Chapter Text
The skies above Wales were an endless expanse of blue, interrupted only by the occasional drifting cloud and the vibrant, multicolored airships that dotted the horizon. These ships, enchanted and resplendent, hovered in anticipation of the season's first competitive winged horse race. The air buzzed with excitement, the kind that only the beginning of March could bring.
Harry stood at the boarding platform of the Pegasus, an enchanted airship that was renowned for its impressive size and splendor. Unruly strands of mulled wine escaped from the high ponytail it was in and fluttered in the breeze, and brilliant green eyes took in the view with excitement. He wore dove-gray robes cinched at the wrists and waist with mother-of-pearl clasps, his black snakeskin boots tapping lightly against the wooden floor. Beside him, Tom stood, looking equally thrilled though he restrained it well, dressed in matching robes of dark green with a fuzzy brown turtleneck underneath for warmth.
“Look, Tom,” Harry said, pointing to the magnificent ship before them. “The Pegasus. They’ve outdone themselves this year. The inside is supposed to be bigger than last time.”
Tom’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. “It’s incredible,” he breathed, a rare smile playing on his lips. “Are we really going to stay here for three days?”
Harry chuckled. “Yes, we are. And we’ll make the most of it. Come on, let’s board and see what they’ve got on deck.”
The interior of the Pegasus was indeed magically enlarged. The deck buzzed with activity, transformed into a bustling bazaar where stall owners sold a variety of merchandise and delectable snacks. Tom's eyes widened as he took in the sight. Countless stalls lined the deck, their owners calling out to passersby to sample their wares. There were charmed hats that morphed in shapes, scarves that adjusted their warmth based on the weather, and various other enchanted trinkets. The air was filled with the aroma of exotic foods and the sound of cheerful chatter.
"It's amazing," Tom breathed, his gaze darting from one colorful stall to another. "Can we try some of the food?"
"Of course," Harry replied with a smile. "Let's see what we can find."
They wandered through the bazaar, sampling tasty foreign foods that ranged from spiced meats on sticks to sweet, syrupy pastries. Harry bought a couple of moving figurines of the popular winged horses that would be competing in the race, much to Tom's delight. The figurines pranced and fluttered their wings, around Tom’s head, drawing the attention of many young children.
As they neared a stall selling intricately engraved binoculars made of gold, silver, or copper, Harry suddenly stiffened. His eyes widened in panic, and before Tom could react, Harry darted behind the stall, crouching in an undignified manner.
Tom stared in dumbfounded confusion as a portly man in luxurious robes passed by. The man was chatting animatedly with another guest, completely oblivious to Harry's presence.
When the man was finally out of sight, Harry emerged from his hiding spot, brushing off his robes. "That was close," he muttered.
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Who was that?"
"Sluggy," Harry said with a grimace. "Horace Slughorn. Potions professor at Hogwarts. Collects famous and influential people like chocolate frog cards. I met him at a Ministry charity gala once, and let's just say I didn't fancy having to struggle to extricate myself from his grasp again."
Tom couldn't help but snicker at the image of Harry trying to escape the portly professor's clutches. "Why did he bother you so much?"
Harry sighed, relaxing slightly. "He has this insatiable need to surround himself with what he considers the 'who's who' of the Wizarding world. And once he gets his hooks in you, it's nearly impossible to extricate yourself. I don't fancy spending the rest of the day listening to his drivel about connections and favors. Besides, I prefer to keep a lower profile, you know that."
Before Tom could respond, their conversation was interrupted by an amused chuckle. Harry and Tom turned to see an elderly couple, elegantly dressed and radiating an air of timeless wisdom.
"Harry Peverell, allergic to fame and attention?" the woman teased with a slight French lilt. "Still managing to find yourself in the most amusing situations, I see."
Harry’s face lit up with recognition. “Nicolas! Perenelle! It’s been ages! So good to see you both.” He turned to Tom. "Tom, these are Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel, the famous alchemists. I attended some of their lectures during my time at Athens’."
Tom's eyes widened. "The Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel? The ones who created the Philosopher's Stone?"
