Wings of a Wizard (Harry Potter x Winx Club x FateWinxSaga) Fanfiction
Author: PhoenixFire71© WebNovel
Chapter 1: PROLOGUE (PLZ READ FIRST)
X - normal text
X - text where Bloom is not present
'X' - thoughts
'#$X#$' - Parseltongue
Prologue:
I died in my sleep. I'd lived a good life, despite my less-than-stellar upbringing, and my teenage years. Having an immortal Dark Lord after you because of a self-believing prophecy and abusive relatives will do that to you.
My mother and father were murdered just a few months after I turned one. Despite having hundreds of moving pictures, school stories, and old notes and diaries, it's hard to feel a connection to them. Maybe it was just me, I was emotionally jaded after all. My future headmaster made the tough call to place me with my mother's only remaining relatives since all of the family on my father's side who could've taken me in were either in prison, or dead.
Growing up at the Dursleys was a life I wouldn't wish upon anyone, well, maybe my worst enemies (then again, similar situations had created the people that would become my worst enemies). Ever since I could remember, I was yelled at and shouted at for the littlest to the biggest of things. If I was too loud, if I was too slow, if I was in the wrong room, taking too long to do a chore, ruining a chore--like Dudley's bacon, I was harshly punished. I grew up with regular beatings, starved, and looking like a pale half-skeleton, which really wasn't far from the truth.
When I was seven, Dudley started to do worse in school. I'm guessing all that fat and sugar he consumed finally clogged up the veins and arteries that carried blood to the brain because the fat lump couldn't even do multiplication. The teacher was a young, but balding lady who wore a brown wig. She was a childhood friend of my aunt, so naturally, she believed everything the Dursleys said I was and was mean to me. Eventually, I grew so angry that I snapped. Something inside me popped, and then children around me were pointing at her suddenly blue wig.
That wasn't the only accident either. Dudley trampled a whole flowerbed my aunt had just planted last week while I was weeding nearby. I feared getting caught, as my aunt would likely strike me across the face before locking me up in the cupboard, then when my uncle got back he'd belt me. When Dudley went to tattle (he loved getting weak little 'freak' into trouble) something popped within me again, only stronger this time. The flowers grew back, unbroken, tall, and proud, nearly ready to bloom. My aunt couldn't verbally abuse me for the flowers, but she could attack me since I had yet to finish the weeding.
Another incident was a year later. I was eight, and Dudley had several friends by this time, all of them as fat, mean, and piggy-faced as he was. Their favorite game was called, "Harry-hunting". I learned how to run, despite my serious case of malnutrition. Pain, was the best motivator, after all. Of course, Dudley's gang, more specifically, Piers Polkins, was more intelligent than I gave him credit for being. He was the one to direct the other boys when the hunt started, usually during recess, lunch, or right after school. Hiding in various places did me no good, as anyone who saw me would snitch--they were scared of Dudley's gang and didn't want to get hurt. As much as I wanted to call them spineless cowards, they were just kids, kids who were still learning the difference between right and wrong and didn't want to get hurt. It's hard to hold that against them.
But during this incident, they managed to corner me in an alleyway behind the school. I panicked, tripping over a trashcan. I could hear them running towards me like a thundering stampede, and I wished as hard as I could that I was somewhere else. I felt that popping in my chest, still an odd sensation--but becoming more familiar--and suddenly I wasn't staring at concrete, but the AC fans on top of the school roof. Bewildered, I climbed down with the help of the vice principal, too worried about the punishment I would face tonight to ponder my sudden ability to teleport.
Then, a month and a few days before my birthday, Dudley invited a friend for a trip to the zoo to celebrate his birthday. Oh, and he whined until he got thirty-nine presents, instead of thirty-six. Birthdays. Those were miserable affairs for me. I got nothing only my birthdays, and I long since stopped asking for them when I got a frying pan to the skull.
During our journey past the snake exhibit (after which I got an ice cream only so my uncle could save face in public), I accidentally set a snake on him. I also learned that I could speak to the snakes in a weird hissing that I understood as the Queen's English. How did I accidentally set a snake on my dear cousin? I was somewhat communicating with the snake when Piers and Dudley knocked me down so they could see the snake, which had been sleeping before. I felt the familiar popping sensation in my chest, followed by something else, and then the glass vanished, both boys fell in, the snake slid out, and then the glass reappeared.
