over the familiar wood and stone, and for the first time since the battle ended, I felt the tension truly begin to leave my shoulders.
Aurora and Rosmerta were still awake, waiting for me in the room.
They looked up the moment I stepped inside, relief flashing across both their faces. Rosmerta crossed the room first, her hands already reaching for the clasps of my battle robes, while Aurora came up on my other side, fingers brushing over my arms and shoulders as if checking for wounds by instinct alone.
"How did it go?" Rosmerta asked softly as she helped slide the heavy robes from my shoulders.
Aurora tugged at the collar, inspecting me with a critical eye. "You really didn't get scratched, did you?"
"I'm perfectly intact," I said, letting out a long breath as the weight of the robes finally left me. "Not a tear, not a bruise. Honestly, they didn't even come close."
Rosmerta smiled, satisfied, and draped the robes over a chair. "Good. Now tell us everything, what happened?"
"Everything worked out perfectly," I said, leaning back slightly as Aurora continued her inspection anyway. "All the werewolves were transferred to reinforced holding cells at the Ministry. Layers of wards, enchanted bars, the whole unpleasant package. Madam Bones says the trial should be held on Monday."
Aurora's expression sharpened with interest. "And Greyback?"
"According to Bones, she's fairly certain he's getting either the Kiss or the Veil," I replied. "She didn't say it lightly."
Aurora nodded once. "That is good news."
Rosmerta hesitated, then tilted her head slightly, studying my face. "That's not what I meant, though."
Aurora paused, finally looking up at me properly. "How did things go with Nymphadora?"
"Oh." My smile faltered before I could stop it. The warmth of the room suddenly felt a little dimmer. "That."
They both waited.
"Things aren't looking good," I admitted quietly. "It turns out she didn't know about my relationship with you two. She thought all the articles were just lies and gossip."
Rosmerta's brows drew together. "Oh dear."
"She wanted to end things right there," I continued, staring at the fire. "And honestly, I can't say I blame her. I managed to convince her to delay the decision for a few days. I asked her to think about it properly before making up her mind."
Aurora slipped her hand into mine, squeezing gently.
"But," I added, my voice lower now, "if I'm being honest, I don't think it's going to work."
Rosmerta frowned, stepping closer. "You shouldn't assume the worst."
"I know," I said, though the words rang hollow even to my own ears.
She hesitated, then said carefully, "Maybe we should talk to her. Together. Clear the air."
I shook my head immediately. "No. Thank you, but no. This is something I need to handle myself. If you get involved, it might only make things worse."
They exchanged a glance, neither fully convinced, but they didn't argue.
I straightened, forcing a lighter tone as I looked between them. "Now. About that celebration you promised earlier?"
I wiggled my eyebrows exaggeratedly. "I really am in desperate need of something to lift my spirits right now."
Aurora let out a soft laugh despite herself. Rosmerta rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth curved upward.
"You are unbelievable," Rosmerta said fondly.
"And exhausting," Aurora added, shaking her head.
"But," Rosmerta continued, stepping closer again, "you did save lives tonight."
"And you came home to us," Aurora said, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.
They both smiled then, that familiar shared smile that never failed to steady me, even when everything else felt uncertain.
Maybe the world was complicated. Maybe hearts were messier than any dark magic. But for this moment, standing here with the fire crackling and their warmth on either side of me, I let myself breathe.
Whatever happened next, at least I wasn't facing it alone.
…
Sunday, October 31, 1993
The next day was Sunday, which meant that, once again, I found myself standing at the threshold of Grindelwald's hideout.
The place never changed. The air always felt heavier the moment I stepped inside, like the stone itself remembered too many secrets. The torches burned with steady blue flames that cast sharp, unforgiving shadows along the walls, and the faint hum of layered enchantments thrummed beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.
I had barely taken a step inside when his voice cut through the space.
"Over thirty werewolves," Grindelwald said mildly. "Not bad for a total novice."
I grimaced. Of course he knew.
"But," he continued, circling slowly from the shadows, "you could have handled them easily with just Protego Diabolica. There was no need to show off so much and use all those flashy spells."
I rolled my eyes and closed the door behind me.
"Of course you were watching," I said dryly. "And if I had done exactly as you suggested, there wouldn't have been a single werewolf left to stand trial."
I glanced at him sideways. "Also, you don't have to sound so jealous just because I used Dumbledore's magic to deal with them."
Grindelwald stopped.
Slowly, he turned his head toward me, his mismatched eyes narrowing.
"Jealous?" he scoffed. "Of Albus?"
He waved a dismissive hand. "Please."
Then, after a brief pause, he smirked. "Though I suppose I can understand why you enjoy borrowing his little tricks."
I snorted. "They're effective."
"They're restrained," he corrected. "That is not the same thing."
He stepped closer, boots clicking softly against the stone. "Still, since you insist that my magic is too lethal for your delicate moral sensibilities, today I will indulge you."
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"Today," Grindelwald said, "I'm going to teach you spells that can neutralize your opponents without reducing them to ash."
That sounded promising.
"Crippling charms. Nerve disruption. Controlled structural damage." His smile turned sharp. "A bit of maiming should be perfectly acceptable."
He tilted his head slightly. "Unless you are truly such a goody-two-shoes that even that is too much for you."
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.
"I think I can work with that," I said. "There are some people I know who absolutely deserve a very educational amount of suffering."
Grindelwald's grin widened.
"That," he said approvingly, "is exactly what I like to hear."
With a flick of his wand, the far end of the room shifted. Stone rippled and reformed, shaping itself into a wide dueling circle etched with faint runes. A moment later, animated constructs rose from the floor, vaguely humanoid, solid enough to hit back and ugly enough to inspire enthusiasm.
"Lesson one," Grindelwald said calmly. "Power is not measured by how loudly the world explodes."
He pointed his wand at one of the constructs.
"It is measured by how completely your enemy understands that resisting you was a mistake."
The spell he cast didn't burn.
It twisted.
The construct collapsed in on itself, limbs locking at impossible angles, its core rune flickering violently before going dark.
I felt my lips curve into a slow smile.
"Oh," I said. "Yes. I am definitely going to enjoy today."
…