Nicolas smiled kindly. "The very same. It's a pleasure to meet you, Tom. And how have you been, Harry?"
Perenelle leaned down to give Tom a gentle pat on the cheek. “Such a charming young man.”
Tom, ever observant, noted how Harry's demeanor shifted from wary to genuinely pleased in the presence of the Flamels.
"I've been well, thank you," Harry replied, his tone light and sincere. "Tom and I are here to enjoy the races and perhaps acquire a few rare potion ingredients at the auction tomorrow night."
Nicolas raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Ah, the Spring Auction. Always a highlight of the event. Perenelle and I have our eyes on a few items as well.”
The conversation soon jumped to discussing the latest breakthroughs in alchemy and occasionally mentioning mutual acquaintances, most in the scholarly field.
"And what about you, Harry?" Perenelle asked. “Have you made any significant progress in your own studies?"
Harry's eyes lit up with excitement. "I've been working on soul bonds. You know I've been doing that off and on over the years. It's a fascinating subject, and I've decided to publish some of my findings in the next issue of Magical Theory."
Nicolas looked intrigued. "You always did have a knack with soul and death magic. I look forward to reading your work."
Perenelle clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Oh, do tell us more, Harry! You know how much we love hearing about new discoveries and advancements."
As they strolled through the bazaar, Harry regaled the Flamels with his latest experiments and discoveries. Tom listened intently, his admiration for Harry growing with each revelation.
"Dumbledore mentioned you in his last letter," Nicolas said casually. "He seems to think highly of your work."
Harry's expression tightened almost imperceptibly, a grimace flickering across his face. "Yes, well, Albus and I have...differing views on certain matters."
Perenelle, ever perceptive, laid a gentle hand on Harry's arm. "It's clear you both respect each other's talents, even if you don't always see eye to eye."
Tom, who was always watching Harry closely, noticed the subtle shift in his guardian's demeanor. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, quickly masked by Harry's usual cheerful exterior.
As they approached a stall selling enchanted pastries, Harry's mood lightened again. "Tom, would you like to try a sugared butterfly? They're a specialty here."
Tom nodded eagerly, and Harry purchased a pair of the delicate fluttering pastries. As they nibbled on the sweet treats, Their conversation was cut short by the sound of a horn signaling the start of the first race. The Flamels bid them goodbye, heading off to find their seats.
"It was wonderful to see you both," Harry said warmly. "Let's catch up again before the auction."
"Absolutely, Harry," Nicolas replied with a smile. "And Tom, it was a pleasure to meet you. Take care of each other."
As the Flamels disappeared into the crowd, Tom turned to Harry. "They seem really nice."
"They are," Harry agreed, his tone softening. "Nicolas and Perenelle have been mentors to many in our world, including myself. They're good people."
Tom filed that information away, adding it to his growing understanding of the complex world he was now a part of.
Soon, they found a spot along the railing, the air around the airship shimmering as it acted as enchanted binoculars. The view magnified the details of the race, allowing the audience to see everything without the need for actual binoculars. As they sat down in their seats, Harry's earlier stiffness seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of ease and enjoyment.
The winged horses were lined up at the starting point, their riders ready and waiting for the signal. The tension in the air was palpable, and Tom could hardly contain his excitement.
The announcer's voice boomed across the airship, introducing each racer and their rider. The crowd cheered and clapped, the energy building to a crescendo.
"Look at them, Harry," Tom said, his voice filled with awe. "They're magnificent."
Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the starting line. "They certainly are. This is going to be a great race."
"And they're off!" the announcer declared, and the winged horses launched into the sky, their powerful wings beating in perfect rhythm. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Harry and Tom leaned forward, completely engrossed in the spectacle.
The horses raced through the sky, their riders skillfully guiding them through various conjured obstacles and challenges. The airship's enchantments provided a crystal-clear view of the action, making it feel as if they were right there in the midst of the race.
Harry glanced at Tom, who was watching with wide-eyed wonder. Seeing the boy so happy and engaged filled him with a sense of satisfaction. It was moments like these that made all the uncertainties worth it.