Of course, I was heavily punished (which I knew was coming, but still braced for the pain) and locked back in my cupboard. My life up until my eleventh birthday had been hell, but then something happened that would forever change a beaten, abused, starved orphan's life.
I got a letter. A letter addressed directly to me, and where I slept, "The Cupboard Under the Stairs". Naturally, it freaked out my aunt and uncle, who seemed to know something I didn't. Despite Dudley's annoying whining and attention-seeking, my uncle refused to give him back his second room, the one where he kept all of the toys he got and broke. I was quickly moved in there, but then more letters came, ones that had my sleeping location changed, "the Smallest Bedroom". The more letters my uncle burns, tossed in the bin or buried, the more letters that arrived. Letters were wedged into cracks of the house, through window frames, and under the door, but the last straw for my uncle came when about a hundred letters exploded out from the chimney Sunday morning.
My uncle took us all out on a road trip. What was shocking to me was that when Dudley took too long to pack, he was struck over the head, something that had never happened in our lives. My uncle drove for hours, twisting and turning ever so often to "Shake 'em off", or whatever that meant. He made stops at two places before taking us out to a dock. He rowed us in a reedy fisherman's boat (that stank of rotting fish and seaweed) to a rather gloomy and ominous island. It had an old lighthouse, clearly missing the higher-level parts. The island itself was dark, with jagged rocks, very harsh and unforgiving if you fell the wrong way on them (like I did).
My uncle and aunt took the only bedroom, while Dudley was given a half-eaten moldy couch. I was left with a long, ragged cloth that likely came from a carpet or rug, furry on one side, rather hard and unbending on the other. Needless to say, I got no sleep, so I spent the time watching Dudley's wristwatch, counting down the minutes until I turned eleven. Then, as midnight hit, the doors began to bang, like a ballista striking a castle wall. More booms awoke my relatives, and Dudley's dumb statement of, "Where's the cannon?" was followed by my uncle pulling a hunting rifle out of the second package he bought, now I knew what the second stop had been for (the first was for potato chips and bananas).
The door was knocked down, and a man that was twice as tall and wide as my uncle, with an enormous black beard stepped over and into the house. He lifted the door back into place, and then in between giving me a cake, scaring my relatives, and giving Dudley a pig's tail, he told me that I was a wizard and a celebrity. Hagrid was very friendly, but also rather trusting. He told me a lot, and then some. I learned about my family, I learned that the Dursleys told me lies. I learned that they weren't killed in a car crash while high on drugs and drunk, they were murdered by the evilest man of the century.
Well, my birthday was both exciting and depressing. Of course, Hagrid wouldn't have had any idea how to break it to an abused orphan (not that I let myself be revealed as such) that my parents were murdered and that I was a celebrity because of it. Well, not only did that kill my mood, but it also left me wide awake for the rest of the night. Come morning, when I was just starting to dose off, a bloody owl of all things pecked and tapped on the window until I let it in, then started attacking Hagrid's coats for coins. Well, that annoyed me, a boy who'd just been given a link to a new world, so I fished out coins (after pulling out some rather questionable and unsavory or smelly items) and left the bird be.
Hagrid awoke a little bit after, and following a breakfast of sausages and eggs cooked over a magical fire, we were soon on our way to this magic shopping alley. Hagrid didn't quite understand subtlety, and I didn't get why he was here escorting me instead of a professor. Still, I went along with it, though internally I was concerned, especially since this school's name roughly translated to 'Pig-Warts'.
After an awkward train ride in the muggle London underground, we arrived at a row of shops. Right at the corner, where a solid wall should've been was another building, one called 'The Leaky Cauldron', looking rather old, like a 1950's building. Entering it was another odd delight, like a glimpse of the past, but with magic. Hagrid unintentionally outed me, which meant that I got my first taste of what fame was like. Overwhelming, pressing, and drowning. That's how I felt as I was swarmed with well-wishers and thankers. Thanking me for something I didn't even know that I did. Or how. Hagrid came to my rescue before introducing me to my defense professor. Honestly, if he was the leading expert in defense against the dark arts, I imagined that most of the world was sheeple at best, leaves to be blown over at worst.
We first went to Goblins, and color me curious. They weren't like in the stories, old, wrinkly, or green. They barely had any warts, and were a pale tan color. And they had glasses and dressed like bankers, not warriors. Well, apart from the ones at the doors. I really like the warning they put on it. A rhyme that threatened, very cool.
