The God of Valor

The swirling cascade of colors enveloped them as the Bifrost carried them across the cosmos, the roar of its power reverberating in their ears. Then, with a flash and a tremor, they arrived on the gleaming expanse of the rainbow bridge. The majesty of Asgard stretched before them, golden towers piercing the heavens and waterfalls cascading like liquid sunlight. At the end of the bridge stood Heimdall, his immense presence as unyielding as the sword he held.

The Guardian of the Bifrost tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group. His golden eyes, as all-seeing as ever, lingered on Neville, who clung to Sirius's shoulder, and then on the battered forms of Frank and Alice Longbottom. He straightened, his towering form radiating quiet strength.

"Loki," Heimdall rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of countless centuries. "It is not often you return bearing such... company."

Loki stepped forward, his usual air of mischief tempered by urgency. "Heimdall," he greeted smoothly, inclining his head. "These are allies, friends. Their need is great, their suffering undeserved." His gaze flickered to Frank and Alice, and for a moment, something akin to compassion softened his sharp features. "We seek an audience with Queen Frigga and Princess Eirlys. Where are they?"

Heimdall's gaze lingered on Loki, scrutinizing him as if weighing the sincerity of his words. A faint flicker of amusement touched the corner of his lips. "You surprise me, Loki," he said, his tone neutral yet carrying an undercurrent of dry observation. "Concern for others. Compassion, even. It seems your time away has taught you something new."

Loki's jaw tightened, though he offered a tight smile. "Let's not overstate it, Heimdall. I'm simply practical. If these people die, my sisters plans become significantly more complicated."

Sirius, still holding Neville, snorted. "Oh, don't let him fool you," he said with a smirk. "He's got a soft spot under all that snark. Buried deep, mind you, but it's there."

Heimdall's gaze flicked to Sirius, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "And you, who hide behind a glamour, have much to answer for," he said gravely. "Yet it is not my place to demand answers . The Longbottoms' suffering is evident. Queen Frigga and Princess Eirlys await you in the healing halls."

He gestured toward the towering palace in the distance, its golden spires gleaming under the eternal light of Asgard's skies. "Go swiftly. They are prepared."

Loki dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Heimdall." Then, with a sly grin, he added, "It's always comforting to know you're keeping an eye on me."

Heimdall's expression did not change, though his voice carried a faint edge of humor. "On you, Loki, I keep both eyes."

As the group moved past him, Sirius leaned closer to Loki. "He's not wrong, you know. You're like a bloody magnet for trouble."

Loki shot him a sideways glance, his smirk returning in full force. "And yet, here you are, following me into it."

The journey to the palace was swift but tense. Their footsteps echoed on the gleaming marble floors as they approached the medical wing. The air seemed charged, not with the power of magic, but with an anticipation that set their nerves on edge.

"Mother will know what to do," Loki murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His expression, while calm, betrayed a flicker of doubt. "She always does."

Sirius adjusted Neville on his shoulder, his voice quiet but steady. "Then let's hope she's ready for this."

As they neared the grand doors of the healing halls, Loki straightened, his usual facade of arrogance sliding into place like a mask. Whatever doubts he had, he would bury them deep. For now, there was work to be done.

—

The heavy double doors to the healing chamber creaked open, revealing a scene of serene but tense activity. Queen Frigga, poised and regal as always, stood by a cluster of Asgardian healers tending to the Longbottoms. Princess Eirlys—Lily Potter in another life—was at her mother's side, her fiery red hair catching the golden light streaming through the high windows. Dressed in Asgardian garb of emerald and gold, she moved with a practiced grace, her calm demeanor belying the urgency of the situation.

The moment Sirius stepped into the room, the subtle tension crackling in the air shifted. Dropping his glamour with a flick of his wand, Sirius Black strode forward with an exaggerated swagger, his long black coat swirling dramatically behind him. He stopped abruptly in the center of the room, spinning on his heel to face Eirlys, and dropped into a sweeping, theatrical bow. His dark hair gleamed under the golden light, and his sharp, aristocratic features twisted into a grin that could only be described as roguish.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sirius declared, his deep voice carrying across the room with the flair of an actor on stage, "may I present to you the one, the only, Sirius Black! Godfather to the youngest Prince of Asgard and, might I add, easily the most handsome wizard in this realm or any other!"

