A Familiar Bond: Chapter 28

His wives were equally shocked when Harry told them how much the Basilisk would earn them. It was worth multiple fortunes, and quite understandably so.

Basilisks were extinct creatures, and the one in the Chamber was perhaps the last of its kind. It made perfect sense for their parts to be so valuable.

Harry was amused to discover that there were people out there who believed a sentient being like a basilisk could be created by magical means. They said the method to create them had been lost to the annals of history. He had had a nice laugh when Antoine told him about people who believed the process involved a toad and a chicken egg.

The truth was entirely different. A basilisk was a magical species belonging to the reptilian family, and just like the dinosaurs of old, they had also gone extinct a long time ago. Magic could not create life, just as it could not create another basilisk. If one still survived somehow, it had to be purely by nature, not man-made.

They stayed with the Delacours for an hour or so, during which Harry and Antoine talked further about his plan to get the basilisk rendered, and the sheer size of the creature by his explanations shocked the man into a stunned silence.

“Dozens of your generations could live like kings and yet never even break a sweat,” Antoine informed him. “You don’t even need to get a job or anything.”

“Simply sitting on my arse all day just isn’t my thing,” Harry replied. “I might not need it, but I’ll be doing something.”

“Well, you have all the time to figure out what you want to do,” Antoine shrugged. It was only a minute later when the women arrived, and thus began another of the arduous tasks they needed to be done with – the selection of their clothes for the Yule Ball.

In no time, Harry found himself surrounded by a cascade of colorful fabrics, dress sketches, and elaborate catalogs spread out on the ornate coffee table before him. Fleur, Daphne, and Valerie were seated with him, each of them lost in thought as they browsed through the array of options.

"This one," Fleur said decisively, holding up a page from the catalog that displayed a stunning silver gown adorned with intricate beadwork. "It has the right amount of elegance and sparkle."

Valerie nodded in agreement, her purple eyes shining with excitement. "It would definitely look stunning on you, Fleur, but we need to make sure our outfits don't clash."

Daphne nodded as she leaned back slightly, considering Fleur's choice. "Silver is perfect for you, Fleur. It matches your natural hair color as well. I guess I should go with something darker, to create a contrast. Midnight blue, maybe?"

Fleur, who had been staring at the catalog, glanced up and smirked. "Midnight blue would look amazing on you, Daphne. I can already see it… Hmm… Indeed."

Daphne flashed her a quick, seductive grin before turning back to the catalog, as the elder Delacours exchanged an amused glance. It had not taken them long to get used to the flirtatious tones their conversations took, and very frequently at that.

Apolline lifted a catalog and flipped through it with the ease of someone who had done this a lot of times before. “Daphne, dear, I think that color would indeed suit you. But let us not forget the accessories. You must choose something that would not overpower the dress, but will instead compliment it. You too, Fleur.”

“Of course, Maman,” Fleur replied with a chuckle.

Antoine took one look at Harry who had been quietly watching the three young women go about it and chimed in with a grin, “And what of Harry? He will need to match all three of you, right? I don’t think that’d be an easy task.”

The look Harry gave his father-in-law was one of utter betrayal as he saw all three of his girls turn to him with matching predatory gleams in their eyes. He sweat-dropped slightly as he said, “I don’t have much idea about all this stuff, but I’ll take all the suggestions I can get. What do you think, err… Apolline?”

The older woman smirked at him, knowing how he had intelligently chosen the safest option present, and she eyed him with a critical yet fond eye. “Well, you have a very strong presence, Harry. And you will be representing your wizarding houses as well. I believe your outfit should reflect that. Maybe… something in the shade of an emerald green? It would go with your eyes and won’t clash with either Fleur’s silver, Daphne’s midnight blue, or whatever Valerie chooses.”

Valerie nodded with a smile. “I think green is perfect for Harry… As for me, well, I’m thinking a soft rose color. It’s delicate but warm, and it should tie everything together.”

Apolline nodded approvingly as she gazed at the sheet Valerie handed over to her. “I can see that. Mm-hmm, this seems lovely, Valerie. A soft rose does seem to add a gentle touch to the overall palette.”