As the race continued, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. Watching the winged horses soar through the sky brought back memories of his own adventures and the joy of discovering the magical world. He hoped that Tom would have the same opportunities to explore and grow, to find his place in this incredible world.
The race ended with a thrilling finish, the winner, a sleek golden abraxan, crossing the line by a mere fraction of a second. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, and Tom joined in, his face flushed with excitement.
"That was amazing," Tom said, turning to Harry with a wide grin. "Can we watch the next race too?"
"Of course," Harry replied with a smile. "We've got three days to enjoy the festivities. Let's make the most of it."
As they wandered back through the bazaar, Harry couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment. It was a rare opportunity to relax and enjoy the simple pleasures of life, away from the complexities and responsibilities that usually filled his days.
They came across a booth selling enchanted plush magical creatures. Tom's eyes lit up at the sight of a hooved chimerical creature. It had a deer-shaped body, horse feet and hooves, and a lion tail. The head is that of a dragon, and it had two horns. The whole body was also covered in shimmering emerald and bronze scales. Apparently, it was a Qilin, sometimes called a Chinese unicorn, as it was native only to Magical China.
"Do you like it?" Harry asked, noting Tom's interest.
Tom nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from it. "It's...alright."
“Only alright?” Harry chuckled, and despite the tease he still purchased the Qilin, handing it to Tom with a smile. "Consider it a memento of our day here."
Tom squeezed the plush Qilin gently, a rare smile breaking across his usually serious face. "Thank you, Harry. This is the best day ever."
Harry ruffled Tom's hair affectionately. "I'm glad you're having fun, Tom. That's what it's all about."
As enchanted fairy lights flickered on all over the deck, casting a warm glow in the backdrop of the dusky sky, Harry noted the time.
"Shall we head down to our quarters and turn in for the day? I can call for room service to bring a light supper if you've still got the space in your tummy for it." Harry suggested.
Tom nodded, dark eyes blinking slowly in reluctant drowsiness. It had been a day of excitement and wonder, rather taxing indeed on a child, despite all the sugar Tom had ingested over the day. So clutching the plush Qilin to his chest and trailed by miniature flying winged horse figurines flitting about him, Tom followed Harry down the large winding stairs. And as loath as he was to sleep and waste any time, he was also eager to see what tomorrow would bring.
.
.
.
Harry groaned as he felt a familiar thumping on his chest. Groggily, he opened his eyes to find Tom standing over him, plush Qilin in hand, repeatedly bouncing it against his sternum.
"Time to wake up, Harry," Tom said, his voice filled with the kind of energy that should be illegal so early in the morning.
Harry buried his face in his pillow. "It's too early, Tom. The sun's barely up."
Tom continued his relentless assault with the Qilin in place of a pillow he usually used, a habit that had become their morning routine now. "We have to get ready for breakfast. And the bazaar! And the races! And the auction!"
With a heavy sigh, Harry conceded defeat. He sat up, his hair a wild halo that framed his sleepy face, and stretched. "Alright, alright. I'm up. Happy now?"
Tom grinned, triumph shining in his eyes. "Very."
After a quick wash and a donning of their robes—Harry in a casual sage green, Tom in a smart navy blue—they made their way to the greenhouse-inspired dining hall. The morning sunlight streamed through the enchanted glass ceiling, casting dappled light on the lush plants that surrounded the tables.
As they approached a free spot, Harry noticed Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel chatting with a middle aged witch adorned in an array of shawls and beads. Her hair was a tangled mass of ash brown curls, and her eyes held a distant, knowing gleam.
"Good morning, Harry," Nicolas greeted with a smile. "Tom."
"Morning, Nicolas, Perenelle," Harry replied warmly, settling into his seat. "And good morning to you, Madame Trelawney."
The older witch inclined her head, her gaze lingering on Harry. "Lord Peverell," she intoned, her voice carrying an air of mystique. "And this must be young Mr. Riddle. A pleasure."
Tom eyed her warily, his instincts on high alert. "Nice to meet you."
Patricia Trelawney's eyes seemed to pierce through them, and she spoke with a cryptic tone. "Soul bonds that traverse time and space... How fascinating they are, Lord Peverell. But I wonder, will they still be strong enough if tested by the unworthy?"