He swept his arm out as if unveiling a masterpiece, pausing just long enough for dramatic effect. His grin widened as a ripple of laughter passed through the room. Even the stoic Asgardian healers couldn't suppress their smiles, though they quickly turned back to their work.

Princess Eirlys straightened, turning to face him fully. Her piercing green eyes, so reminiscent of her former self, sparkled with amusement. She crossed her arms, her lips quirking into a smirk that mirrored Sirius's energy.

"Well, well," she drawled, her voice laced with teasing humor as she stepped closer. "It seems Asgard is graced with royalty of its own. Welcome, Sirius Black, Godfather Extraordinaire."

Sirius grinned, pretending to buff his nails on his coat. "I do aim to impress, Your Highness."

"Impress or annoy?" Eirlys shot back, arching an eyebrow.

"Why not both?" Sirius quipped, his grin widening. "Multitasking is a skill, after all."

The playful banter drew another wave of chuckles from those present. Even Queen Frigga's serene expression softened into a faint smile as she observed the interaction.

But then Sirius's expression shifted. The cocky grin faded, replaced by something softer, more sincere. He stepped closer to Eirlys, his voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate tone.

"Lily," he said, the name slipping from his lips as naturally as breathing. His grey eyes locked onto hers, filled with warmth and relief. "It's good to see you. Safe, alive... still putting me in my place."

Eirlys's smirk melted into a genuine smile, her features softening. Her green eyes shimmered with emotion as she reached out to clasp his arm. "Sirius," she replied, her voice gentle, carrying the weight of shared history and unspoken gratitude. "You have no idea how much it means to see you here, you reckless old dog."

Sirius's lips twitched. "Old? Rude, Lily. I've barely hit my stride."

The moment was broken by a small, distressed cry. Eirlys turned swiftly, her eyes landing on Neville, who was curled into Lady Sif's arms, his tiny shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, she crossed the room, her movements fluid and deliberate, and gently took Neville into her arms. The boy clung to her, his small fingers clutching at the fabric of her dress.

"Neville," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. She cradled him close, rocking slightly as she spoke. "Shh, little one. You're safe now. Auntie Lily's got you."

Sirius watched silently, his expression a mix of admiration and lingering guilt. He stepped closer, his hands in his pockets. "Lily... Eirlys," he corrected, though the old name lingered on his tongue. "Where's my pup? I want to see him."

Eirlys glanced at him, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "Harry is in good hands," she said, her voice steady. "Mother's shieldmaidens are watching over him. I'll take you to him as soon as the Longbottoms are settled."

Sirius nodded, relief flashing across his features. "Thank you," he said simply, the words carrying more weight than they seemed.

Eirlys turned to one of the attendants, her tone firm but kind. "Please take Neville to Prince Haraldr's room. He'll be safe there."

The attendant bowed and carefully took Neville from her arms. Eirlys watched until they were out of sight before exhaling softly. She squared her shoulders and turned back to Sirius, the determination in her gaze matching his.

"Let's get to work," she said, her voice steady but laced with quiet resolve.

Sirius nodded, his wand already in hand. "Lead the way, Princess. Let's show these Asgardians what proper wizarding magic looks like."

—

The Soul Forge chamber shimmered with an ethereal glow, the ancient runes etched into its golden surface pulsing faintly as if in anticipation of the task ahead. Frigga and Eirlys entered the chamber with measured urgency, guiding the unconscious forms of Frank and Alice Longbottom, who floated gently behind them, supported by bands of golden light conjured by Frigga's practiced hands.

Eirlys walked alongside her mother, her emerald-green gown billowing slightly in the mystical breeze emanating from the forge. Her face, serene yet determined, betrayed the storm of emotions beneath. She had seen wounds of the body before, but wounds of the soul—those were harder to bear, harder still to heal.

"Mother," Eirlys said softly, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. "Are you certain the Soul Forge can help them? Their minds have been shattered—torn apart by dark magic. Even in Midgard, this kind of damage is considered irreversible."

Frigga, ever poised and calm, cast her daughter a sidelong glance. "The Soul Forge was not made to see the limitations of mortals, my dear. It was made to transcend them." She paused, her voice softening. "But it will take more than the Forge alone. We must guide it, focus it, and give these souls a reason to fight their way back to the light."

Eirlys nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line of determination. "Then we'll give it everything we have."

They reached the central platform of the Soul Forge, and Frigga gestured gracefully. The bands of golden light lifted Frank and Alice gently onto the glowing runes that encircled the Forge's core. The runes flared brighter as the Forge awakened fully, a low, harmonic hum filling the room. A dome of shimmering energy surrounded the Longbottoms, cocooning them in a protective aura as the ancient machine began its work.

