HP: Fairborn Adventures

December 24h, 1977

She strolled past rich red and golden tapestries, battle-worn suits of armor and large portraits. Harry's ancestors regarded her critically from within their ancient frames, shooting her appraising nods when they couldn't find anything to fault.

Even if she wasn't as familiar with the layout of Potter Manor, it would have been rather easy to locate the part of the estate she was heading to; she would simply have to follow her nose to get to the kitchen.

"Good morning, my dear." Dorea smiled at her, glancing over her shoulder while handling a pan over the gas stove: "How did you sleep?"

"Good, thank you." Marlene stepped next to her: "I hope you did too?"

"It could've been better." The older witch sighed and tightened the belt on her white muggle bathrobes: "Charlus started snoring in his sleep around the time James went to Hogwarts. I sometimes have to silence him a bit."

Marlene snorted.

"Harry only snores when he sleeps on his back. Then I usually roll off of him and try to- ." Marlene's laughter died and a small blush crept up her cheek when she realized what she just admitted.

"Don't worry about that, dear." Dorea chuckled, waving it off. "I know you're both responsible, so I don't mind what you do as long as you don'tmake me an honorary grandmother just yet."

'Great grandmother then.' She forced a smile on her face: 'Technically you are a grandmother already...'

"But tell me, what brings you down here in the kitchen so early?" Dorea asked, stirring a wooden spoon in a large pot: "I doubt that Harry is up already."

"No, he's still asleep." Marlene admitted, biting her bottom lip: "And- and I was hoping you'd allow me to help you prepare breakfast. I- I'd like to get a bit better at cooking and some of the other household chores."

"Is that so?" Dorea paused and looked at her in amusement: "I'm not actually surprised it hasn't been taught to you by your own mother. Old families like ours don't usually bother with it when we've got plenty of house-elves happy to perform any tasks for us. But what makes you want to learn it?"

"Well, as you know, Harry learned to do it." Marlene stiffened a pang of anger, knowing her fiancé had not volunteered to do so: "And- well, I'd just like to be a bit better prepared for, you know, when eventually, we will..."

"I see." Dorea replied with a small knowing smile on her lips: "Come look over my shoulder then. I'll show you what I'm making for our Christmas feast tonight."

"Yes, please." Marlene happily obliged and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. She toyed with her ring, briefly thinking about taking it off before deciding against it. 'This one stays on. Harry stays with me.'

"I don't think I took mine off for almost six months after Charlus proposed to me." Dorea watched her with a soft smile: "Harry picked a very fine piece."

"He did. It was a family heirloom he had found in his vault at Gringotts," Marlene said. 'Technically not a lie.'

"Have you thought about dates for a wedding yet?" Dorea asked: "Perhaps once you've completed your NEWTs?"

"I'd like that." She nodded enthusiastically. A bright smile spread over her face: "A summer wedding sounds nice."

"Well, you're still so young that there's no need to rush things." The older witch chuckled while adjusting the heat of a pan with bacon: "Charlus and I got married a bit later than most; I was 25 already by the time. It was another decade later that I brought James into this world."

Dorea glanced over her shoulder and caught the question that hung on Marlene's lips. "Don't worry, it's not something I'm ashamed to talk about. You're probably wondering why I didn't have a child until so late?"

She nodded silently.

"The issue did not lie with Charlus, but with my side of the family. Luckily he doesn't fault me, despite both of us having wished for more children." Dorea admitted, a shadow of sadness hovering in her warm gray eyes: "'Toujour pur.' My family's obsessive desire to keep the blood uncorrupted led to generations of inbreeding, which is detrimental to the female reproductive organs. I should probably consider myself lucky that I was able to give birth at all. I doubt any of my grandnieces will have more than one child either."

'Could Harry and I have similar problems.' A small girl with long golden hair and vibrant green eyes danced through her thoughts. A black, twisting shadow engulfed her completely and yanked her from her father's shoulder. 'But Harry's mother was a muggle-born. His blood shouldn't carry any of those traces.'

"Don't fret about it, child." Dorea affectionately patted her shoulder, dragging a loose golden curl behind her ear just the way her fiancé always did: "The McKinnons generally preferred marrying witches from the continent so as not to delude their blood too much. With Harry's mother being a muggle-born, I strongly doubt you'll face similar issues when the time comes eventually."

