The great hall of the Black Family Estate in France was a masterpiece of Old-World grandeur—vaulted ceilings, rich mahogany paneling, and banners embroidered with the sigil of the Black Dragon Legion hanging like battle standards of an ancient order. It was a place built for power and strategy, where only the most formidable minds gathered.
Charlus Potter and Arcturus Black, both Commanders of the Black Dragon Legion, strode into the hall as if they owned it—which, given their stature, they might as well have. Their eyes, sharp as honed steel, took in their surroundings with the cool detachment of men who had seen far grander halls and negotiated in far deadlier rooms.
Leading them was Jean-Claude Delacour, Head of the French Branch of the Legion, an elegantly disheveled Frenchman who somehow exuded both menace and charm with his every move. Dressed in impeccably tailored navy robes, a silver dragon brooch gleaming on his chest, Jean-Claude walked with the lazy confidence of a man who never needed to rush for anything—or anyone.
"Ah, mes amis," Jean-Claude began, his deep voice carrying that unmistakable mix of aristocratic arrogance and Gallic nonchalance. "Welcome to France! Where ze wine is strong, ze women are stronger, and ze bureaucracy… well, even I am not drunk enough to praise zat."
Charlus, ever the embodiment of ruthless elegance, raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Jean-Claude, I assume you didn't bring us here just to complain about French inefficiency. I could've heard that from your wife."
Jean-Claude placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Ah, Charlus, you wound me! If I had a soul, eet would be weeping." He sighed theatrically before gesturing to the distinguished figures assembled before them. "Let us get to ze introductions before you make me regret inviting you."
The gathered dignitaries were all powerful in their own right, each commanding respect in France's magical circles. First was Étienne Lavoisier, Minister of Magical Affairs, a tall, impeccably dressed man with the kind of sharp features that suggested his ancestors had dueled for sport. His smile was polished, his handshake firm, but his eyes—those held the calculating gleam of a man who always had an angle.
Charlus shook his hand, his own grip unyielding. "A pleasure, Minister."
Lavoisier smiled thinly. "Eet eez good to finally meet you, Lord Potter. Your reputation precedes you."
Charlus smirked. "Yes, it does have a tendency to arrive early and drink all the good scotch before I get there."
Next was Isabelle Fournier, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Striking, poised, and utterly unreadable, Isabelle carried herself like a queen who had long ago grown tired of nonsense. Her silver hair was pulled into a severe bun, and her gaze was the kind that made men confess things they hadn't even done.
Arcturus inclined his head. "Madame Fournier."
"Lord Black," she replied smoothly. "Eet eez an honor."
"Of course it is," Arcturus said, as if that were self-evident. "You have quite the reputation yourself."
Isabelle's lips twitched. "I imagine ze same could be said of you—though in your case, I suspect half of ze stories are exaggerated."
Arcturus smirked. "Only half?"
Then came Claude Dubois, a bear of a man with a craggy face and a voice like gravel. His mere presence suggested he had once killed a man with a potion and had never bothered to deny it. Next to him stood Camille Durand, a regal-looking woman who carried herself with the quiet authority of someone who routinely dealt with creatures that could eat people—and often considered letting them. Pierre Lefevre, the last of the dignitaries, was a broad-shouldered, rumpled scholar whose deep voice could probably break stone if he got worked up enough.
Charlus exchanged nods with each of them before taking his seat at the grand table. Arcturus sat beside him, a silent shadow of precision and calculation. Jean-Claude, ever the gracious host, poured himself a drink before addressing the room.
Jean-Claude exhaled dramatically. "Now, we all know why we are 'ere. Voldemort, ze insufferable Englishman who wants to ruin everything might be gone, but 'is poison eez spreading. We must respond."
Étienne Lavoisier steepled his fingers. "Our intelligence indicates zat his ideology eez gaining traction among certain… impressionable circles in France." His distaste was clear. "A new group 'as emerged, drawing on 'is rhetoric of Pureblood supremacy. Zey are becoming… troublesome."
Charlus scoffed. "Oh, wonderful. A French branch of delusional psychopaths who think blood purity trumps actual skill. That worked out so well for Grindelwald."
Arcturus nodded. "Yes, I recall how he ended. Face-first in a cell, screaming at shadows." He turned to Étienne. "Tell me, Minister, what exactly is being done to eradicate this particular infestation?"
Isabelle Fournier answered. "We are increasing surveillance, but ze problem is deeper. Many of ze people attracted to zeir ideology do so out of fear or misinformation."