Antoine Delacour chuckled as Harry let out a relieved breath and together, they watched the three young women go about their animated discussion. Sensing the decisions were nearing completion, the man leaned over to Harry with a wink. “You have chosen three brilliant young women, Harry. No matter what it might be, they all seem to know what they’re doing.”

Harry smiled, feeling a surge of affection for his girls, and nodded. “I’m a lucky man indeed.”

It took them roughly half an hour to finally be done with all the specifics, and Apolline sent their specifications to the designer in Paris who would be working on their attire. It had been a few hours since their arrival in the carriage and by the time their dinner was done, it was already approaching curfew.

With a nod, Harry stood with his wives, offering Antoine a familial hug. Exchanging another with Apolline, they bid their farewell and left the carriage.

Since their union, Fleur had started to live with them in the castle, and quite understandably, Madame Maxime had asked Fleur about it. The woman had been less than pleased when she had been told about them but it wasn’t as if there was anything she could do about it.

Antoine and Apolline had explained it to the headmistress of Beauxbatons and when she realized how Fleur had bonded to Harry and the two girls, she had been shocked, but it made her understand them much better. She had agreed to Fleur’s stay in the castle with her partners and that had been the end of it.

As they walked, Harry did not miss how all three of his girls kept sharing meaningful looks with each other. There was something teasing about it and he found himself getting curious about what they were planning.

“You three mind letting me into this little secret plan of yours?” He asked, amused. “You’re even keeping the mind link shut.”

“Impatient much?” Valerie asked teasingly.

“You’ll know very soon anyway,” Daphne added with a chuckle.

As he glanced at her, Fleur merely smirked.

Shrugging, he turned around and stared ahead as they entered Hogwarts. The corridors were expectedly deserted with only a few students out and about, and even they were rushing back to their respective common rooms. They crossed the Entrance Hall and reached the Grand Staircase, ascending the moving stairs. Stepping off once they reached the seventh floor, they walked through the winding corridors and made their way to their private room.

Once they reached the giant stretch of wall, Daphne stepped forward and paced back and forth. A large door materialized out of nowhere and she pushed it open with a graceful flourish. They all walked in together and Harry’s brows furrowed slightly as he saw the room Daphne had asked for. Instead of their bedroom, the room had been transformed into a cozy open space with bright walls and floating lamplights that were reflected off the polished floor. Soft melody was playing – strains of waltz drifting through the air.

In no time, Harry was left standing on his own as his three girls stepped forward and turned to regard him. He raised an expectant eyebrow and saw them grin.

“We figured we could get some practice in before the Yule Ball,” Daphne began, her tone teasing but Harry could detect the sense of seriousness underneath. “You may be the most desirable wizard in all of Britain, but we can’t have you stumbling over your feet in front of everyone.”

“Especially not when you’ve got three excellent dancers willing to help,” Valerie added, her purple orbs sparkling as she moved to the center of the room.

“You three already know I won’t though,” Harry replied, tapping his temple to indicate that they knew everything about him.

“’Arry,” Fleur said, earning his attention. She tilted her head, pursing her lips in that irresistible way, and in no time, Daphne and Valerie were mimicking her to the tee. Harry could not have refused even if he tried.

Amused, he gazed at them as he rolled his shoulders, relaxing. “All right, I can see the sense in that. I’m all yours then. Who’s first?”

Their expressions morphed into looks of delight in an instant as Fleur stepped forward without hesitation, a confident smile playing on her lips. “I’ll go first,” she said, taking Harry’s hand and leading him onto the floor. “Let’s see what you’ve got, 'Arry.”

Daphne and Valerie lowered themselves into armchairs that appeared side by side, leaning back comfortably as they regarded the couple.

The music swelled, and Fleur began to move, guiding Harry through the steps of the waltz. Fleur’s movements were smooth and elegant, her body seeming to glide effortlessly across the floor. Harry matched her step for step, his confidence evident in the way he led her as much as she led him. Fleur’s eyes sparkled with approval as she realized that Harry wasn’t just keeping up—he was enjoying the dance, teasing her back with every turn.

“You’re full of surprises, 'Arry,” Fleur said, her voice low and seductive as they moved in perfect sync.

Harry smirked, his tone playful. “I like to keep things interesting.”

