Late that afternoon, as the winter sun dipped toward the horizon, Black Castle glowed softly in the fading light.
While the children - including Pietro, Wanda, and a bewildered but increasingly delighted Yelena - waged an epic snowball fight on the lower grounds, the adults retreated to Sirius's expansive study.
As everyone settled into the deep leather armchairs with mugs of steaming cocoa and the fire flickered against the shelves, Arthur asked casually, "So… any aspiring Dark Lords making trouble lately? Or have they finally run out?"
Sirius grinned, stretching his legs toward the fire. "Nope. Not a single one. Whenever there's even a whisper of a wannabe Dark Lord popping up, our DMLE swoops in like avenging angels and handles it before breakfast."
"Oh. That's… good?" Arthur said, unconvinced.
Susan let out a tiny, mortified groan and attempted to disappear behind her oversized teacup.
Amelia sighed, though her lips twitched. "Well, for some completely inexplicable reason, during those particular missions, one certain Hogwarts professor consistently goes missing from his classes... and then a mysterious, unidentified person just happens to appear and help the DMLE catch their target with remarkable efficiency."
Every head in the room swiveled toward Harry.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said, taking a very long, unconvincing sip of cocoa.
"Of course you don't," Amelia replied dryly.
The gentle teasing subsided as the conversation drifted into more serious territory. Amelia's expression tightened, the lines around her eyes deepening.
"The Muggle world is evolving too rapidly for us to keep pace," she said, gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "Their cameras are becoming smaller, more sophisticated. And this thing they call the internet… Before our Obliviators can even Apparate to a scene, footage can spread across the planet in minutes."
"The Statute of Secrecy," Harry said heavily, setting down his mug. "It's not going to last much longer. We all know it."
Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "It was bound to happen eventually. You should see the rate at which Muggle technology has advanced over just the past decade alone. And the acceleration isn't slowing down—it's getting faster."
Daniel leaned forward, his business acumen adding weight to his words. "You should see the companies we're investing in. Applications that let people search the entire world's information in milliseconds, platforms for sharing videos instantly with millions, real-time communication across continents. And smartphones—soon every person on the planet will carry a high-definition camera in their pocket. Some companies are even developing technology to stream live video to thousands of viewers simultaneously. How do you hide from billions of potential witnesses?"
Susan's knuckles whitened around her mug. "It's already a nightmare. Last month, we had to Obliviate an entire street in Westminster because some wizard Apparated into a climate protest. Hundreds of witnesses. If even one of the videos had gotten out… catastrophic."
Arthur turned to Amelia. "Have the Unspeakables at the Department of Mysteries developed any countermeasures? I remember last year you mentioned experiments with runic interference on CCTV systems—something about making footage blur automatically when magic is detected?"
Amelia nodded wearily. "We've implemented runic arrays on surveillance cameras throughout major cities, but personal devices are another matter entirely. They're everywhere, constantly recording, constantly connected. It haunts my dreams, Arthur. One clear video, that's all it would take to unravel centuries of secrecy."
Arthur swirled his drink, looking unconcerned. "You don't need to worry quite as much as you think, Amelia. The Muggle governments... they'll actually do half your work for you. They already are."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"The Muggle governments have as much to lose from revelation as you do," Arthur explained calmly. "Perhaps more. I'm absolutely certain they're already actively managing the problem."
Aurora Thatcher nodded in confirmation, her expression serious. "Arthur's right. MI6, the CIA, SHIELD… we have algorithms scrubbing the internet constantly. If a video of a wizard flying appears on YouTube, it's flagged as a 'fake' and buried within seconds. We flood the zone with fake videos so the real ones look like fakes too. We want the secret kept just as much as you do."
Arthur leaned back in his chair. "It's time both worlds start working together officially rather than separately. It will take a coordinated effort, memory charms from your side and technological censorship from theirs, to ensure the two worlds remain effectively separated for as long as possible."
"But the Covenant—" Sirius began.