Charlus exhaled. "Fear and misinformation? So they're cowards and idiots. Splendid." He leaned forward, eyes like flint. "We will not let this disease fester in France. If these fools want to play at being Voldemort's disciples, we will educate them on what that truly means."
Pierre Lefevre grunted. "We should be careful. Heavy-handed measures could turn public sympathy in their favor."
Arcturus smirked. "You misunderstand. We're not talking about brute force. We're talking about precision. We don't crush them—we make them irrelevant. No one joins a movement that looks weak, pathetic, and ridiculous."
Jean-Claude snapped his fingers. "Ah, ridicule! Ze French way. We do love to make fools of dangerous men."
Charlus chuckled darkly. "Exactly. We dismantle them publicly, expose their hypocrisy, strip them of their appeal. Turn them into a joke." His smile was razor-sharp. "Nothing is deadlier to a fanatic than humiliation."
Claude Dubois, silent until now, rumbled, "And for ze ones who do not learn?"
Arcturus' expression turned cold. "Then they will be dealt with. Permanently."
A hush fell over the table. The weight of the conversation settled in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Jean-Claude raised his glass. "To ze Black Dragon Legion. To power, to unity, and to making sure zat history remembers our names."
Charlus clinked his glass against his. "Oh, history will remember us. Whether they love us or fear us—" he took a slow sip, eyes gleaming "—is entirely up to them."
The war had already begun. The world just didn't know it yet.
—
The sitting room of the Delacour estate was a picture of refined elegance, with plush furniture, warm candlelight, and the scent of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. Soft classical music played in the background, and the clinking of porcelain cups punctuated the conversation among the adults.
Dorea Black-Potter sat with regal poise, her dark eyes sharp as ever, yet softened by amusement as she observed the children across the room. She held her teacup with practiced grace, the very image of aristocratic refinement. Beside her, Melania Black exuded a quiet, seductive charm, her beauty seemingly untouched by time. Across from them, Augusta Longbottom, ever the formidable presence, sat with her back perfectly straight, exuding an air of unimpeachable authority.
Andromeda Tonks, by contrast, was all youthful energy, her sharp wit making her seem more like a rebellious princess among queens. She sipped her tea with the ease of someone used to balancing pureblood etiquette with her own modern views. Apolline Delacour, the stunning and ever-effervescent Frenchwoman, was in the midst of an animated discussion, switching between English and French with effortless charm.
"I am telling you, ma chérie, eet eez unnatural! 'Ow can le gouvernement magique allow so much restriction on veela rights?" Apolline declared, flipping her golden hair dramatically.
"Because, my dear, men in power seldom care for anything that doesn't directly serve their interests," Dorea remarked dryly, her lips curling ever so slightly.
"Ah, oui, zis I understand well." Apolline sighed dramatically, casting a knowing look.
"Veela rights, magical law, men being fools—fascinating topics," Andromeda interjected, her tone amused. "But tell me, Augusta, are you planning on intimidating the Minister of Magic into submission anytime soon?"
Augusta sniffed, adjusting her hat. "If necessary. The current Minister is a fool, and someone must remind him that competence should outweigh politics. Besides, intimidation is merely efficient persuasion."
Dorea let out a quiet chuckle. "Spoken like a true Longbottom."
Melania smiled lazily. "A bit of intimidation is quite useful when wielded correctly. The trick is knowing when to soften the blow."
Meanwhile, across the room, a different kind of battle was taking place.
Fleur Delacour, at the ripe old age of nine, had taken it upon herself to introduce the younger children to the beauty of the French language. She stood like a queen instructing her subjects, her delicate hands gesturing as she spoke.
"Très bien! Now, repeat after moi, s'il vous plaît. 'Bonjour, comment ça va?'" Fleur instructed, her blue eyes expectant.
Six-year-old Harry Potter squinted, his messy black hair falling into his eyes. "Bohn-jour… com… ment… sa va?"
Fleur sighed. "Non, non. Eet must flow. Bohhhn-jouuur, commennnnt ça va?"
Harry furrowed his brows. "I think my tongue just tied itself into a knot."
Next to him, Neville Longbottom bit his lip. "Why do all the words sound like someone sneezing?"
Gabrielle Delacour, her six-year-old self an exact miniature of her older sister, giggled. "Eet is not sneezing! Eet is… how you say… poetry!"