Fleur’s laugh was soft and melodious as he spun her around in a quick turn, their movements fluid and graceful. When the dance ended, she stepped back with a satisfied nod. “You’ll do just fine,” she said warmly with a loving smile. Harry pulled her close and their lips met in a soft kiss as Fleur’s hands rested on his shoulders, her head tilted up as Harry held her by her sides, caressing gently.

Daphne was next, and she didn’t waste any time. “My turn,” she announced just as they pulled back from the kiss and walked over, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him back onto the dance floor as Fleur took the vacant chair beside Valerie.

If Fleur’s style had been all about grace, Daphne’s was about precision. Every movement she made was calculated, her steps sharp and controlled.

Harry met her gaze with a steady confidence, easily matching her pace. There was a silent challenge in Daphne’s eyes that gazed at him teasingly, and Harry rose to meet it, his steps deliberate and strong. They moved together with a certain intensity, the dance becoming a silent conversation of give and take, push and pull.

“Someone else feeling the atmosphere getting a bit too hot?” Valerie asked, fanning herself with her hand as she gazed at the display being put forward by the dancing couple.

“Mm-hmm,” Fleur replied, her lips curling as she saw how their hands were exploring each other, ensuring it was in no way untoward or indecent and yet conveying their mutual desires. Harry’s hands held Daphne by her hips, his fingertips gently stroking the swell of her perky rear as he held her close, while Daphne kept her arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the tufts of his hair behind his head as she kept herself pressed against him, sensuously rubbing her delectable curves against his chest and feeling his excitement against her lower belly. Their faces were mere inches apart as they breathed in the same air, hot against their skin, with their eyes locked together.

“Not bad, Mr. Potter,” Daphne said as the music slowed, her voice carrying a hint of approval and desire. “But don’t get too cocky.”

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Potter.”

As they kissed, their hands became more animated. Harry reached over and fully palmed Daphne’s curvy rear, sinking his fingers into her soft flesh as he pulled her firmly over his manhood. The blonde pressed herself against him, moving sexily as she rubbed her front against his. Their tongues met in a searing kiss as they clutched at each other as if trying to fuse their bodies together.

Minutes passed as they pulled away, their lips puffy and swollen, and bright grins etched on their faces.

Valerie clapped her hands, stepping forward with a wide grin, as Daphne walked back to join Fleur.

“Alright, my turn!” she said, her excitement palpable. She took Harry’s hand as the music changed, pulling him into a lively dance. Valerie’s style was a mix of Fleur’s grace and Daphne’s precision, but with a lightness that made it feel like they were floating on air.

Harry found himself laughing as they moved together, Valerie’s infectious energy lifting his spirits even higher. Her steps were quick and playful, and Harry had to stay sharp to keep up with her pace. Unlike the other two, there was no tension here, only pure enjoyment.

“You’re a natural, Harry,” Valerie said, her voice warm as they spun around the room.

“Just trying to keep up,” Harry replied with a grin, twirling her around in a smooth turn.

As the final notes of the waltz faded, Valerie released his hand, stepping back with a satisfied nod. “You’re more than ready,” she said, giving him a playful wink.

“Come here already,” Harry chuckled, and the brunette grinned as she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she clutched onto him. Harry’s hands grabbed her behind, keeping her hoisted up as their lips met in an enthusiastic kiss.

Valerie threaded her hands through his hair, scratching and pulling gently as they kissed, their tongues rolling around, and in no time, she was rolling her hips over his pelvis, rubbing herself against him.

Daphne and Fleur merely exchanged a heated look as they shot to their feet and approached the couple while the room morphed around them, transforming into their bedroom. They took their places on either side of Harry and wrapped their arms around him, peppering both sides of his neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses.

Harry’s grip on Valerie’s rear tightened and he pulled her firmly against his erection, forcing her to pull away from the kiss and moan out loud. Breathless, she gazed at Harry with half-lidded eyes before eyeing Daphne and Fleur, and Harry allowed her to get off him. Together, the three lovely women gazed at him with predatory eyes and pushed him onto the bed that had materialized behind him.

“We practiced the dance for the public,” Daphne said as they climbed on the bed.

“Now it’s time to practice what comes after that,” Valerie nodded.