Eirlys stepped closer, her green eyes flickering with a mix of awe and concern as she observed the intricate patterns of light weaving around Frank and Alice. "Their souls…" she murmured, her voice trailing off. "They're so scarred. It's as though the Cruciatus Curse didn't just attack their bodies—it tried to unravel who they are."

Frigga rested a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder, her touch grounding and maternal. "That is the nature of such vile magic," she said, her tone heavy with sorrow. "But remember, Eirlys, souls can be mended. And love is the strongest force of all."

Taking a deep breath, Frigga moved to stand on one side of the Forge, her hands raised gracefully. "I will guide the Forge's magic. You must lend your light to theirs, help their souls find the path back to themselves."

Eirlys hesitated for only a moment before stepping to the opposite side of the Forge. "I'll do whatever it takes," she said firmly, her hands glowing faintly as she began to summon her own magic. "For Neville, for Harry… for all of us."

The hum of the Soul Forge grew louder, resonating with the combined magic of the two women. Threads of golden and emerald light intertwined within the dome, reaching deep into the fractured souls of Frank and Alice. The Forge began to reveal the extent of their injuries—memories fragmented like shards of broken glass, emotions muted and dulled, the core of their identities flickering like a dying flame.

Eirlys clenched her jaw, her hands trembling slightly as she channeled her power. "Frank," she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears forming in her eyes. "Alice. You are loved. You are needed. Fight your way back to us."

Frigga's voice joined hers, calm and melodic, weaving through the magic like a guiding thread. "You are more than what was done to you. You are warriors, protectors, and parents. Remember who you are."

The light within the dome intensified, the runes glowing white-hot as the Forge worked in harmony with their magic. Eirlys felt a connection spark between her and the Longbottoms—a faint flicker of recognition from their souls, like a candle struggling to reignite.

"They're responding," Eirlys said, her voice breaking slightly with relief. "They can hear us."

Frigga nodded, her expression resolute but tinged with a faint smile. "Then we must not falter. Let them feel the love that ties them to this world."

Eirlys poured her energy into the Forge, her magic intertwining with the golden threads of Frigga's power. Images of Neville as a baby, of the laughter and love they had once shared, filled her mind. She sent those images into the Forge, a beacon of light for Frank and Alice to follow.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the shimmering aura around the Longbottoms began to shift. The fractured pieces of their souls started to mend, threads of light knitting them back together. The once-dull flicker of their cores now burned brighter, steadier.

Finally, the hum of the Forge began to quiet, the light dimming to a soft glow. Eirlys swayed slightly, her energy nearly spent, but she kept her gaze fixed on Frank and Alice. Slowly, their eyes fluttered open, their expressions dazed but no longer empty.

"Frank… Alice…" Eirlys whispered, stepping closer.

Frank's gaze focused on her, confusion giving way to recognition. "Lily?" he rasped, his voice weak but filled with wonder.

Eirlys smiled through her tears. "Not quite, old friend. But close enough."

—

The room was steeped in an oppressive silence, broken only by the occasional scrape of Bellatrix Lestrange's chains as she shifted against them. Her dark curls spilled wildly over her shoulders, her emerald-green dress tattered but somehow still regal, and her piercing eyes blazed with unrestrained madness. She stared at her captors with a feral grin that could unsettle even the bravest warrior.

Thor stood tall, his hand resting on Mjolnir, his blue eyes narrowing as he took in the deranged figure before him. "This one," he said, his voice low and thunderous, "looks as though she would sooner bite than speak."

Sirius Black stepped forward, his expression a storm of emotions—grief, fury, and the barest hint of guilt flickering beneath the surface. "She's done more than that," he muttered, his voice tight. "This woman… she tore my family apart. But this isn't all her doing. That Geass…" He turned to Loki, his dark eyes pleading for answers. "We need to know who bound her with it and why."

Loki, lounging against a pillar with an air of calculated indifference, twirled a dagger between his fingers. His sharp green eyes, however, betrayed his keen interest. "Oh, Sirius, you wound me," he drawled, a mocking smile curling his lips. "Do you think I'm not already intrigued by the mysterious puppet strings that bind our dear Bellatrix? It's practically a challenge, and you know how much I love those."