"I hope not." Marlene swallowed a small lump of unease, attempting to concentrate on cooking once more.

"I take it you have discussed the matter of children already then?"

"We'd both like some," Marlene admitted somewhat shily. 'I'm talking to his grandmother after all.'

"Do you have a specific number in mind?" Dorea asked in amusement: "Assuming there won't be any happy little accidents, of course."

"Three would be nice." Marlene blushed:" Perhaps even four. Sometimes we'd imagine a little girl with my hair and his eyes." She couldn't help but beam brightly at the mere thought; an expression that was mirrored in the other witch's eyes: "But of course, I'd like to give him an heir as well. Someone to continue his name and legacy."

"Well, I can assure you they will all be exceptional beauties or very handsome, depending on whether it is a girl or a boy." Dorea chuckled: "But you should know that children are always hungry. Let me show you how to make some good pancakes. With how ambitiously you and Harry approach the child subject, you'll eventually need all the practice you can get."

'That I will.' Marlene nodded enthusiastically: 'Mine and Harry's little dream needs to be fed with something after all.'

Christmas Eve, December 24h, 1977

He watched her comb her long curls in front of the small mirror in his room while humming a happy melody; a content, small smile spread over his lips.

"Had a good Christmas?" Harry seized the brush and took over, letting his fingers run down the length of her golden hair to separate a handful of strands. 'It actually feels like slipping them through liquid honey.'

"The very best." She replied with a small, happy sigh as she closed her eyes: "However, I do still have a gift for you."

"Do you now?" He bent low and brushed his lips over the neck, whispering up in her ear: "And what kind of gift could that be?"

"Not that kind of gift, Harry." She leaned her head sideways to allow him even better access while tiny goosebumps spread over her arms: "Well, perhaps later, but first a real gift. I just couldn't really pass it over with your family in the same room."

"Funny you say that." Harry placed the brush aside and circled his arms around her: "I have a very real gift for you as well and found myself in a similar situation."

She turned around in his arms, biting her bottom lip playfully: "What is it?"

"I can show you once you close your eyes." Harry laughed, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose before stepping away.

"I can do that." With a small bounce in her step, Marlene walked over to the bed, letting herself drop onto the many pillows she had brought through from her own room.

"Wait right there." Harry walked over to his trunk: "And no peeking!" He added decisively when he caught her blinking her left eye open.

"Get one with it then." Marlene shifted on the spot excitedly: "You know I don't like it when you tease too much."

"Just the right amount then." With a small chuckle, Harry placed the colorfully wrapped box into her lap. Marlene's hands immediately started exploring it while he sat down on the bed behind her and let her lean back against him: "You can open your eyes now."

She lost no time and immediately unwrapped the gift, eyes widening when she opened the lid and pulled out a slim piece of fabric, perhaps three inches wide and 15 inches in length.

"This feels like your Cloak, Harry." Marlene tentatively brushed her fingers over the smooth, light gray material, pausing when she found the opening at the top. She looked up in confusion: "Please tell me you didn't cut a piece off of your Cloak..."

"I didn't." Harry replied with a small smile: "However the Cloak, or more specifically its magic, serves as the foundation for what you're holding. It took us quite some time to figure it all out. Aurelius and I are aware that it's nowhere near as perfect as the original, however, it will still work better than anything else you'll find on the market."

"You haven't actually told me what it is yet." Marlene brought the fabric up to hear in an attempt to listen to it: "How does it work?"

"Just put your wand in it." Harry grinned.

"You mean- " Marlene jumped out of his lap and hurried over to the desk to snatch up the slim piece of Hawthorne. She slowly inserted it into the opening of the fabric, letting it vanish inch by inch until…

"Any second now- " Harry whispered.

Marlene sucked in a sharp breath of surprise when the material suddenly vanished from sight, yet her fingers were still clearly curled around something: "Morgana, this incredible."

She slowly pulled on the handle, watching in fascination as the holster came back into view as soon as roughly three inches of wood were exposed.