Her gaze shifted pointedly to Tom, who bristled at the implication. Harry's expression hardened, a rare flicker of irritation crossing his features.
Nicolas cleared his throat, sensing the tension. "Madame Trelawney, your insights are always intriguing."
Perenelle offered a comforting smile to Harry and Tom. "Indeed. But let us enjoy our breakfast without too much portent, shall we?"
Madame Trelawney gave a dramatic sweep of her shawls and rose from the table. "Of course. But remember my words, Lord Peverell. The threads of Fate are ever-watching." With that, she glided away, leaving a trail of enigmatic energy in her wake.
Tom watched her go with a scowl. "What did she mean by that? Tested by the unworthy?"
Harry placed a reassuring hand on Tom's shoulder. "Don't let it bother you, Tom. Seers have a flair for the dramatic. Madame Trelawney's words often have more bark than bite."
Nicolas nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Patricia once predicted the end of the world because of a misplaced teaspoon."
Perenelle laughed softly. "And we're still here, aren't we?"
Tom managed a small smile, though he was still visibly annoyed. As they turned their attention to breakfast, the tension gradually eased. The smell of freshly baked bread and the sound of cheerful chatter filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere.
Halfway through, their meal was interrupted by the arrival of Monsieur Beaumont, accompanied by his daughter, Apolline. The 15-year-old Half-Veela's presence was immediately noticeable, her beauty enhanced by her ethereal aura.
"Lord Peverell, Mr. and Mrs. Flamel," greeted Monsieur Beaumont. "May we join you?"
"Of course," Harry replied, standing to greet them. "Monsieur Beaumont, Apolline. It's good to see you again."
Apolline's eyes lit up at the sight of Harry. "Bonjour, Harry. It has been too long."
Tom noticed the way Apolline looked at Harry, her admiration plain to see. He frowned, feeling a surge of possessiveness. Harry was his guardian, his person. He detested even the possibility of sharing him.
As they settled into their seats, Apolline chatted animatedly with Harry, recounting her latest exploits in the winged horse races. "The abraxan that won yesterday's race was a real challenge, but worth every moment of effort."
Harry listened with genuine interest, nodding along. "You handled it brilliantly, Apolline. Your skills have clearly improved since I last saw you."
Tom fidgeted, impatience growing as he watched the interaction. Finally, he seized an opportunity to interrupt. "Harry, can we go to the deck bazaar now? I want to see more before the next race."
Harry glanced at Tom, noting the urgency in his eyes. With a bemused smile, he turned back to the Beaumonts and Flamels. "It seems my ward is eager to explore. If you'll excuse us?"
Monsieur Beaumont chuckled. "Of course, Harry. Enjoy the bazaar, Tom."
Apolline's face fell slightly, but she recovered quickly. "We'll see you at the race, then. You will cheer me on, won't you Harry?"
“Of course.” Harry flashed a quick smile and made polite farewells, before allowing Tom to lead him away, the young boy practically dragging him out of the dining hall. Once they were out of earshot, Harry chuckled softly.
"What's the rush, Tom? We have plenty of time before the next race. And the auction is even later."
Tom scowled, his grip tightening on Harry's hand. "I didn't like the way she looked at you."
Harry's laughter was warm and affectionate. "Apolline's just an eager junior sister from Athens’, Tom. There's no need to be jealous."
Tom huffed, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and ire. "I'm not jealous. I just don't want anyone to take you away."
Harry's expression softened, and he crouched down to meet Tom's eyes. "Tom, no one is going to take me away from you. You're the most important, and nothing will change that. Okay?"
Tom's dark eyes widened and he repeated almost in a daze, "I'm the most important?"
"Yes," Harry said softly, bright green eyes flitting over Tom's expression, seeing something there that seemed to make them shine even brighter. "Now, let's see what treasures we can find at the bazaar."
The deck bazaar was as vibrant and bustling as ever, filled with vendors selling everything from enchanted trinkets to exotic foods. Tom's mood brightened as they wandered through the stalls, his curiosity reignited by the array of magical items on display.