Bellatrix's laugh rang out, sharp and cutting. "Loki," she hissed, her voice like poison dripping from her tongue. "The trickster himself. Tell me, does it sting? Knowing you'll never be more than a shadow to Thor?" She twisted her wrists in the cuffs, her grin widening when they held firm. "Come closer, dear. I'll show you just how much fun shadows can have."

Thor stepped forward, his jaw tightening as he glared down at her. "Silence," he commanded, his voice firm, though tinged with the faintest irritation. "You will answer for your crimes, woman, and for those who used you like a pawn."

Bellatrix sneered, her lip curling. "Crimes? Oh, darling Thor," she cooed mockingly, leaning forward as far as her restraints would allow. "You should see what I can do when I really try."

Sif, standing at Thor's side, rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, her dark eyes scanning Bellatrix with cold calculation. "Loki," she said, her tone clipped but steady, "shall I search her? If she's hiding something, we'll need it before she decides to be… uncooperative."

Loki straightened, slipping his dagger into its sheath with a flourish. "By all means, Lady Sif. But do be careful. She's rather fond of blades, our Bellatrix. Who knows where she might have hidden them?" His smirk deepened as he cast a knowing glance at Bellatrix. "I'd wager even she has lost count."

Fandral, leaning casually against the doorway, couldn't resist a quip. "Careful, Loki. You're beginning to sound impressed. A woman after your own heart, perhaps?"

The room tensed, but Loki's chuckle broke the air. "Impressed?" he mused, tilting his head as if considering the idea. "Perhaps. But I do prefer my admirers a touch less… unhinged."

Bellatrix's grin only widened. "Loki, dear, you flatter me."

"Enough," Sif said, her tone brooking no argument as she stepped toward Bellatrix. With swift, practiced movements, she began the search, her hands brushing aside layers of fabric to reveal the hidden arsenal Bellatrix had concealed. One knife, two, three—by the time Sif reached the tenth blade, even Volstagg couldn't keep quiet.

"By the Nine," he exclaimed, his booming voice filling the chamber. "How many more of those things does she have? Woman could arm an army!"

"An army of lunatics, perhaps," Hogun said quietly, his tone as dry as a desert wind. He stood in the corner, his arms crossed, his face impassive as ever.

Sif held up the final blade, her expression grim. "She's resourceful, I'll give her that," she said, tossing the weapons into a growing pile. She turned back to Bellatrix, meeting her gaze with steely resolve. "You won't be using these again."

Bellatrix cocked her head, her grin never faltering. "Oh, but you haven't searched everything, dear Lady Sif."

Thor stepped between them, his presence like a thundercloud ready to break. "Enough of your games, sorceress," he growled. "You will tell us who controls you, or—"

"Or what?" Bellatrix interrupted, leaning back with a laugh that echoed through the chamber. "You'll strike me down, God of Thunder? Do it, then. Let me taste the fury of Asgard!"

Sirius clenched his fists, his voice low and sharp. "We don't need to strike you down. We need the truth."

Loki stepped closer, his expression now unreadable. "Oh, she'll give us the truth," he murmured, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "Whether she wishes to or not. But first…" He smiled, slow and serpentine, as his gaze locked with Bellatrix's. "Let's see how much she enjoys being played for a change."

—

The knives, now safely removed from Bellatrix's person, are laid on a table—a motley collection of cruel, jagged blades that speak of both her cunning and her madness. Thor picks one up, twirling it in his hand with casual strength, before giving Loki a raised eyebrow. "Brother, are you certain this is the woman whose mind you wish to dive into? She looks more like she'd prefer to carve us into small, decorative pieces."

Loki, leaning against the edge of the table with an air of detached amusement, smirks. "Oh, I'm certain, dear brother. Though I imagine her mind will be a veritable carnival of chaos, it is precisely in such chaos that truths like to hide." His gaze flicks to Bellatrix, who glares at him with a venomous intensity that could peel paint from walls.

Sirius steps closer, his arms crossed, his dark eyes locked on Bellatrix's face. There's an edge of sorrow beneath his simmering anger as he speaks. "If you're going to delve into her mind, Loki, tread lightly. There's a part of her that's been a victim in all of this. But don't mistake that for innocence. Bellatrix Lestrange lost herself to madness long ago."

Bellatrix lets out a low, derisive chuckle, her lips curling into a feral grin. "Oh, poor little Sirius, playing the part of the hero again. Did you miss me, dear cousin? How quaint that you've gathered your band of merry fools to try and save the day. Do you think you can save me? Save Narcissa? You don't even understand the game you're playing."