Smirking, Fleur joined them and Harry gazed at the three alluring witches crawling toward him on their hands and knees, their faces set in matching predatory grins.

“I can see the sense in that as well,” Harry smirked. “I’m all yours then.”

“That you are,” Fleur whispered as they crawled over him and pressed themselves against him on all sides. The veela leaned over, her blonde hair pushed over her shoulder, and with all their hearts beating fast, smashed her lips against his.

XXXXX

It was over an hour later when Valerie let out a loud wail as she came around her husband’s member, only to be immediately shut up by Fleur who slammed her lips against hers. Meanwhile, Harry breathed heavily as he shot his load for the third time that night, only for Daphne to mimic Fleur, slamming her lips against his in a heated kiss.

Their sweaty and naked bodies were draped over each other, beyond fucked and satisfied, as they lay in bed, breathing heavily.

Harry caressed Daphne and Fleur’s naked rears as Valerie lay atop him, rubbing circles on his chest. Amused, he glanced at the three of them, his lips curled. “So, who am I going to the Yule Ball with?”

Fleur, Daphne, and Valerie exchanged knowing glances, amused. Fleur was the first to speak, her tone teasing. “That, 'Arry, is for us to know and for you to find out.”

Nodding against his neck, Daphne gave him a sly smile. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Valerie chuckled as she gazed at him, her eyes bright with mischief. “But trust us, it’ll be worth it.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “You three are going to keep me on my toes until the end, aren’t you?”

“Would you have it any other way?” Daphne asked, her voice soft and seductive.

Harry didn’t even need to think as he smiled, pulling them closer. “No… No, I wouldn’t.”

XXXXX

The moon hung low over Thornberry Hollow, its pale light barely penetrating the thick fog that had settled over the sleepy wizarding village. The cobblestone streets, usually bustling with the chatter of witches and wizards, lay eerily silent. The neighborhood was one of the hundreds of small wizarding settlements scattered across the island of Wizarding Britain, quaint and lively.

However, the chill of winter in Scotland had the village bathed in snow, and the locals turned their lamps off earlier than usual. It was into this unsettling quiet that five distinct cracks of apparition split the air.

Auror Captain Thaddeus Blackthorn materialized in the village square, his keen eyes already scanning the surroundings. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard, and as an auror for close to a decade, the man exuded an air of quiet authority. He raised a hand, signaling to his team to remain vigilant.

"Wands out," he murmured, his own blackthorn wand already in his grip. "Something's not right here."

To his left, Auror Imogen Fawley nodded grimly. She was a lithe woman in her early thirties with sharp features and piercing blue eyes. Living up to her family name, the woman was known for her exceptional dueling skills.

"No signs of distress, sir. No magical residue either."

"Spread out," Blackthorn ordered. "Fawley, with me. Holloway, take point. Crane and Digby, secure the perimeter."

Auror Ernie Holloway, a young wizard barely out of training with a mop of unruly red hair, nodded and moved cautiously down the main street, his wand held firmly in his grasp. Despite his inexperience, his movements were fluid and precise. He had earned top marks in stealth and tracking during his auror training, after all.

Meanwhile, the stocky figure of Auror Gideon Crane disappeared into the shadows between buildings as his partner Auror Philipp Digby – a tall, dark-skinned wizard with close-cropped hair – covered his flank.

As Blackthorn and Fawley made their way toward the village center, an unsettling feeling grew in the pit of the Captain's stomach. The fog seemed to thicken with each step, muffling their footsteps and limiting visibility to mere feet in front of them.

"Captain," Fawley whispered, her wand tip glowing faintly with a non-verbal Lumos. "The buildings... they're empty."

Blackthorn peered through a nearby window. Indeed, the shop appeared hastily abandoned, chairs overturned, and items strewn about. A silent Homenum Revelio told him there was no sign of life in the buildings on either side of him.

"It's as if everyone just vanished," he muttered.

Suddenly, Holloway's voice crackled through their communication charm. "Sir, I've found some─"

The man’s words cut off abruptly, replaced by the unmistakable sound of spellfire.

"Holloway!" Blackthorn barked. "Report! What's your position?"

There was no reply. The trail went silent. Wide-eyed, Blackthorn exchanged a look with Fawley.