Hagrid gave them my vault key--and why did he have it, shouldn't that belong to me?--and after an inspection, we were soon led to my vault. When opened, it revealed hundreds of thousands of gold, silver, and bronze coins. If they were all melted down, I'd probably become a millionaire! Naturally, it was understandable that I was a brooding, fuming mess for most of the rest of the time I was in Diagon.
There was a bloody fortune underneath London (and that wasn't even all of it, since all that was there was in a 'Trust Vault', like a Trust Fund or an Allowance) that belonged to me, and here I was, working my bum off as a literal slave for my ungrateful relatives.
A.N.: (cough, writer's block, cough)
Still, when Dumbledore said that death was, "The Next Great Adventure", I don't think that this was what he had in mind.
It had been four weeks since I awoke from the dark void. Not just a void, but well, where souls go when they die, I guess. But I came back, and then I was suddenly in a dark place. I wanted to open my eyes to see, but I could feel something warm, wet, and tight all around me. I tried opening my eyes, with no such luck. I couldn't hear anything, I couldn't smell.
At some point, I realized that I wasn't breathing. I promptly panicked and shifted, kicking my prison. A moment later, there was a low vibrating sound, and it drew my interest. I kicked again but didn't hear the sound. I was frightened, I was going to die from a lack of air! Mentally, my traitorous brain counted down the seconds until I ran out of air. To my confusion, I was fine, even after I'd passed the five-minute mark.
I was disoriented, confused, and bewildered. Where was I? I was trapped in this world, awake, then asleep. Awake, and asleep. That became my routine. I didn't know where I was, I couldn't feel my body, nor could I move. I was just, stuck.
Then, one morning (I think? Time passes very differently here), I felt things pushing against me. Not things, I realized, but walls. I was being shoved, this way and that, something, I think, my head going first. I couldn't tell where I was going, I couldn't see, couldn't scream (though I really wanted to), although there was this really sweet smell around me. Almost like a musk. I was pushed and squeezed some more. It started, then stopped. It started again, then stopped. I noticed that there was a pattern, just before my next sense kicked in.
I could hear some faint noise. My battle-honed instincts told me that the faint vibrating I heard sounded like screaming. Something else was happening, I was getting pushed and squeezed. I was so confused, what was happening? Then, I saw light against my closed eyelids. I opened them, and realized that the walls around me were wet...and pink! The screams, the pushing walls, the sweet musk, contractions, where I was...
BLOODY HELL! I was in the birth canal! I was in the process of being birthed!
I was so mortified that I cried out aloud, sounding exactly like a baby as I emerged from the vagina. Well, scratch that one off of the bucket list I never wanted to do, this will likely haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
I struggled to move my tiny limbs, very much annoyed with my lack of motor control. Bloody hell--I know I'm saying it a lot--just yesterday I'd been an energetic, mischievous old man celebrating his hundred and twenty-first birthday! And now I'm being born again! Slowly, I could hear the screaming--which I now realized was coming from my new...mother--stop, and other voices slowly growing.
"Mother, are you ok?"
"I-I'm here. Oritel?"
"It's here, it's alright. You did it, Marion."
"I was so scared mother."
"Don't be Daphne. I'm here, I'm alright."
"Fear not, Daphne, You'll go through the same thing when you have a child."
"Father!!!"
"Oritel! Don't scare her like that."
"My King, my Queen, I'm proud to announce that you have another daughter."
Daughter. Daughter. DAUGHTER! I'm sorry, but what?!? Whose daughter? Surely they're not talking about me?
Hands exchange me, and I twisted (or tried to) to get more comfortable. "She's so powerful. Her aura is blinding. Like a supernova that has been frozen at its peak of light."
"Is she...?" I heard the woman ask, her voice sounding hoarse (likely from all the screaming she did during those contractions).
"Yes." the man's voice was excited and solemn, joyful and weary. I stared up at a man wearing an old knight's helmet (like, the armored helmets of the soldiers that lined several halls in Hogwarts) with the clearest cyan-blue eyes that I'd ever seen.
"She's the Keeper of the Dragon Flame." I could hear equal amounts of awe, pride, love, and fear in his tone. Two gasps followed that statement.
Ok, what now? Dragon Flame? I'm the keeper of a flame? Is it some all-powerful magic? Huh?