"Has been toilet paper for years," Arthur interrupted bluntly. "Every major world leader knows about magic. Hell, Ariadne here has personally dealt with rogue wizards trying to muscle in on her operations."
"Arthur's right," Ariadne confirmed, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "The black market for 'magical assets' has tripled in the last two years. Private corporations, rogue states… they all want to kidnap wizards. They want to dissect the magic to see if they can replicate it."
Susan stiffened. "We've had reports of missing Muggleborns in Eastern Europe."
"I'm doing everything I can from my end to shut down those operations," Ariadne continued, "but when governments are involved, I can't act directly."
Arthur leaned forward, his voice carrying quiet authority. "Amelia, it's time for a summit. You need to coordinate with all the major wizarding governments - the ICW needs to actually function for once - and then collectively reach out to establish some kind of formal framework with the Muggle world. The Covenant is actively harmful now and needs to go. It prevents cooperation while providing no actual protection. Create a joint task force of wizards and muggle agents who can work together against threats from both sides. It would be infinitely more efficient than this shadow war you're all fighting."
Harry looked troubled. "Is that really the only viable option?"
Arthur's expression darkened. "The alternative is what MACUSA does. Total isolation. Complete segregation. Ban all interaction between magical and non-magical populations. Take Muggleborn children from their parents at the first sign of magic, Obliviate the families entirely, and raise the children exclusively in the wizarding world."
"That's barbaric," Eileen whispered, clutching her glass. "To steal a child…"
"It keeps the secret," Arthur reasoned, though his eyes showed he didn't like it. "Rappaport's Law. It's cruel, arguably evil, but it ensures safety through total segregation. No connections mean no leaks."
"It won't work here," Harry said firmly. "The British magical community is too integrated. Over half my students are half-bloods. You'd be tearing apart thousands of families."
Arthur nodded. "Then cooperation it is. Though understand, all of these are temporary measures. The secret will be revealed eventually - probably sooner than anyone expects. Muggle technology isn't just advancing; it's accelerating exponentially. In a decade, maybe less, even Hogwarts's most powerful wards won't hide it from muggle satellite surveillance."
Even in the normal world, the wizarding world had almost no chance of remaining hidden. And this was the Marvel world - advanced tech, alien tech… soon, even magical solutions would lag behind human ingenuity.
Arthur had many ideas in his mind that could help but he'd deliberately kept those ideas to himself. Because, truthfully, he believed it would be better for the wizarding world to reveal itself now, from a position of relative strength and agency, rather than waiting until Muggle governments possessed weapons of mass destruction that could threaten or annihilate magical communities entirely.
Better to negotiate as equals now than beg later.
A heavy, contemplative silence settled over the room like fog.
"So what do we actually do?" Sirius asked, uncharacteristically serious.
"Prepare for revelation day," Arthur said calmly. "Ensure that when the truth emerges—and it will—you negotiate from strength, not scramble from weakness. Don't wait for Muggles to develop countermeasures."
"I hate that you're right," Sirius grumbled. "I miss the simpler days when our biggest worry was just Dark Wizards trying to take over Britain."
Aurora's expression was grave. "I sincerely hope we can avoid open war. If it comes to direct conflict, casualties would be catastrophic on both sides."
"Avoiding war is best-case," Arthur said quietly. "A total war between magical and non-magical worlds? No winners. Only ashes."
The room fell silent at that cheery thought.
Harry asked, "And which side would you help, Arthur?"
"None," Arthur said. "If it comes to that, I'll take my family to another planet. You're all welcome to join."
There were other ways, of course. Arthur knew he could become mediator, even a ruler of sorts between worlds. But perhaps it wouldn't come to that. Perhaps careful preparation now would avert the need for drastic measures later.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Even Sirius, usually ready with a quip, merely stared into the fire, letting the thought of exile and devastation sink in.
Finally, with a forced grin and a clink of his mug against the armrest, Sirius broke the tension. "On that delightfully optimistic note… who wants their drink refilled? I'm thinking something stronger than cocoa."
