[SPECIAL] A Few Days Without the Little Ones
N/A:
A small rest special.
Sorry for the pause, but this week I've been quite busy with something rather important—my house is under construction! And between the chaos of workers, dust, and noise, my inspiration decided to take an unannounced vacation.
The chapters I've been uploading these days were some that I had already written ahead of time from novels that had fallen a bit behind compared to the free chapters. In theory, they should all be around 15 chapters ahead… but for example, HPHM had 13 and Marvel had 12. So, I took the opportunity to even them out a little.
I also don't want to burn out, so I decided to make a small special here too, just like I did in PJFD. Just to take a small break from the main story and slow the pace down a bit.
Ah, and speaking of PJFD, I mentioned something there that I want to repeat: I've been researching quite a lot about Greek mythology, and I've come to a conclusion that we should all agree on… all the Greek gods are absolute bastards. Except for Hestia and the Titan Prometheus (they're the only decent ones). Even Hades ends up being better than most; at least he only defends his territory and treats heroes with some sense of fairness.
The rest… nothing. Not even Athena escapes judgment. They're all awful, and Apollo—ugh, I have a special hatred for that one, haha.
Anyway, I'm not sure if I'll apply the same changes here as I did in PJFD, since that story is more dynamic, while this one focuses more on the brothers facing adversity and growing together.
Since we're still in the HP arc, I can adjust things for the PJ arc later if needed.
For now, I'll leave you with this special. I hope you enjoy it.
And as always: this special doesn't affect the main story at all, so read with peace of mind.
—
A Few Days Without the Little Ones
Morgana arrived home from work feeling a bit exhausted after the daily cleaning she had to do across Europe. Of course, she didn't have to literally clean all of Europe, since she apparently wasn't the only one punished with such a task. Still, she focused mainly on the England region; it was where her two beloved nephews lived, and that was reason enough for her to put in twice the effort.
When she entered the house, she saw Sally sitting on the couch, staring fixedly at the television. However, it was turned off.
Mor smiled faintly at the sight and walked over quietly.
"Looks like the mother is just like her sons," she said with a calm smile.
"Eh? Oh… Mor? You're back from work! Welcome home," replied Sally, with her ever-kind, motherly smile—though she seemed a bit distracted.
Mor almost laughed seeing her like that. Although Sally was obviously older than the two boys, she acted just like them when they were gone for too long. Especially now, knowing they'd be away for so many months.
After all, Sally had worked so hard to give them a happy and safe place to grow up. And she still did, every single day, keeping her home as a refuge filled with love. Even Morgana—an ancient and powerful witch—knew she could never achieve what Sally had, were she in her place. She knew well what Sally would have to face in the future… just like the two children she cherished so deeply.
That was why, from the day she arrived, she had decided to teach them everything she could. Not just magic, as was the original agreement, but also values, discipline, and self-control. Though she wouldn't admit it aloud, Morgana missed them too. And it had only been two days.
Normally, at that time of the morning, their silly arguments, small fights, and that daily chaos that filled the house with life could already be heard.
"You don't have to worry; they'll be safe there. That old Headmaster doesn't look very strong, but he should be the most powerful wizard in England," Morgana said calmly before murmuring under her breath, "Obviously, for a mortal."
After all, she wanted Sally to feel reassured, knowing her children were in good hands.
"Yes, I know. I did quite a bit of research, thanks to the knights' help. Still…" Sally sighed softly, saddened by the distance separating her from her little ones.
Mor thought for a moment before remembering something.
"Right, I finished what I told you about. We can send these so you can call them and see them whenever you want," she said, pulling out two small handheld mirrors.
Sally looked at them curiously until she realized that through one mirror, she could see whatever the other was pointing at—and vice versa. Her eyes lit up instantly.
"We just need to send them," Mor added, noticing Sally's growing smile.
"That's wonderful… with these, we'll be able to see each other every day," replied Sally with such a pure, maternal expression that even the air seemed to grow warmer around her.
Morgana felt a strange kind of pride. It wasn't common for something she created to stir such emotions in her. Nearly all her works had been used for destruction or war… like those relics that, according to current rumors, some foolish old man claimed to have made.
The thought irritated her for a moment. But when she saw Sally's genuine happiness at being able to speak with her chaotic little ones, her anger faded, and a small smile formed on her lips.
…
Meanwhile, Mark was in his laboratory, focused on his latest experiment. He was studying potion combinations, tossing in ingredients one after another and observing every reaction with surgical precision—the color, the texture, the density, the exact weight of each gram.