Susan Bones, a little redhead with a determined expression, crossed her arms. "I don't know. It still sounds like sneezing to me."
"Non!" Fleur threw up her hands dramatically. "French is zee language of love! Not of zee cold!"
Tonks, ever the troublemaker, grinned wickedly. "So if I say 'bonjour' with a runny nose, does that mean I'm fluent?"
Fleur gasped in scandalized horror. "Non! You ruin eet!"
Tonks wiggled her eyebrows and repeated in an exaggerated nasally voice, "Bonnnngggg-jouuurrrr, commmmmmeeeeennnnnt saaaaa vvvvvvvvvaaaaaaaa?"
Susan snorted. Neville outright giggled. Harry nearly fell off his chair laughing.
Gabrielle, though loyal to her sister, covered her mouth to hide her own giggles.
Fleur, looking properly offended, placed her hands on her hips. "You are terrible students! I do not know why I even try!"
Harry, still wheezing with laughter, sat up straight. "Come on, Fleur, don't give up on us. We're a work in progress."
Fleur huffed. "A lost cause, more like."
Tonks grinned. "Or, as the French say, 'zut alors!'"
Fleur groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I weell make you all elegant speakers of zee French… or I weell die trying."
"You might at this rate," Neville muttered, earning himself a light smack on the arm from Gabrielle.
From their side of the room, the adults watched in varying degrees of amusement.
"She reminds me of you, Dorea," Melania noted with a sly smile. "Determined to educate the hopeless."
Dorea sighed. "Yes, and look how well that turned out."
Augusta took a sip of her tea. "The poor girl doesn't realize she's attempting the impossible."
Andromeda laughed. "Then again, Potter men do have a habit of driving women to frustration."
Dorea smirked. "Yes, they do."
As the laughter continued in both corners of the room, it was clear that this was more than just a language lesson. It was a moment of joy, of growing friendships, and of bonds strengthening between families. The world beyond the estate walls might be full of darkness and uncertainty, but within this sitting room, filled with laughter and warmth, it felt as though everything was right.
For now, at least.
And for now, that was enough.
—
The picturesque French countryside unfolded before them, a sea of vibrant wildflowers stretching toward the horizon, their colors dancing in the soft breeze. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of lavender and the earthy scent of ancient oak trees. Sirius Black and Amelia Bones, two figures of contrasting yet complementary presence, walked side by side along a narrow, winding path.
Sirius, his dark hair falling just below his shoulders, exuded his usual effortless charm as he matched Amelia's pace. With every step, the tension of the world seemed to slip away from his shoulders, replaced by a rare calm. His gray eyes sparkled in the sunlight as he offered her his hand, an unspoken invitation to share in the quiet beauty of the moment.
"Amelia," Sirius began, his voice smooth and warm, "I have to say, it's rather nice to have you all to myself, no kids, no chaos. Just the two of us."
Amelia's lips twitched upward in a knowing smile, her posture relaxed, yet there was an undeniable air of grace about her. "You do like your quiet moments, don't you, Sirius?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "It's a pleasant change, indeed. The estate is… charming, very different from our usual haunts."
Sirius chuckled, his tone light with a hint of mischief. "You know, I never thought I'd be back here in France, especially not with someone like you. Last time I was here, I was running around causing trouble with James and the others. The Ministry probably still has an entire file dedicated to our escapades."
Amelia let out a soft laugh, her eyes gleaming with fondness. "Oh, I'm sure they do. I remember well the stories of the Marauders. You were a bunch of unforgettable troublemakers, but I dare say it was impossible to be mad at you for long."
Sirius shot her a playful look. "Impossible to stay mad? What, are you saying I've still got that charm?"
"That charm, yes," Amelia said with a teasing smile. "But also the tendency to charm yourself into trouble. Though I suppose some of it is... well, amusing in hindsight."
"Only in hindsight?" Sirius raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. "Come on, you're telling me you didn't enjoy the Marauder madness? You couldn't resist the chaos, could you?"
Amelia shook her head, but there was a warmth in her gaze that softened the words. "I wasn't immune to the charm of your antics, but I also knew when to steer clear."
Sirius let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Ah, so you were the smart one, huh? Always dodging the explosions, keeping a safe distance." He gave her an exaggerated pout. "How unfair. I thought we were partners in crime."
"I was always the smarter one, Sirius," Amelia retorted, her tone teasing but laced with affection. "Someone had to make sure the Ministry stayed upright while you lot made sure it didn't."