"A small trip back to Germany ensured that it has all the standard enchantments a usual wand holster has." Harry explained: "You can tie it around your waist or even attach it to your arm and it will only ever become visible once you pull- "

He didn't manage to finish his explanation since the blonde suddenly threw herself into his arms, planting his entire face with kisses until she gently tugged his head down and crushed her lips against his for a final, searing kiss.

"It's perfect," She hugged him tightly, sucking in another sharp breath while he trailed soft circles over her back: "I just hope you'll like mine just as much."

"Should I close my eyes as well?" Harry laughed.

"Yes, definitely." Marlene broke the hug and ushered him back to the bed: "No peeking for you either, or there won't be any other gifts tonight."

"Understood." Harry squinted his eyes shut, hearing her rumble through her closet before she hurried back to the bed they shared.

She opened his palm and let something cold and metallic drop into it: "You can open your eyes now, love."

Harry blinked down into his lap. His heart squirmed at what he saw.

A simple silver chain curled around a hexagon-shaped compartment with a Celtic Knot at its center. He turned the locket in his hands, running a finger over the hundreds of tiny runes and pentagons that have been carved into the backside.

"You finished it?" His breath hitched as he looked up into a beaming, infectious smile.

"I did." Marlene slipped a hand down the front of her shirt and took out an identical-looking locket that hung on the very same silvery chain around her neck: "Two days before we left Hogwarts to be exact."

"It's still locked." Harry noticed when he attempted to open the compartment underneath the knot.

"Press your thumb here." Marlene took his hand and moved it onto the knot: "Then say 'Aeternum'."

"Forever." He swallowed heavily. A soft click sounded from within the locket and a few of the runes on its backside glowed in a faint silvery light. He carefully opened the compartment, staring at his own reflection in a small spotless mirror.

"Harry." The blonde next to him called his name.

Suddenly the locket grew warm in his hand. His reflection flickered on the smooth surface of the mirror until ebony hair turned golden, emerald green eyes turned ice blue, yet the bright smile remained.

"I knew you could do it," Harry whispered in amazement. He glanced up to exchange a small smile before they each returned to the mirror, sending a wave back and forth. "And it's perfect."

"Of course I did." Marlene closed her own locket and stepped right in front of him: "I carry you with me now wherever I go."

"Right here." She took his hand and pointed at the golden band around her finger.

"Here as well." Next, she pointed at the locket around her slim neck.

"And of course, right here." She placed his hand over her left breast, right above her heart.

He caught the steady, rhythmic beating underneath the tips of his fingers. Yet he was unable to speak when her lips drew closer and she pressed herself against him. "You'll always be with me, Harry. And I'll always be with you."

December 29th, 1977

A towering, majestic mansion surrounded by wide gardens and tall fences stood proudly in a small valley at his feet. Its many towers, bay windows, and sharp, snow-covered roofs gave it an all too familiar impression of the fairy tale castles the filthy muggle children in the orphanage always dreamed about.

'Time to crush a dream.'

Tiny colorful specters whirled around a large stage in the center of the estate. Extensive banners served as a background, each of them displayed the groom's house crest on a pure, white background. Rows upon rows of white chairs were stacked in front of the stage, creating a pathway from the Manor to where the ceremony had taken place.

"Not even some concealment charms, my dear Abraxas; only so the whole world might see the resurrection of your house..." His lips curled into a faint smile while he caressed his pale wand in between slim fingers: "Now, all they shall see is your downfall."

"My- my Lord." A female voice, full of devotion, was carried in a whisper over his shoulder: "There's Aurors everywhere on the estate, my Lord."

"Well, of course there are, Bellatrix. Abraxas has friends in high places in the Ministry now, didn't you know?" He turned his gaze away from the gathering of his followers and back to the Manor: "We shall begin soon..."

"How- How may we overcome the wards, my Lord?" Her husband asked in confusion: "My father reported that Malfoy spared no expenses on the security..."

"We shall see how much his gold is worth then." Voldemort pocketed the wand within his robes and slowly raised his right hand until the open palm pointed at the estate.

He closed his eyes, letting his magic spread out to explore the valley in every tiny detail. He reached around every stone, every snow-covered bush, and every blade of grass until he found what he'd been looking for.