—
The conversation shifted to lighter topics as evening fell. The women gathered near the fireplace, discussing projects with animated gestures, while the men gravitated toward the window, talking about their children, debating Quidditch stats, and carefully avoiding anything too weighty.
"Will you send Elena and Tristan to Ilvermorny or Hogwarts?" Harry asked Arthur.
"Hogwarts, as long as you're teaching there," Arthur replied. "I trust you to look after them."
Harry smiled warmly. "Of course. They'll be in good hands."
"Fair warning," Arthur added, his expression turning slightly serious, "my kids inherited my… particular talents. Elena's already showing signs of powerful magic, and Tristan might be even stronger. They could be fiercer than I was if anyone wrongs them."
"Hogwarts has changed," Harry reassured him. "McGonagall doesn't tolerate the old prejudices. Elena and Tristan will be safe."
Their comfortable conversation was abruptly interrupted by thundering footsteps racing up the stairs, accompanied by excited shouting.
"DAD!" James Potter's voice echoed through the hallway, getting louder as he approached. "Uncle Arthur! You promised!"
The door burst open. James, Elena, Regulus, and Leo stood there, holding broomsticks.
"Quidditch! Right now!" Elena demanded. "The snow finally stopped, and the wind died down! Flying conditions are perfect!"
Arthur grinned, unbuttoning his cuffs. "You heard the lady. Harry, Sirius? Not too old to fly, are you?"
Harry was already moving. "In your dreams, Hayes. I'll fly circles around you."
"Children, please," Sirius scoffed, grabbing his flying jacket with exaggerated dignity. "I was executing Wronski Feints before either of you could walk."
"Can I fly?" Daniel asked hopefully.
"NO," came the unanimous response from all the adults, including the women nearby.
Arthur clapped Daniel sympathetically on the shoulder. "Maybe once we find a broom you can control without immediate catastrophe. That nosedive into the greenhouse last summer still haunts me. You can referee—from the ground."
Daniel slumped in defeat but nodded in resigned acceptance.
—-
Minutes later, the cold night air above Black Castle was alive with color, movement, and joyful shouting.
Arthur soared on a sleek, custom broom that hummed with silent power. Strapped to his chest in a magical carrier was Tristan, one-year-old goggles perched on his face as he kicked in delight.
"Higher, Daddy! Higher!"
"I'm trying, buddy, but your Uncle Harry is blocking me!" Arthur laughed, banking left.
Harry zoomed past, Lily perched in front of him, clinging tightly to the broom handle as they performed a barrel roll.
"Block him, Dad! Use the Bludger!" Lily shouted.
"We don't have Bludgers, Lils, we have soft snowballs!" Harry corrected, tossing a fluffy white sphere at Arthur.
"FOUL!" Sirius's voice boomed from above. Seven-year-old Eleanor clung to his back like a koala. "No physical contact! Ten points from Gryffindor!"
"We aren't playing houses, Padfoot!" Harry shouted back.
Below them, on the snowy lawn, the women watched. Eileen stood wrapped in a shawl, sipping her tea, watching her husband laugh as he chased the children around.
"He's happy," Aurora noted, standing beside her. "I worried for years that he'd never find this—that his life would be nothing but training, fighting, accumulating power for some distant goal."
"He's found a new mission now," Eileen said, watching Arthur let Tristan 'steer' the broom into a gentle dive. "And he's very good at it."
Up in the air, the wind whipped past Arthur's face.
"Go, Daddy, go faster!" Elena cheered from where she flew alongside Wanda, who unlike her brother had discovered she possessed an natural affinity for broom flight that bordered on the supernatural.
"Alright, Potter!" Arthur yelled over the wind, competitive spirit rising. "Race to the east tower! First to touch the weathervane wins!"
"You're on!" Harry shouted back, and they surged forward together.
And for a few precious hours, there were no looming wars, no sinister conspiracies, no prophecies hanging over their heads like swords. Just the joy of flight, and the warmth of a family that had defied destiny to be here.