They paused at the foot of a massive oak tree, the sunlight filtering through its branches and casting dappled patterns on the ground. Sirius, ever the romantic at heart, waved his wand with a flick, conjuring a blanket out of thin air, the fabric settling softly on the grass.
"Ah, this seems like the perfect spot for a little peace and quiet," Sirius said, leaning back against the tree trunk with a stretch, his arms folding behind his head as he glanced up at the leafy canopy.
Amelia sat beside him, her expression thoughtful as she watched the sunlight dance through the branches above them. For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and birds singing in the distance. It was as if the weight of the world had been momentarily lifted.
"So," Sirius began after a beat of comfortable silence, his voice playful again, "what's next for you, Amelia? Beyond the Ministry, beyond all the paperwork and... delightful political intrigue?"
Amelia's lips quirked upward in a slight smile, and for a moment, she didn't speak, her gaze drifting over the horizon, the peaceful landscape filling her mind. "I suppose... balance. I've spent so much time focused on the Ministry, on duty. But there's more to life than endless meetings and bureaucratic nonsense."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And what does that balance look like to you?"
She turned her gaze toward him, her expression softened, almost vulnerable. "Maybe more moments like this. More time spent with those who matter. Finding joy, not just in the work, but in living—in connecting."
Sirius smiled, his expression tender but laced with a trace of that savage wit. "You're a softie, Amelia Bones," he teased, nudging her shoulder with his own. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be talking about 'living' and 'connecting' like some... romantic."
Amelia rolled her eyes but didn't pull away from the nudge. "You know, Sirius, you're impossible."
"Hey, I'm a charming, devil-may-care rogue with a love for adventure," Sirius said with mock modesty. "Romantic is practically part of the job description."
Amelia's laughter rang out, warm and genuine, and she leaned back against the tree, her eyes sparkling. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."
Sirius's expression softened then, the playful glint fading as he gave her a more serious look. "But seriously, Amelia… I'd like to make time for more moments like this. For us. Whatever life brings, whatever responsibilities we still have, I think—"
Before he could finish, Amelia turned to face him, her hand reaching for his, the movement gentle and sure. "I think we deserve it, Sirius. We've earned it."
Sirius squeezed her hand, his voice quieter, more sincere than it had been in a long time. "More moments with you," he murmured. "That sounds like a good plan."
They lingered in the silence, the world around them full of color and life, while they simply existed in the peaceful connection they had forged over the years. The sounds of the children's laughter, distant and faint, blended with the rustling leaves, and for just a little while, it seemed like nothing could ever disrupt the calm they had found together.
"Let's make sure we do this more often," Sirius said after a moment, his usual easy grin returning. "You know, take a break from being so important and just live."
Amelia smiled, her fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. "I'll hold you to that, Sirius."
And with that, they sat in quiet contentment, enjoying the warmth of each other's presence, knowing that no matter what their futures held, they had this moment—one that was theirs alone, away from the world's demands.
—
The morning air was crisp and full of promise as the group assembled at the Delacour estate, buzzing with excitement for their day trip to Paris. Sirius and Ted were busy sorting through bags and making sure all the kids had everything they needed—snacks, water bottles, and, of course, comfortable shoes for a day of walking, which Sirius was quick to emphasize.
"Harry, mate," Sirius said with a sly grin, a twinkle in his eye, "If you don't want blisters by the end of the day, you better make sure you've got decent shoes on. Trust me, your poor feet will thank you."
Harry, looking down at his trainers, shot Sirius a skeptical look. "I think I'm alright. The shoes are fine."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Let's just say if you end up asking me for a piggyback ride halfway through the day, I'm not carrying you."
Amelia, who was standing nearby handing out snacks to the children, gave Sirius a playful smirk. "Sirius, don't be cruel. The poor boy's probably already worrying about heights on the Eiffel Tower."
Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll let you off the hook for now, kid. But you'll owe me when we're on the stairs."
The kids giggled and scurried about, gathering their belongings while Sirius and Ted exchanged banter.
"You think they'll really climb the stairs to the top?" Ted asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's quite a workout."
"If they're anything like me when I was young," Sirius said, flashing a grin, "they'll probably try to race to the top. And end up a little winded halfway up."
Amelia chuckled at the thought, adjusting the strap of her bag. "I hope they're ready. But it'll be worth it. Paris is always magical, no matter how many times you visit."