His studies in potion-making came from years of research, not only from the ancient records of Merlin but also from the wizards who followed him and worked under the Veil. The knights, in their time, had traveled the world collecting data and knowledge from Merlin's descendants. That was why Mark possessed such vast information that even Hogwarts students would envy.
He, in fact, envied nothing about those who studied there; he firmly believed that the knowledge he held could rival everything that castle had to offer.
Merlin had been the creator of many of the tools and foundations that the modern magical world still used. However, since wizards tended to lock themselves into their outdated thinking and feudal structures, progress had been stagnant for centuries. With the help of human science and modern technology, Mark had managed to merge both worlds, achieving results that would once have been impossible.
That was why many considered him the best potion maker in the world today… or at least, among mortals.
Sally, for her part, had shown astonishing talent. Her book was filled with formulas and concepts that even he didn't know, and her growth in the magical and alchemical fields had been remarkable. Even so, Mark still remained a step ahead, though he had to admit that Sally's recipes were so eccentric that even he struggled to decipher them.
In fact, he had managed to reproduce one of them based solely on its theoretical function. That was the level he had reached.
He placed a drop of his new potion into a flask and observed it under the microscope, analyzing the patterns that formed. Then, with meticulous precision, he began writing down every reaction. He was attempting to recreate one of Sally's formulas, but in his own style.
He paused for a moment and spoke softly, with a slightly amused smile:
"The brats must be having their first day of classes… I hope they don't disappoint me. After all, I taught them potions so they could prove that the wizards in that place are all useless."
…
On an uninhabited island—one that had once shown nothing but ruins and destruction—the scenery had completely changed. Where there had once been only rocks and ashes, now stretched a field full of life. Small sprouts peeked through the fresh grass, young trees grew here and there, and flowers of different colors adorned the horizon with an innocent touch of beauty.
Out in the open, as if someone had tried to rebuild a home in the middle of nowhere, there was an improvised living room: a few scattered pieces of furniture, a table, and a large sofa placed facing the sea.
On that sofa lay Dred, resting with a history book on his chest and his eyes closed, seemingly taking a nap. The island had changed far too much since the arrival of those two chaotic little ones.
Every day, when the children came to bring him food, they noticed how uninhabitable the place looked. It seemed impossible to them that anyone could live in such a lonely spot, so they always brought something new to make it more livable.
One day, they showed up saying that "places with flowers were pretty," and immediately began arguing because Percy insisted that was "way too unmanly."
Another day, they decided they should plant fruit trees so they could climb them or collect their fruits; of course, they ended up arguing about which fruit was the most delicious.
And on another occasion, they arrived dragging a huge sofa that they had pulled out of their magic bag. That day, the argument revolved around whose fault it was that they'd forgotten the food while carrying the sofa.
Truly, every day they found a new reason to fight over nonsense. But for Dred, those arguments were precisely what made the two children so special. Because, even when they fought, they always laughed—and their smiles showed that they enjoyed having someone to share even their little daily battles with.
No matter what happened, ever since those two children had come to the island and filled it with noise, life, and laughter, that place—which had once been a symbol of silence and confinement—had become his favorite refuge.
For the man who had spent hundreds of years alone, those brief moments had become the happiest of his existence.
…
Elsewhere, Adrien and Dorian were reviewing files inside the base, exchanging reports while commenting on how unusually quiet everything felt lately.
Since the little ones had left, the whole neighborhood seemed calmer… far too calm. The bangs and sudden challenges that used to come from the boys as they went from house to house asking the knights for duels were no longer heard.
An absurd habit that, of course, they had learned from Arthur and Luther, who, according to them, were "teaching the art of making friends."
Adrien had tried to explain to them more than once that this was not how one made friends, and that they shouldn't take those two fools' lessons seriously.
Harry seemed to understand and accept it easily… but Percy, well, he continued following Luther and Arthur's "teachings."
He now greeted ladies with a gallant air, as if he were a little lady-killer in training.
Dorian, for his part, had offered his own advice:
"Always smile; no one will ever know when you'll stab them in the neck if you do it kindly."
To which Gema, horrified, gave him such a severe look that it was enough to forbid him from ever teaching the children anything again. From that day on, Dorian was officially banned as a tutor.
Even so, everyone knew that if, in the future, the two little ones decided to join the Knights, they would be welcomed with open arms, even if they weren't descendants of the ancient knights like most. They had a natural talent that surpassed many, and a potential that couldn't be denied.
And if they didn't have a sword of their own, the Knights would search among the treasures of the Veil for one worthy of them. Because, without a doubt, they were worth it.
Even the old man knew it. Not only because of the enormous help Sally had been as a mage, but because he saw in those children something extraordinary—a spark that even the greatest knights had never shown at their age.