SABAISM | H. POTTER

THREE. | FLOO GONE FLOP

Remus had stayed for almost an hour, drawing them all into a tangle of laughter and nostalgia, while narrating his experiences from a time long past. The atmosphere around the cramped kitchen of The Burrow swirled with warmth as the aroma of Molly Weasley's breakfast wafted through the air, mingling with the intricate tales of youth. The golden light filtering through the window painted a soft glow on everyone's faces, illuminating the excitement in Harry's eyes. The Boy-Who-Lived hung on every word, eager to capture the essence of those who had given him a piece of his heart—his parents.

With hesitation, Remus refrained from diving deep into the delicate intricacies of his life as a werewolf or the family ties that sent probing thorns of guilt through him. Instead, he focused on the laughter and camaraderie that defined his friendship with James and Sirius. The boy before him mirrored James convincingly, from the untamed raven hair that fell into his eyes, to the resolute set of his jaw that spoke volumes of resilience—traits that whispered the legacies of his remarkable parents. And then there was Gemini; the lively girl who, though she bore some of his features, possessed a spirit so evidently reminiscent of Sirius.

As they exchanged stories, the atmosphere was light and airy, punctuated by laughter and reminiscing—though it also held an undercurrent of somber reflection that Remus couldn't shake. Still, those moments were invaluable, stitched together with shared memories and the undeniable bond that formed in the gaps of their narrative. The warmth that enveloped them was tinged with the bittersweetness of things lost and what could have been.

When Remus announced it was time to leave, a bittersweet pang filled the air. "It has been lovely having stayed to chat with you both, but I really must be on my way," he said, a hint of reluctance coloring his voice. Gemini stood and embraced him, the hug tightening around them like a spell, woven with affection and understanding. "I will be home later tonight, Daddy. I love you," she assured, her eyes shimmering with an earnestness that could crack even the hardest of hearts.

He pressed a pouch filled with glinting coins into her hand, a tangible connection to the world beyond their home—a world of magic and wonder waiting to be explored. "I love you, too," he said softly, brushing a fond hand through her hair before settling his gaze on Harry. "Harry, do not hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything. It was great seeing you again." With that, Remus departed, the spell of his presence lingering like a warm hug long after he had disappeared.

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Within moments, the atmosphere shifted as the family congregated in the living room, standing before a large fireplace that loomed like an ominous portal. The walls echoed with anticipation, and Molly Weasley wasted no time in encouraging Harry. "You first, Harry dear," she said, offering him a small flowerpot that gleamed with dusty enchantment.

Harry's puzzled expression spoke volumes, and Gemini quickly interjected, "Harry's never traveled by Floo Powder before, Mrs. Weasley." A frown flitted across Harry's face as his confusion deepened. "Floo Powder?" he echoed, his eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of apprehension. The gleam of the wizarding world was magnetizing, yet it sparkled with elements unknown, and Gemini felt a pang of sympathy for him, understanding his sense of alienation.

Before she could explain the concept of Floo travel—of how one must toss a bit of the powder into the flames and speak clearly—the sound of Percy Weasley bustling into the room shifted the focus. "Certainly, Mother," he intoned with an air of superiority, as he adjusted his spectacles. Percy's elaborate demonstration of Floo travel unfolded before them, with his voice echoing authority as he stepped into the vibrant green flames that erupted at his command.

With fresh determination, Harry approached the flowerpot, his fingers trembling with excitement and nerves as he took a pinch of powder—his brow furrowing in concentration. "D-Dia-gon Alley!" he stuttered, his voice barely breaking through the rising flames.