"And there it is." His fingers started trembling. He felt a gentle tug that soon altered to a pull deep within his core. Twisting his hand around, he curled his fingers inward into a tight fist and opened his eyes.

Slight ripples of magic rose from all around the estate. They shot up high into the air and constructed a bright, silvery dome that wrapped over even the tallest towers and furthest garden segments of Abraxas Malfoy's home. As quickly as the dome materialized, it vanished again.

'Yet the split second was all I needed.'

He ignored the pathetic awes of wonder from his followers and studied what he remembered of the layout.

"The power of gold only stretches so far." He pulled the wand back from within his robes, spinning it between his fingers: "Magic gives you real power. Magic gives greatness. And magic's borders are nonexistent; meant to be pushed and expanded for all eternity..."

He drew his magic into the pale yew wand, compressing it at its tip until the ache in his core became unbearable. Then he snapped forward, whipping the wand at the estate to his feet with a primal roar.

Bright, white light seared his eyes; ozone evades his nostrils as the air in front of him evaporated in an instant with angry sizzles. He blinked away the green flecks in his vision and followed the crackling beam of magic through half-closed lids as it surged down at the Manor.

The very moment his magic collided with the wards, a potent shock wave sent ripples of compressed air outward. They raced through the valley, accompanied by a loud gong that vibrated deep within the bones.

'More.' He held the connection and continued pouring, ignoring the tremble of his wand, the faint smoke that rose from its tip, and the painful heat that burned the tip of his fingers: 'There is no limit!'

Finally, there was a loud crackling noise and the silvery dome shattered like broken glass. Patches of silver ripples poured through the air and rained down onto the estate. The movements all around the manor became more hectic. The faint sound of panicked screams drifted over to him.

'Looks like gold got the shorter end of the deal.'

'And gold won't help the traitor escape today.'

"You know your orders, my followers." He whispered when the work was done: "Kill only those who oppose our cause and stand in your way. Magical blood may never be spilled wastefully."

"Yes- my Lord." A series of sharp snaps echoed behind him.

He watched as the panicked mass of colorful little flecks was joined by a few dozen spots of deepest black. Bright flashes of light burst through the crowd. He caught a group of red-robed figures hurrying towards the stage from the gates.

Voldemort drew himself back up and dismissed the ache deep within his core. He lifted the pale yew wand once more, raising it high into the air. The Dark Lord infiltrated the valley with his own magic, weaving into a thick net that he tightened and wrapped over the manor like a cold, deadly blanket.

'And now we find the traitor.'

His dark cloak whispered in the gentle winter breeze as he forced the world past him, staggering right into the chaos.

Piercing screams tore through the cold air; wizards and witches fled the scene, stumbled over fallen guests while desperately clinging to their family members or small children. A red-robed Auror shot out from behind a tent, wand raised, and eyes widened when they found him.

The spell died on the young woman's lips when he twisted his wrist, lifted her in the air, and ripped out her spinal cord. Dark blood splattered across the cold snow when he tossed her aside with another flick of his wand, focusing on his next target.

'Where are you, my slippery friend?'

The Dark Lord mercilessly cut his way through the fleeing mob of guests, killing men and women alike. In his wake, he left a trail of crimson-specked, expansive robes and disfigured, broken bodies anytime someone dared to become an obstacle. His eyes scanned the crowd for a patch of sleek, blonde hair as he edged in on the main stage where the fighting was the heaviest.

The few foolish guests who decided to pick up their wands and fight back had joined the remaining Aurors in forming a tight ring around the ceremonial tent. His Death Eaters had completely surrounded their position, carefully trading spells with them from behind various covers they created.

The Dark Lord flicked aside any corpses littering his path and broke the ring of his followers: "Stand back!" He ordered them.

The sound of battle fire died in an instant as all eyes turned on him. Sharp gasps were sucked in, and whimpers of freight escaped their lips while they trembled at his sight. His gaze roamed over the panicked faces of the defender; he could almost taste their fear in the cold December air. Abraxas Malfoy shivered next to his foreign bride, hiding behind a pair of Aurors who had their wands trained on him.

"You have fought bravely but your efforts are futile," Voldemort whispered, gesturing to the mass of corpses that scattered the area around the stage: "You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I do not want to spill any more magical blood. I merely came to punish a traitor..."