"Crane, Digby, converge on Holloway's last known location," Blackthorn ordered, already moving with the only female auror at his heels. "Stay alert, this could be─"

A jet of purple light burst from the fog, missing Fawley's head by inches.

"Ambush!" she cried out, dropping into a defensive stance.

The air was suddenly alive with curses and hexes. Dark figures emerged from the mist, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks.

"Death Eaters," Blackthorn growled, deflecting a sickly yellow bolt which he easily recognized as the bone-breaker with a shield that appeared with a mere flick of his wand. "Fawley, call for backup!"

Before the woman could activate her emergency Portkey, a gravelly voice called out, "Accio Portkeys!"

Five small objects zoomed out of the Aurors' robes, disappearing into the fog.

“Shit,” she cursed, glaring into the fog that reduced their visibility significantly. It had worsened within seconds, and she could barely make out the Captain, let alone their attackers. Suddenly, the fog seemed to let up a bit and they stared ahead in the direction where the voice had come from.

"Now, now," the voice continued, its owner stepping into view. Both Blackthorn and Fawley breathed in sharply as they recognized Antonin Dolohov's scarred face that was twisted into a cruel smile. "We can't have you leaving the party so soon."

In no time, Blackthorn and Fawley found themselves back-to-back, surrounded by advancing Death Eaters. The Captain recognized the hulking forms of the Lestrange brothers, the cruel sneers of the Carrow twins, and the calculating gaze of Augustus Rookwood.

“So this is where they’ve been hiding,” Fawley muttered under her breath.

Suddenly, Dolohov thrust his wand in their direction, and thick ropes shot toward the Aurors.

Blackthorn whipped his wand, conjuring a powerful, shimmering shield that expanded around them. The ropes struck the shield and sparked off, falling to the floor, and Dolohov was quick on the uptake, transfiguring the rope into a large armadillo that easily made a hole in the ground and emerged inside the shield.

Blackthorn’s jerked as the armadillo lunged toward him and his eyes widened when the creature transformed into a large boa constrictor mid-lunge. He was about to bring his shield down to deal with the creature when it suddenly combusted in the air, burning into ashes as Fawley thrust her wand forward.

“Good save,” he nodded, grunting when a powerful barrage of spells collided with his shield. All the Death Eaters joined the assault, and spells ranging from bone-breakers to concussion hexes were flung forth. They were put on the defensive, and Fawley was forced to assist as she reinforced the shield, supplying her magic to sustain it under the relentless barrage.

The ambush had been prepared perfectly, and although weakened from their long stay in Azkaban, the inner circle Death Eaters were still a force to be reckoned with. They moved in perfect harmony, their attack was persistent and unforgiving, and although the two aurors were maintaining their defense admirably, anyone could tell that they were on the verge of crumbling.

Alas, the Death Eaters did not share this opinion. They saw the aurors resisting and keeping them at bay, and all they took away from this was an observation – that they were not strong enough yet. They were self-critical, and they were discontent. Nothing would please them until they took care of their enemies quickly and emphatically.

“Where the hell is everyone else!?” Fawley cried out with gritted teeth.

“No clue,” Blackthorn grunted. “Already down, maybe?”

“Shit,” she cursed once again. “We need reinforcements, and soon.”

Blackthorn nodded. “The Patronus…”

His shield crumbled and Fawley grunted under the tremendous strain as all six Death Eaters battered her shield with spells that kept getting darker and more dangerous by the second.

“Expecto Pat─”

Blackthorn was cut off and a bloodcurdling scream tore its way out of him as a powerful Cruciatus Curse struck him straight in the abdomen.

“Thaddeus!” Fawley cried out as the auror fell over limply, shaking and jerking violently as Rudolphus kept his wand trained on him with a cruel sneer on his lips. His eyes were twisted into a hateful glare as he stepped closer, and there was a sinister pleasure in those malevolent orbs as they remained trained on the struggling man.

Fawley glared at the man but failed to do anything as she kept reinforcing the shield, keeping it upright even under a five-on-one assault. However, a powerful blasting curse shot forth, shattering the shield into a million fragments, and the woman was flung backward where she collided painfully with a building. Her breath was knocked out of her as she fell in a heap, and she knew she was bleeding internally. Her eyes opened blearily as she gazed at the ground, watching how the snow under her was painted red in what could only be her blood.