Andromeda, looking effortlessly composed in a simple yet elegant outfit, adjusted her shawl as she approached with Ted. "I'm just here for the food," she said with a teasing grin. "And if I'm being honest, the view. That's what I'm most excited for."
Ted laughed, taking her hand. "You and your priorities, Andromeda. You know, some of us are more about the adventure and the learning."
"Learning?" Andromeda shot him an amused glance. "You've been reading about Paris since we arrived. No need to act all scholarly now."
Ted rolled his eyes but couldn't help his grin. "Well, someone has to keep up with the history of the place. Besides, I've always been a sucker for fun facts."
With everyone assembled, they Apparated to a quiet spot just outside the Eiffel Tower, and the sight of the iconic structure towering in the distance brought wide-eyed amazement from the children.
"Wow…" Gabrielle whispered, her eyes growing larger as she stared up. "C'est énorme!" she exclaimed, her thick French accent wrapping around every word. "I can't believe we're really here."
Fleur, leading the group with her natural grace, beamed at her younger sister. "Yes, it's magnifique, Gabrielle! We can go up to the very top, if you want!" Her French accent thickened as she spoke, a mix of excitement and pride evident in her voice. "Zey say it's zee best view in all of Paris!"
Gabrielle bounced on her heels. "Oh oui! I want to go!"
Tonks, her ever-changing hair now a vibrant shade of bubblegum pink, did a little skip next to the kids. "Who wants to race to the elevator first? I bet I could beat all of you!"
"No way, Tonks!" Neville said, a little nervous but excited. "I'm faster than you!"
"Oh really?" Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Prove it, mate. You can't just talk the talk, you've gotta walk the walk."
Neville, looking determined, shot her a competitive glance. "You're on!"
As they approached the entrance, Andromeda, casually observing the kids' antics, leaned toward Ted. "They're like a bundle of energy, aren't they? I think this trip was a great idea."
Ted chuckled softly, glancing over at the kids now arguing over who would go first in the elevator. "They'll remember this day for a long time. We all will."
Inside the tower, the elevator ride up was filled with gasps of awe. The kids pressed their faces against the glass, watching the world below grow smaller and smaller.
"Look!" Susan shouted, pointing at the Seine River. "There's the river!"
Sirius, standing next to Amelia, couldn't help but grin at the scene unfolding. "Look at them, Amelia. Just look at them. They'll be talking about this trip for years."
Amelia, smiling softly, slipped her hand into his. "I know. It's moments like this that make everything worthwhile."
Sirius shot her a look, his usual mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sentimental. But seriously, I think we might just be the coolest adults in their lives. I mean, who else gets to take kids up the Eiffel Tower, huh?"
Amelia rolled her eyes with a half-smile. "That's a low bar for cool, Sirius."
They arrived at the top, and the kids burst out of the elevator, their excitement palpable as they spread out to take in the panoramic view. Fleur guided them toward the edge, where they could see the sweeping cityscape below.
"There's the Louvre!" Gabrielle exclaimed, her voice full of wonder.
Neville, still a bit wary of the height, stuck close to Fleur but seemed to find comfort in the view. "It's not so bad up here," he admitted, his hands gripping the rail a little tighter. "It's actually… kinda cool."
Tonks, ever the prankster, pretended to stumble and sway, causing the children to gasp and scramble to grab her. "Ha! Gotcha!" she laughed, thoroughly enjoying their reaction. "No need to worry, folks. I'm fine. Just having a bit of fun."
Amelia's smile grew as she watched the children, her hand still intertwined with Sirius's. "They're all so full of life, aren't they?" she said softly. "It's these little moments I treasure most."
Sirius nodded, his tone quiet but sincere. "Absolutely. They remind me of everything we've fought for, everything we're protecting."
The group gathered near the edge of the tower, each of them taking a moment to simply enjoy the view, the sunshine, and the laughter of children echoing in the air. In that moment, amidst the sprawling city of Paris, with the warmth of friendship and family surrounding them, they knew that the trials of the past had brought them to this precious, fleeting peace.
—
If there was one thing Sirius Black excelled at—aside from being effortlessly cool, devastatingly handsome, and a certified menace to polite society—it was turning any outing into an adventure. And today? Today was no exception.
After conquering the heights of the Eiffel Tower (with only mild emotional scarring for Neville), the group made their way toward the Louvre, the towering glass pyramid gleaming in the midday sun.