"We won't hand over anyone!" A brown-haired young man shouted. He held himself with pride, the noble status and pure blood evident in his defiant posture: "We will fight until- "

A flash of green struck him in the chest and he dropped to the floor. He slipped off the stage and remained motionless in the blood-soiled snow, eyes opened in shock.

"FRANK!" The young, blonde woman next to him broke out in a sob as she fell to her knees: "NO! FRANK- "

"Silence, foolish girl!" The bang he fired from his wand had them cover and edge back together.

He poured his magic over the group and yanked both arms down in tight fists. Thin pieces of wood dropped to the platform and rolled over the wooden planks before his followers summoned them. The crowd edged closer together in freight, shielding the couple in the middle with their bodies.

"No, no... Come here, Abraxas..." The pale yew wand slashed through the air and banished the pathetic human shield sideways. He tightened his magic around the groom and ripped forward, leaving him dangling over the stage on invisible robes that strangled him.

"Let this be a lesson to everyone here." He turned his back to the shocked guests and regarded his Death Eaters with a long look: "No one betrays me and lives; no one will ever turn their back on me. Only death releases you of your servitude to me..."

He tightened his grip around Abraxas' throat until the man's pale head swelled purple. His bride's desperate sobs increased in volume. Crimson began leaking from his nose, eyes, and ears. The traitor made a few more chokes, limbs twitching widely in the air before his neck twisted in a loud snap and he stilled.

"Only death..." Voldemort repeated once more, letting the body drop to the ground.

"We have achieved our goal here, my followers." He strained his neck, raising his head to inspect the sky above the manor: "It is time for us to leave... I can already feel the Ministry nagging on my wards like the little rats they are."

"My Lord!" Bellatrix threw herself to his feet when he turned to leave. Her violet eyes sparkled behind the blood-spattered silver mask: "The McKinnons are here, my Lord." She peeked up, pointing a finger at a purple-dressed couple within the tight ring of defenders: "Their daughter, my Lord... She is still with the Peverell boy- " Her voice dripped in hatred as she trailed off.

"That is enough! But indeed, she is..." Voldemort turned back around, a small, cold smile crept up on his lips as he took in the witch and wizard: "It seems we have a common young friend, Lord McKinnon. A friend who, if I've been informed correctly, only recently proposed to your daughter. You have my congratulations... What an impressive match..."

Alfred McKinnon's lips remained sealed as he stared at the Dark Lord defiantly.

"Perhaps we still have time for a little chat before the Ministry will inevitably interrupt us." He slowly strode towards the platform, removing Abraxas Malfoy's corpse with a small wave of his hand: "You see, I am very interested in young Harry and who better to tell me more about him than his soon-to-be-in-laws... He must have shared something of note with you, didn't he?"

"We will tell you what we know about the boy, just let us go, please!" To his immense surprise, Lady McKinnon stepped forward, shaking off her husband's grip on her arm and dropping to her knees. "I will tell you everything!"

"I think I'd rather see for myself." He leveled his wand at her and held her eye, boring into the endless blue depths: "Legilimens!"

He effortlessly touched their thoughts and slipped in an image of unruly ebony hair and vibrant green eyes. Following down a path of memories, he stumbled over an intriguing scene. Peverell's confident gaze met him over a large dining table. Elegantly decorated walls and ceilings rose in the background.

"I will ask you again, Peverell." The young man next to her, perhaps her son, spoke firmly: "How do you know about the Mark?"

"You mean despite seeing it on Lucius Malfoy's forearm?" Peverell chuckled from across the table: "I can tell you more about the Mark than any Unspeakable, but first I will need a vow- ."

"NO!" The Dark Lord screamed in anger when his connection was suddenly interrupted and the memory faded away, pulling him down into a mass of black. He tore their thoughts apart and blinked his eyes open, watching in surprise as the woman slumped to the floor, blue orbs wide open and unmoving.

"Elizabeth?!" Her husband whispered, shaking her upper body frantically: "No, please, Elizabeth!"

"He protected his knowledge with a vow..." Voldemort hissed in displeasure: "Unless you have his permission, you cannot share what Peverell told you or you will suffer the consequences... Your wife really should've known better..."