They stopped at a stall selling enchanted portable gardens, complete with tiny creatures that flitted about, tending to the plants. Tom watched in fascination as a tiny dragonfly-like creature hovered over a blooming flower, its wings shimmering in the sunlight.
"These are useful," Tom said, his earlier annoyance forgotten.
Harry nodded, his own eyes alight with interest. "They are. And beautiful too, an absolute must for any herbologist or potioneer. Would you like one, Tom?"
Tom suppressed the smile trying to overtake his face. "Yes, thank you Harry!"
Harry made the purchase, and the vendor carefully packaged the enchanted portable garden for them. As they continued to explore, they encountered a variety of other intriguing items: charmed musical instruments that played themselves, beverages that changed color with the drinker's mood, and even a stall selling charmed quills that could write poetry.
At one stall, they found a collection of enchanted shadow puppet books, each one charmed to play out a different story, perfect for young witches and wizards who could not yet read. Tom picked up a particularly ornate one, his fingers tracing the intricate designs on the cover.
Harry watched him with a fond smile. "That one looks interesting. What’s its story I wonder?"
Tom opened the book, and shadow puppets began to enact a story of a young wizard and his dragon companion above the pages. "It's amazing, Harry. I want to study the magic used to make it."
"Then we'll have to buy it of course," Harry said, purchasing the book and handing it to Tom.
As they continued to wander, they were greeted by friendly faces and exchanged pleasantries with other spectators. The atmosphere was one of camaraderie and excitement, with everyone eagerly anticipating the next race.
As they made their way back to the viewing area for the second race, Tom's earlier moodiness had completely vanished. He clutched his new treasures close, his excitement palpable.
The viewing area was already filling up with spectators, and Harry and Tom found a spot with a clear view of the sky. As they settled in, Tom couldn't help but glance around, his gaze lingering on the other airships floating nearby.
"Do you think Apolline will win again?" Tom asked, his tone curious.
Harry shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. "She has a good chance. But remember, Tom, it's not always about winning. It's about enjoying the experience."
Tom rolled his eyes, but didn't contradict his Harry's words. As the announcer's voice boomed across the airship, introducing the racers for the second race, the crowd's excitement grew.
"And they're off!" the announcer declared, and the winged horses launched into the sky once more.
.
.
.
The sky above Wales was a canvas of twilight hues as the evening descended upon the enchanted airships floating like colorful bubbles in the air. The vibrant buzz of the day's festivities was giving way to the sophisticated anticipation of the Spring Auction. The belly of the Pegasus, one of the grandest airships, and the host of the highly anticipated auction event of the year was now a glittering beacon, a grand and luxurious hall where the elite of the wizarding world gathered.
Harry and Tom, both dressed in understated black dress robes with silver accents, made their way through the crowd. Harry's natural colors contrasted sharply with the elegant simplicity of his attire, while Tom's own dark curls and piercing eyes gave him an aura of quiet intensity despite his very young age. They moved gracefully, drawing curious glances from onlookers who recognized Lord Peverell's distinctive presence.
"Stay close, Tom," Harry murmured, his hand resting lightly on Tom's shoulder. "Auctions can be chaotic, and I'd rather not lose you in this crowd."
Tom nodded, his gaze sweeping over the opulent surroundings. The auction hall was a magnificent blend of old-world charm and modern enchantment. Crystal chandeliers floated above, casting a soft, ambient light that reflected off the polished mahogany tables and plush velvet chairs. The air was thick with the scent of rare perfumes and the murmur of hushed conversations.
As they found their assigned table, Harry paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Great, just why did I think we could get away from the night without a dash of pureblood politics," he muttered under his breath.
Tom followed Harry's gaze and saw a distinguished-looking couple accompanied by a blonde boy a little older than him. Abraxas Malfoy, whom Tom had met once before at the Zabini Estate, was surrounded by his parents, Lord and Lady Malfoy. Standing with them were other notable pureblood families, including the Blacks and Crabbes. Abraxas was flanked by two girls who were the same age as him, both looking haughtily around the room.