"Alright, minions," Sirius declared, clapping his hands together as they approached the entrance. "Today, we feast our eyes upon the world's greatest masterpieces. Some of which are worth more money than I ever saw before my dear mother burned me off the family tree." He threw a mock-glare at the sky. "Not bitter, though. Totally over it."
Amelia rolled her eyes but smirked. "Yes, Sirius. You're a model of emotional maturity."
"Right? I keep telling people that, but no one believes me," he quipped, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulder.
The moment they stepped into the grand halls of the museum, Fleur took command like a tiny French general leading an army.
"Zis way, zis way!" she called, marching forward with Gabrielle at her side. "We must start wiz ze classics! Ze Mona Lisa! Ze Venus de Milo! And, of course, ze Winged Victory!"
"You know," Ted mused, nudging Amelia as they followed, "it's a little terrifying how much of Fleur's energy reminds me of you when you get that 'I'm about to lay down the law' look."
Amelia arched a brow. "Are you comparing me to a nine-year-old?"
"I mean it in the most flattering way possible," Ted said quickly, grinning.
Sirius, meanwhile, crouched next to Harry, Neville, and Susan. "Here's the deal: whoever spots a painting of a naked person first wins."
"Padfoot!" Amelia hissed.
"What? It's educational!"
Neville looked positively scandalized. Susan snorted. Harry, the little traitor, looked determined to win.
When they finally reached La Joconde, the children peered up at the small, glass-protected painting.
Gabrielle frowned. "She is… smaller than I expected."
"Oui, but her smile, it is mysterious, non?" Fleur said, nodding sagely.
Harry tilted his head. "I think she just looks smug. Like she knows something we don't."
Tonks, who had been shifting her facial features for laughs, suddenly morphed into an identical version of Mona Lisa—only with bubblegum-pink hair.
Neville nearly fell over in shock. Susan gasped.
"Merlin's beard!" Ted laughed. "That's disturbingly accurate."
"I am an artist," Tonks said, striking a dramatic pose.
Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose. "Nymphadora, please stop terrorizing Renaissance art."
Tonks pouted. "Mum, if the museum didn't want me to impersonate their paintings, they shouldn't have made them so fun."
Just when the children thought they had seen everything, Fleur led them to an unassuming portrait of an old French wizard in deep blue robes. She glanced around before leaning in and whispering something in rapid French.
With a creak, the painting slid aside, revealing a hidden corridor.
Harry's eyes widened. "Wait… did we just find the Louvre's secret level?"
"Oui," Fleur grinned. "Zis is ze magical section. Only for wizards!"
"Wait, wait, wait," Sirius held up a hand. "You're telling me I've been to Paris dozens of times and never knew about this?"
Gabrielle smirked. "Maybe because you are not French?"
Sirius clutched his chest. "Oh! Betrayed by a six-year-old!"
The hidden corridor led them to a vast chamber filled with enchanted artifacts, ancient tomes, and paintings that moved just like those at Hogwarts.
Susan pointed excitedly at a massive, animated tapestry depicting an epic wizarding duel. "That's incredible!"
Neville was transfixed by a display of ancient wands. "Look at all of these," he whispered in awe. "They must be centuries old!"
Harry, meanwhile, zeroed in on a floating quill scribbling in a never-ending book. "What's this?"
Ted read the inscription. "'A History of French Wizardry: Perpetually Updated.' That's—"
Sirius cut him off. "The worst thing I've ever seen. Imagine if it did that with British history—just a bunch of new scandals being recorded every five minutes."
Tonks and Harry exchanged mischievous grins before subtly enchanting a nearby statue to wink at Susan, who let out a yelp.
"You two are menaces," Amelia sighed, though she was clearly fighting a smile.
Andromeda shook her head. "I blame Sirius."
"You wound me, cousin!" Sirius said dramatically. "I am but an innocent bystander!"
"No one has ever called you innocent," Amelia deadpanned.
After hours of exploring, they found a quiet, enchanted alcove where the museum allowed visiting wizarding families to have lunch. The adults unpacked a picnic of baguettes, cheese, fruit, and pastries.
Gabrielle, her mouth full of croissant, looked at Andromeda. "Can we come back 'ere someday?"
Andromeda smiled warmly, tucking a strand of hair behind Gabrielle's ear. "Of course, sweetheart. Paris will always be here."
As the golden light of the afternoon bathed the museum's hidden treasures, the group basked in the magic of the moment—both the kind found in enchanted artifacts and the kind found in laughter, friendship, and the sheer joy of discovering the world together.
---
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