"No... please, my love..." Heavy sobs shook McKinnon's body while cradling his dead wife to his chest, one hand brushing over her golden hair.

"And still, I cannot risk letting knowledge like that, whatever it may be, spread freely..." Voldemort said coldly: "I regret it... but there's no other way… Perhaps your daughter will be more prone to have a chat with me?"

"He will kill you..." McKinnon whispered. Tears of despair and anger sparkled in his eyes while he drew himself up, voice lazed with a sudden swell of pride: "He will come for you and he will kill you and my daughter will be by his side to avenge us..."

"We shall see." A second green flash zipped over the snow and Lord McKinnon followed his wife into the afterlife: "But I doubt it..."

"My Lord, the Ministry..." One of his followers whispered.

"Indeed." He felt another heavy tug on his ward and grit his teeth in displeasure: "At last then... We shall take our leave."

Suddenly, an amber light seared his vision and heat rippled over his face. He tore his wand down, conjuring a bright silvery shield only to still be pushed back a few feet through the snow.

"What — ?" He blinked his eyes open, staring at the golden flame in front of him, "Dumbledore!"

The crooked-nose headmaster was standing in front of the platform, a large gold and red bird on his shoulder. His blue eyes sparkling with raw, cold fury: "Enough, Tom... Enough death, enough misery..."

"No, not quite yet." The Dark Lord raised his wand and sent a jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and his followers, waving his wand in a wide horizontal motion.

'Never again.'

His silvery shield held sturdy and deflected the spell. It caused no visible damage and merely reverberated from it with a deep, gonglike note. Still, the sheer force of it had his hair stand on end. His followers were less lucky; the majority of them were yanked backward and thrown around like wet rags.

"Get out of here!" He screamed as they staggered to their feet. A series of soft snaps echoed as they vanished one by one: "The old muggle lover is mine!"

"It was foolish to remain here, Tom. The Aurors are on their way..." Dumbledore began walking towards him, intercepting another green flash with a white wooden chair that exploded in tiny splinters: "Your arrogance is once again blinding you and clouding your judgment."

"I am the greatest wizard that has ever lived, Dumbledore. There is no magic I know not; no sorcery I haven't witnessed!" He thrust his wand at the dozens of surrounding corpses, bathing them in an eerie green aura of magic. "I've mastered magicks other wizards cannot begin to comprehend, let alone cast; including you!"

The bodies began to spasm back to life as they rose to their hands and feet, unaffected by whatever injury had taken them into the afterlife. The corpses hurled themselves at his adversary, hissing furiously and baring their teeth.

"Fawkes." The Headmaster calmly called his pesky bird, which disappeared in a golden flame and reappeared among the crowd of guests, vanishing with two guests at a time to take them to safety.

"It will not matter!" He yanked his wand around and redirected the staggering army of Inferi at the remaining guests. "You cannot save them all, Dumbledore!"

"I will do what I must." Dumbledore stepped forward; his wand was raised like a torch and from its tip emanated fire, like a vast lasso, encircling the necromantic creation with crimson flames.

The Inferi bumped into each other, attempting, blindly, to escape the blaze in which they were enclosed until one by one they all turned to ash that rained down onto the molten snow.

"You will die!" The Dark Lord fueled the flames with his own intent, wrenching and corrupting them with his cold hatred.

What was ordinary became cursed and soon turned on its caster in angry hisses. The crimson inferno snarled ahead, pushing a staggering Dumbledore back until there was no more room for him to escape and he was forced to meet the inferno head-on.

"Your days are numbered, Dumbledore!" He spat between clenched teeth, using every drop of magic to continuously hurl the flames at his nemeses: "You couldn't hope to best me; no one can!"

'The Ministry.' A series of soft snaps echoed over the crackling of the flames. He caught red-robed figures slowly closing in on him out of the corner of his eye while the Headmaster got more and more adept at combating his conjuration.

'There's nothing gained by staying.' With a final roar, he unleashed the inferno from his tight control, letting it shoot up high into the sky and run havoc as it pleased. Malfoy Manor went up into flames as did the rest of the estate.

He twisted on the spot, forcing the world past him in blurry crimson images and burying a set of twinkling blue and vibrant green eyes underneath a cold layer of hatred.