Thor steps forward, Mjölnir in hand, towering over Bellatrix like a thundercloud. "Enough!" His deep voice booms through the room. "We are not here to listen to your riddles or your venom. Speak plainly, or face the wrath of Asgard."

Bellatrix tilts her head, unphased. "Oh, I love when the oafs start shouting. Makes me feel right at home."

Sif steps between them, her voice sharp and commanding. "Thor, let Loki handle this. Bellatrix may try to bait us, but she has nothing left to fight with. All she has are her words, and we will not let them control us."

Loki straightens, adjusting his coat with deliberate flair. "Ah, Sif, ever the voice of reason. Though I do admit, her words have a certain... sting. A bit like a wasp, buzzing about. Let us see if we can pluck her sting." He strides forward and places a hand on Bellatrix's temple, his expression shifting to one of sharp concentration.

Bellatrix's laughter cuts off abruptly, replaced by a hiss as Loki's magic weaves into her mind. Her wild eyes flutter closed, and the tension in her body turns rigid as Loki sifts through the fragmented shards of her memories. The room falls silent, save for the occasional crackle of Loki's magic.

After a long moment, Loki pulls back with a sharp intake of breath, his usual smirk replaced with grim solemnity. "Marriage contracts," he says, his voice a dark thread of anger and disgust. "Not the kind made in jest or ceremony, but the kind forged in chains. A magical bond that stripped her of will and freedom. Her husband was not merely her partner; he was her master."

Sirius's face hardens, his fists clenching. "Of course. My mother's handiwork, no doubt. She had a penchant for controlling everything—people, family, alliances. Bellatrix was just another pawn to her."

Sif's voice is cold steel as she speaks. "To subject anyone to such a fate… it is a crime beyond words. And now this Lucius Malfoy may be doing the same to her sister?"

Bellatrix's eyes snap open, her voice dripping with malice. "You think you're noble, don't you? Coming to rescue poor Narcissa. She doesn't need you. She chose her path, just as I chose mine. We are bound by blood, by loyalty. You cannot break what we are."

Loki steps back, rolling his shoulders as though shedding the weight of her memories. "That remains to be seen," he says coolly. "But her fate is not yours to decide, Bellatrix. Not anymore."

It's then that Eirlys enters, her presence radiating calm authority. Her auburn hair glints in the light as her green eyes sweep the room. She's dressed simply yet elegantly, her posture poised and her tone measured. "You'll find that fate is rarely as fixed as it seems," she says, her gaze locking on Bellatrix. "You may not believe it now, but redemption is possible. Even for someone like you."

Bellatrix sneers, but there's a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—in her expression. "Redemption? Don't make me laugh, Potter."

Eirlys doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, she turns to the group. "We need to act quickly. Andromeda is our best lead, and she'll know how to approach Narcissa without raising suspicion."

Sirius nods. "And Amelia. She'll have the resources we need to navigate the Ministry without setting off alarms."

Thor steps forward, clapping a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Then it is decided. We march to your allies, and we do so with purpose. The enemy may think themselves untouchable, but they have yet to face the wrath of Asgard."

Fandral smirks. "And if all else fails, we'll charm them into submission. Nobody can resist this face."

Volstagg lets out a booming laugh. "Or this belly! Nothing like a good feast to loosen tongues."

Hogun, ever stoic, merely nods. "We should prepare for every eventuality. This mission is fraught with peril."

Loki glances at Eirlys, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile. "I must admit, your presence is most reassuring, sister. Perhaps we shall succeed after all."

Eirlys arches a brow, her tone dry. "I would hope so, Loki. Failure is not an option."

And with that, the group sets their plan into motion, their resolve unshaken as they prepare to face the challenges that lie ahead.

—

Sirius's voice, laden with concern, cut through the quiet tension. "How are Frank and Alice?" he asked, the edges of his words soft with the care he still carried for his old friends.

Eirlys's expression softened, her eyes revealing a deep well of compassion as she answered. "They are fine for now," she said, her tone gentle and reassuring. She paused, allowing the weight of her words to sink in before continuing. "However, they are facing magical exhaustion from the ordeal they've endured. They've been resting and are being tended to by Mother and the healers of Asgard. But it will take time for them to fully recover."

