Shortly after the summer holidays began, Harry, accompanied by Sirius, visited the Granger family with carefully prepared gifts. Mr. Granger, though outwardly welcoming, couldn't help but give Harry—the boy who'd "stolen" his daughter—a bit of a hard time. However, with his wife and daughter firmly on Harry's side, Mr. Granger had little choice but to grudgingly accept his future son-in-law.
After spending a few days at the Grangers' home, Harry returned to his house in Godric's Hollow via the Floo Network.
On July 31st, Harry, as was his routine, completed his morning exercises in the woods and jogged back home for a refreshing hot shower. While eating the breakfast Dobby had prepared, he made his way to the second floor, weighing the wand he'd recently crafted in his hand and pondering what to name it.
"Crafted" might be a generous term—Harry was more like someone refurbishing a second-hand car. He'd taken a wand he bought in Hogsmeade last year, disassembled it, redesigned the magical conduits, added a few new components, and reassembled it. Its functionality was modest: it had a permanently embedded Lumos spell and could amplify spellcasting power to a degree. Harry had tested it—where his regular wand's output was a baseline of one, this modified wand's output was about 1.5. For comparison, the wand's output before modification was a mere 0.7.
"Radiant Wand, how's that?" a voice chimed unexpectedly from behind him.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Harry turned in surprise to see a girl in a knee-length blue dress and black leather shoes, her hands clasped behind her back, smiling at him from the second-floor staircase.
"Have you forgotten what day it is?" Hermione stepped forward, greeting the portraits of Harry's ancestors before handing him a small parcel. "Happy birthday, you silly goose!"
"And it's not just me—my parents made time to come see you too," Hermione added, tugging Harry's arm and pulling him downstairs. "I was going to take the car, but Dad insisted on trying Floo Powder to see what it's like…"
"Let's just say, wizard travel is convenient, but… it's a bit much for someone not in top shape," Mr. Granger said, his face pale as he sat on the living room sofa, still recovering from the dizzying sensation of the Floo Network. Mrs. Granger, on the other hand, was faring much better, already halfway through exploring Harry's living room with curiosity.
Seeing Mr. Granger's discomfort, Harry quickly called for Dobby to brew a cup of tea. When the Grangers saw Dobby, their eyes lit up with fascination—they'd never seen a house-elf before. Mr. Granger, momentarily forgetting his Floo-induced nausea, joined his wife in chatting with the slightly overwhelmed Dobby, who found himself pulled into conversation.
Meanwhile, Hermione turned to Harry with a hint of concern. "By the way, Harry, has Ron written to you this month? I haven't gotten a single letter from him. Do you think something's happened?"
"Ron's letters?" Harry paused, realizing Hermione was right. It had been nearly a month since he'd heard from Ron. The letter he'd sent last week had gone unanswered. Even during previous summers, when the Weasleys traveled to places like Egypt to visit Bill, Ron had managed to send a letter every week or so.
"Maybe they're just busy…" Harry said, though he wasn't entirely convinced. Their conversation was interrupted by a startled exclamation from the kitchen. Rushing over, they found Mrs. Granger marveling at Dobby's kitchen magic, her surprise quickly turning to delight.
By noon, Sirius arrived with Lupin, knocking on Harry's door. With them were Neville, a frail-looking middle-aged couple with prematurely white hair despite appearing no older than forty, and a cheerful elderly woman.
"Welcome, Sirius, Uncle Lupin!" Harry hugged them both before turning to Neville and the others. After greeting Neville and his grandmother, he faced the middle-aged couple, noting the striking resemblance between them and Neville. Extending his hand, he said, "Mr. Longbottom, Mrs. Longbottom, pleasure to meet you."
"You look almost exactly like your father, Harry," Mr. Longbottom said, shaking his hand. "Except for those eyes—they're Lily's, through and through." Mrs. Longbottom offered Harry a gentle smile.
The group settled into the living room, which, with eight people now crowded in, suddenly felt a bit cramped. Thankfully, the sofa was large enough for everyone to sit comfortably and chat.
"Neville, how come you've never mentioned your parents to us?" Hermione asked, passing teacups to Sirius and the others before settling beside Harry with her own cup of tea, her curiosity piqued.
"What?" Neville's grandmother said sharply. "You haven't told your friends about your parents, Neville?"
Neville, seated between his parents, shook his head. Noticing his discomfort, Mrs. Longbottom gently placed an arm around his shoulders.
"You should be proud, Neville. Proud!" Mrs. Longbottom said, her voice tinged with indignation. "They sacrificed their health and sanity, not so their only son could feel ashamed of them!"
"Sacrificed their health and sanity?" Harry, Hermione, and the Grangers exchanged puzzled glances. The toll on the Longbottoms' health was evident in their appearance, but… sanity?