As Harry and Tom approached their table, they couldn't avoid a brief interaction with the Malfoy group. Lord Malfoy, spotting Harry, inclined his head with a polite but distant smile.
"Lord Peverell," Lord Malfoy said smoothly. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Lord Malfoy," Harry replied, equally smooth. "Lady Malfoy. I see you've brought quite the entourage."
Lady Malfoy, with her icy beauty, gave a curt nod. "It's a family affair, after all."
As the adults exchanged pleasantries, Abraxas turned to Tom, a smirk playing on his lips. "Riddle, wasn't it? Surprised to see you here. It must be because of your guardian that you'd be invited to something this exclusive."
Tom met Abraxas's gaze evenly. "As you said, I am the ward of Lord Peverell," he said simply. "And you?"
"My family owns our own airship," Abraxas boasted, his voice dripping with superiority. "We don't need to share with the plebeians. So we only embarked for the auction."
The two girls, Walburga Black and Araminta Crabbe, who had been watching the exchange with disinterest, now turned their attention to Tom. Walburga's dark eyes flashed with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Riddle? That doesn't sound like a pureblood name."
"Obviously, he's got Muggle blood," Araminta whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Why would he be here?"
Abraxas's smirk faded slightly, and he glanced at Tom with an unreadable expression, slate gray eyes drifting to the youthful Lord Peverell conversing with his parents a little distance away. "That's enough, Araminta. Walburga."
The two girls looked taken aback but complied, turning away with haughty flicks of their hair. As they moved off, Abraxas leaned in closer to Tom.
"Ignore them," he said quietly. "They're just upset because I refused to be betrothed to either of them. Harpies, the both of them."
Tom raised an eyebrow, taken aback by Abraxas's unexpected defense. "Why did you—"
"Don't read too much into it," Abraxas cut him off. "Just because I can't stand them doesn't mean we're friends. But I can recognize who can be offended and who cannot."
Tom nodded stiffly, still processing the strange turn of events. "My thanks, then."
Harry, having concluded his conversation with the Malfoy parents, returned to Tom's side. "Everything alright here?"
"Just fine, Harry," Tom said, his voice carefully neutral.
"Good," Harry said, casting a brief glance at Abraxas. "Let's find our seats and enjoy the auction, shall we?"
As they settled into their seats, the auctioneer, a wizard with a commanding presence and a theatrical flair, took the stage. The room fell silent as he began to introduce the items up for bid, each one more exotic and rare than the last. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and Harry's eyes gleamed with interest as he surveyed the offerings.
Tom, however, found his attention drifting back to Abraxas, who was now seated with his family a few tables away. The blonde boy seemed preoccupied, his expression thoughtful as he watched the proceedings.
"Don't let them get to you," Harry murmured, noticing Tom's distraction. "The pureblood politics can be vicious, but you have your own path to follow."
Tom nodded, and the auction continued, with bids flying fast and furious as rare potions ingredients, enchanted artifacts, and ancient tomes changed hands. Harry successfully bid on a few choice items, his satisfaction evident as he added them to their collection.
As the auction came to a close, the crowd began to disperse, and Harry and Tom made their way back to the deck. The evening air was cool and refreshing, a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere of the auction hall.
"Quite the experience, wasn't it?" Harry said, taking a deep breath and looking out over the twinkling lights of the other airships.
"Yes," Tom agreed, his mind still churning with thoughts of the evening's encounters. "It was."
Harry glanced at him, his expression thoughtful. "You're going to encounter people like the Malfoys and the Blacks throughout your life, Tom. It's important to remember who you are and where you come from, but also to stay true to yourself."
Tom looked up at Harry, the wisdom in his guardian's eyes resonating deeply. "I understand, Harry."
As they stood there, the sound of laughter and music drifting up from the deck below, Tom felt a sense of belonging and purpose. He was part of something larger than himself, and with Harry by his side, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The night sky above Wales was a canvas of stars, and the Pegasus continued its graceful journey through the air, a beacon of magic and wonder. For Tom and Harry, it was a night to remember, another step forward on the path of their intertwined destinies.