Her words carried a quiet sorrow, a reminder of the toll their mission was taking on those they sought to protect. The group felt the weight of the moment, a brief silence hanging in the air before Sirius, ever the optimist, spoke up again.

"Well, at least they're safe, that's what matters," Sirius said, offering a wry smile, though his eyes were tinged with concern. His mind briefly flickered to the harrowing ordeal the Longbottoms had endured and the strain that had been placed on their magical reserves. Still, relief surged within him knowing that they were receiving care from the skilled healers of Asgard.

Eirlys gave a soft nod, her gaze steady and kind. "We must ensure they receive all the rest and care they need. Their strength is crucial as we move forward. They've been through more than anyone should have to endure."

She turned to Sirius, a warm invitation in her eyes as she spoke again. "Sirius, would you like to come with me to meet Harry? I'm sure he'd love to see his godfather. I've been meaning to bring you to him."

Sirius's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Harry. His lips curled into a grin, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. "Of course," he responded, his voice a mix of warmth and emotion. "It'd be an honor. I can't wait to see him—it's been far too long."

Eirlys's smile softened with affection as she turned toward the corridor, gesturing for him to follow. Sirius moved in step with her, his pulse quickening as they approached Harry's room. The anticipation swelled in his chest, a mix of love and pride for the godson he'd watched grow up, and now, more than ever, his thoughts were consumed by the weight of Harry's new identity.

Sirius couldn't hold back his playful nature, his voice light with jest as he glanced sideways at Eirlys. "So, Harry's a god now, huh?" he said with a mischievous grin, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I always knew the kid had a bit of magic in him, but this is next-level stuff!"

Eirlys laughed, the sound a rich, melodic burst that filled the space between them. She glanced at him with an affectionate smirk, her tone warm and teasing. "Yes, well, he certainly has a way of turning heads," she said with a playful wink. "But I assure you, despite all that, he's still the same Harry you've always known—just with a few extra powers thrown into the mix. He's now the God of Valor, in case you didn't hear."

Sirius let out a mock gasp, dramatically clutching his chest. "The God of Valor, huh?" he said with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Well, well, well, I guess we always knew Harry had a bit of Gryffindor in him, but now he's got divine approval. Guess it suits him perfectly."

Eirlys chuckled softly, shaking her head as she tried to hide her smile, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Indeed," she said, matching his playful tone. "It seems Harry's bravery knows no bounds—even among the gods."

Sirius feigned wiping away tears, his expression dramatically exaggerated. "I'm so proud," he said, his voice full of mock emotion. "My little pup, all grown up and saving the world. They grow up so fast! First, he's running around causing mischief, and now he's out there, saving realms. I barely recognize him!"

Their banter filled the hallway with an easy warmth, the familiar camaraderie between them pushing aside the tension that had lingered. Sirius, ever the joker, felt a lightness that was rare in their current, perilous situation. It was moments like these—full of humor, warmth, and the deep love between family—that helped steady the course ahead.

As they reached Harry's room, Eirlys pushed open the door gently, her gaze softening as she stepped inside, followed closely by Sirius. The sight of Harry, now transformed by his divine status, was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Sirius paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of Harry. The young man—still the same at his core but now imbued with a radiance that spoke of his new role—stood tall, his posture regal yet approachable. There was no mistaking the bravery in his eyes, nor the determination that burned brightly within him.

And as their gazes met, the room seemed to hold its breath. Sirius's heart surged with pride, his lips curling into a wide, beaming smile as he stepped forward. "Well, well, well," he said, voice thick with emotion, "look who's gone and become a god. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been keeping secrets from me, Harry."

Harry's lips curved into a grin, a familiar twinkle in his eyes as he crossed the room to greet his godfather. "You know me," Harry replied with a smirk. "Always got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Sirius laughed heartily, pulling Harry into a tight hug. "That's my boy," he said, his voice full of warmth. "I should've known you'd be destined for greatness. Just—don't go getting too big for your boots now, alright?"

Harry pulled back, a grin still plastered on his face. "No promises," he teased. "But I'm glad to see you, Sirius. I've missed you."

The exchange was a moment of pure joy, a beacon of light amidst the storm they faced. It was a reminder of the ties that bound them together, of family, loyalty, and the strength they drew from one another.

Eirlys stood quietly by, watching the reunion with a soft smile, her heart swelling with affection for both men. It was moments like this that made all the struggles and hardships worthwhile. She knew, deep down, that with their bonds of love and strength, they would overcome whatever lay ahead.

---

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