Her eyes descended as she twitched, and the sight of a wooden stake embedded in her abdomen would have chilled her if she had not been a seasoned auror. As such, she could only breathe raggedly as she gazed upward in the direction where she heard the approaching footsteps.

“Now, can’t let you die on us,” Rookwood’s soft voice felt revolting, and Fawley felt her insides getting hotter. The stake shot out, banished to the side, as the man worked on her, patching her up nicely. Her abdomen sealed up, the blood flow stemming properly, as Rookwood leaned over and pulled her wand from her weak grasp. Utterly spent, she could not even muster a sound of protest as the man pocketed her wand, and she saw he already held the wand of her Captain.

Meanwhile, Blackthorn shivered as the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse kicked in, sending searing pain lancing through every fiber of his being. His nerves felt as if they had been lit up, and it felt like someone was shooting pinpricks all over his skin.

As he lay on his back, gasping for air with immeasurable pain shooting through his body, a boot pressed down on his chest, forcing a painful wheeze out of him. His bleary eyes stared up and he found none other than Rudolphus Lestrange looming over him, glaring cruelly in sheer hatred. It felt as if the man blamed every free person for the hell he had endured in Azkaban and now held them all responsible.

“Not now, Rudolphus,” Dolohov said as he approached, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and pulling him back. With a final glare, Lestrange pushed his boot deeper into Blackthorn’s abdomen and stepped off, forcing the shaking man to cough violently. It did nothing to alleviate his pain, quite the opposite.

Shaking his head, Dolohov stepped closer as he gazed at the downed Auror Captain, his eyes glinting with malice. "The mighty Aurors," he sneered. "Still not so impressive."

With a wave of his wand, Dolohov bound both Blackthorn and Fawley and unceremoniously dumped them on the snow-covered ground. The woman gazed at her Captain with concern shining in her eyes, although her lips were set in a thin line. She had recovered as much as she could after the impromptu treatment, although she did not seem to be in any condition to cast another destructive spell, let alone fight.

The other Death Eaters slowly emerged from the mist, dragging the unconscious forms of Holloway, Crane, and Digby.

“You think you’ll get away with this?” Fawley asked, glaring up at Dolohov as her remaining three companions were dropped beside them.

All Dolohov did was give her an amused stare as he glanced up.

"Excellent work, Antonin," a new voice came, sounding much smoother and cultured. Fawley glanced up and saw the Death Eaters part as a figure approached with a confident and unhurried stride.

Her eyes widened in shock as she gazed at none other than Barty Crouch Jr. who stepped into view, looking nothing like the madman reported to have died in Azkaban. His hair was neatly combed and his robes were immaculate as he got closer, and only the manic gleam in his eyes and the occasional flick of his tongue betrayed his true nature.

“Your skills are a bit dulled, but that is to be expected. I was the same, after all. Don’t worry though. A few weeks and you’ll all be just fine,” Crouch remarked as he came to a stop. His eyes fell on a glaring Imogen Fawley and he smirked cruelly before gazing at her superior. "Captain Blackthorn," Crouch said, crouching down beside the shivering and bound Auror. "I do apologize for the deception, but we couldn't have you refusing our invitation, could we?"

Despite the tremendous pain coursing through him, Blackthorn glared defiantly. "Whatever you're planning, Crouch, you won't succeed. The Ministry─"

"The Ministry," Crouch interrupted, his voice a menacing whisper, "will soon be welcoming five of its finest Aurors back from a successful mission." His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Of course, they may seem a bit... changed."

Realization dawned on both Blackthorn and Fawley's face and their eyes widened.

An amused Crouch stood back up, surveying his prisoners with satisfaction. "You and your colleagues will be our guests for quite some time, Captain, while my friends here enjoy themselves a bit." Turning to the assembled Death Eaters, he said, "Let’s get a move on, my friends. Our job is done here."

The last thing Blackthorn heard before a Stunning Spell took him was Crouch's chilling words.

"The Dark Lord's lives on, and he will triumph. This time, no one will see us coming."

To be continued…