Mr. Longbottom, noticing their confusion, spoke up. "Thirteen years ago, Alice and I were tortured into madness by Bellatrix Lestrange and a group of Death Eaters. Until last year, we were barely more than shells, unable to care for ourselves, living in Ward 49 at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, kept alive by the staff. But last summer, when Neville visited and used his remarkable ability to heal a cut on Alice's hand from a fruit knife, he discovered that his energy could aid our recovery. Even during the school year, Neville came to the hospital every weekend to treat us. Alice regained her senses before Christmas, and I followed around February. After thirteen years, I could finally control my body again—and it's all thanks to you, Harry."
Mr. Longbottom smiled warmly at Harry. "I'm certain James and Lily would be proud of everything you've done."
"Of course they would! He's James and Lily's son, after all!" Sirius said proudly, clapping Lupin on the shoulder. The group continued chatting, and soon Mrs. Granger volunteered to showcase some non-magical cuisine. Dragging her chess-obsessed husband away from a game, she headed out to buy ingredients.
The afternoon filled the three-story house with joyful laughter. Harry and Hermione's worries about Ron were eased when Pigwidgeon delivered a birthday gift from him. Though there was no letter included, the gift reassured them that the Weasleys were likely fine.
After a busy afternoon in the kitchen, Mrs. Granger and Dobby proudly presented platters of delicious food. Sirius, ever the showman, retrieved two dozen bottles of Butterbeer and a massive 24-inch cake from the boot of his car.
Raising a bottle high, Sirius grinned broadly. "To Harry's fifteenth birthday—cheers!"
Everyone raised their glasses, but just then, a knock came at the door.
Harry, closest to the entrance, opened it and was stunned to see Professor Dumbledore standing there, dressed in a sky-blue robe.
"Professor Dumbledore? What are you…" Harry stammered, caught off guard by his headmaster's unexpected appearance.
"I know it's rude to drop by unannounced, Harry, but might you invite me in?" Dumbledore said with a playful wink.
"Of course, Professor, come in!" Harry ushered him inside. "It's my birthday, and we've got plenty of food—would you like to join us?"
Dumbledore's eyes swept over the crowded living room, lingering briefly on the Longbottoms with a warm smile. Patting Harry's shoulder, he said, "Happy birthday, Harry. It seems I've arrived at just the right moment."
The Grangers, initially curious about this white-bearded man they'd seen at the Triwizard Tournament, were awestruck when Hermione whispered that he was Hogwarts' headmaster. The idea of a centenarian looking so spry left them in quiet reverence.
The feast stretched on for over two hours, filled with laughter and warmth. Only after everyone was full did Dumbledore finally reveal the reason for his visit.
"You want me to go with you to Austria?" Harry asked, puzzled.
Dumbledore nodded, a trace of relief in his voice. "Given the circumstances, I believe it's my only option."
"What option?" Harry pressed, still confused.
Dumbledore didn't answer directly. He gazed out the window into the darkness for a long moment before speaking slowly. "Two weeks ago, I tracked down one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Following the trail to the Gaunt family home—Voldemort's mother's ancestral residence—I encountered Tom…"
"And you didn't defeat him?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"No," Dumbledore admitted with a weary smile. "I used the most complex and powerful magic I know, yet I couldn't stop him. To save me, Fawkes took an Avada Kedavra… If I hadn't had Fawkes with me, you'd likely be speaking to my ashes now."
Harry's heart sank as Dumbledore continued. "I sensed something in Voldemort—a transformation beyond even the darkest magical alterations. Something sinister, incomprehensible. Against that, I alone cannot ensure the safety of Hogwarts or the wizarding world."
"Harry, if you agree to come with me, I'll arrange our travel documents. If you choose not to, I'll still have them prepared. For now, goodnight, Harry."
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured an ornate bed in the living room and lay down, still fully clothed.
Harry mulled over Dumbledore's words as he climbed the stairs. In the dim light, he caught sight of Hermione's determined brown eyes.
"I'm coming too!" she declared, her tone daring him to argue.
In a dimly lit room, Voldemort stared at a faintly glowing prophecy orb. Since acquiring it, he'd listened to its words—spoken fourteen years ago—at least twenty times.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him… born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…
No matter how many times he heard it, he couldn't escape the truth: his own actions had fulfilled the prophecy, choosing Harry Potter as his nemesis.
His repeated failures against Harry made it clear—Voldemort, as he was now, couldn't even conquer a school, let alone the world. At this rate, he might find himself defeated by Harry Potter and Dumbledore combined.
Slowly, Voldemort's gaze settled on the Hufflepuff Cup before him.
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