𝐖𝐀𝐁𝐈 - 𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈. 𝘩𝘱

ɪɪɪ. ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴛᴇ

As the auroral glow of dawn crept over the horizon, Ophelia and Harry emerged from their slumber, their minds afire with determination and purpose. The prospect of curing their ailing grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, galvanized them into action, and they hastily prepared for their journey to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

"I've been studying the ancient spells and potions required for the cure," Ophelia said, her red hair ablaze in the morning light. "I think I've found the key to unlocking the healing process."

Harry's eyes shone with hope and excitement. "That's amazing, Ophelia! I knew you could do it. But are you sure you're ready for this? It's a complex and delicate procedure."

Ophelia's smile was radiant, her confidence unwavering. "I was born for this, Harry. I can feel it in my bones. And with your help, I know we can cure Grandfather Fleamont and Grandmother Euphemia."

As they walked to the hospital, Ophelia's red hair seemed to glow with an inner light, as if reflecting her passion and determination. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for his cousin's talent and conviction.

Together, they entered the hospital, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, their hearts filled with hope and their minds focused on the task of healing their beloved grandparents.

As they approached the hospital room, Ophelia's resolve was palpable, her determination to heal her grandparents evident in every step. Harry's query, posed through their mental link, was met with a confident response: "With the healing incantation and my blood, Harold."

The errant use of his name sparked a brief, amused rejoinder from Harry, "My name is Harry! Just Harry! Not Harold!" Ophelia's giggles and Remus's gentle chuckle served as a poignant reminder of the trio's camaraderie.

Upon entering the room, Ophelia's actions were swift and purposeful. With a deep breath, she nicked her palm, allowing a trickle of blood to flow. This crimson elixir was then fed to her grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, who lay motionless, their lives suspended in a state of mystical stasis.

As the blood took effect, Ophelia began to sing an enchanting melody, her voice weaving a tapestry of sound that resonated deep within the recesses of their minds. The lyrics, an ancient incantation passed down through generations of healers, held the power to awaken the dormant spark within their souls.

"ʄƖơῳɛཞ ɠƖɛąɱ ąŋɖ ɠƖơῳ Ɩɛɬ ყơųཞ ℘ơῳɛཞ ʂɧıŋɛ ɱąƙɛ ɬɧɛ ƈƖơƈƙ ཞɛ۷ɛཞʂɛ ცཞıŋɠ ცąƈƙ ῳɧąɬ ơŋƈɛ ῳąʂ ɱıŋɛ"

As the final notes of the incantation faded, a warm, golden light enveloped the room, imbuing the air with an almost palpable sense of serenity. Fleamont and Euphemia's eyes fluttered open, their gazes locking onto Ophelia, Harry, and Remus with a mixture of wonder and trepidation.

The subsequent explanation of their prolonged slumber and the events that had transpired during their absence was met with a kaleidoscope of emotions, ranging from incredulity to profound sadness. Euphemia's tears, shed for the loss of her daughter-in-law and son, were a poignant testament to the depth of her love.

As the visit drew to a close, Remus, ever the guardian, ensured Ophelia's safety before taking his leave, the full moon's call beckoning him to his lupine transformation. Regulus, who had joined the group, stood watch, his presence a reassuring constant in the face of uncertainty.

In the aftermath of this momentous reunion, the Pendragon Castle, once a symbol of solitude, now resonated with the promise of a brighter future, one forged in the crucible of love, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bonds of family.