Hey, I just popped out of the womb, I had zero ideas about what was happening, whose body I somehow got into, or who these people were.
I squirmed uncomfortably as large hands shifted, and I was suddenly in much smaller arms, "Be careful Daphne, she's your new sister and your protectorate. You are her sister, but first, you are the Supreme Guardian of the Keeper."
"I know, Mother." I looked up and saw a beautiful young teenager with white flawless skin, aristocratic cheekbones, full, pale pink lips, striking cyan eyes, lovely waves of golden-blonde hair--which reminded me of Fleur's--and a soft, button nose. Her neck looked so soft and inviting, down to more flawless white skin, and then a little visible hint of breasts. I realized a second later that my mouth was drooling onto her boobs, which were as round as grapefruits, and just as big too.
"She's adorable. With such pretty blue eyes. Like yours, Father." That was a blow to my gut. All my life, well, I guess, last life, I'd been told that I had my mother's emerald eyes, full of love and fierce loyalty, but my father's handsome physique (which I did actually gain, despite my years of neglect and malnutrition).
"Seems that she got your hair, my lovely queen, instead of a blend between us, like Daphne." A man's voice commented. I was startled, extremely startled.
Daphne--who I still couldn't believe was my sister. I'd always wanted to have one, but couldn't. Because of Dumbledore's meddling, Voldemort, and his Inner Circle, I'd been doomed to be an only child, an orphan in my last life. My new sister, MY SISTER, looked like an angel, but with the curves of a supermodel. I stared calmly at her face, trying to resist the sudden exhaustion that had overtaken me.
She turned me around in her arms--I then realized that she'd been sitting next to the woman lying on a bed--and I noticed the woman on the bed. She had the same button nose, soft features, a heart-shaped face, striking golden-brown eyes, and full lips with the cupid's bow shape for the top, and a full juicy one for the bottom. She had long red waves of hair that turned slightly more curly at the ends. I couldn't see the rest of her, but judging by how developed her daughter, my new sister was, she was probably just as good-looking underneath the sheet.
Wait, why am I checking out a woman who is clearly married and just birthed me? What the heck Harry!
The woman cooed as I was handed over yet again. "Oh yes, she's perfect." I noticed my new mother looking away at someone, maybe the man with the crusader's helmet. I turned to look. Well, tried to look, but my stupid neck muscles wouldn't budge! Move baby arms! Shake head! Do something, anything! Other than cry!
"She's rather quiet for a baby," I could hear Daphne saying. "What's her name?"
I stared into my mother's eyes and felt her moving her hand against the fuzzy hairs atop my head. "Bloom."
Bloom? I...that took the wind out of my sails.
The Evans family had a history of naming their girls after flowers and their males after trees. Bloom was a type of flower, and also the term for when a flower bud opened. Bloom...I could get used to that...I think.
But not everything else (and by that, I meant my body, clothing, etiquette, and erm, anything else that was required of a female).
"Like the form Bloomix?" I heard Daphne ask in a hushed whisper as the man groaned, sounding very similar to Hermione when I pulled one of my heart-attack-inducing stunts.
Marion nodded, her adoring gaze capturing my curious one. She gently touched my hand with a finger, and I tried to grasp it. "She's got your fierceness and my curiosity. She'll be wonderous when she's older."
"Let's hope that she is less of a thrill seeker than you are. Otherwise, I might have another heart attack." Oritel said to my new mother in a joking tone, but my military training allowed me to pick up on the serious edge to his undertone.
Internally, I snorted. Fat chance of that happening. I'd been Fate's chew toy for decades. Every Halloween brought either the worst luck possible, a life-threatening event, or both. Besides, I thrill for adventure, for pushing the boundaries, for seeing how far beyond my limits I can go. It was a part of me, just as the Potter Luck is.
"She'll be fine, Oritel. Domino is protected, the Ancestral Witches are realms away, and we have the Dragon's blessing." Marion said (I still wasn't ready to replace Lily with the title of mother).
My inner child soldier wanted to snort. There was no such thing as safe--as I'd learned that the hard way--and I'd never heard of a Dragon blessing. Also, who the hell was these Ancestral Witches? Some Dark Coven? Or three Dark Ladies hell-bent on killing me because I somehow kept fire?
I paused. No. Nope, no way. There was no way that they were the Voldemort of this universe. I swear on Merlin and Morgana's relationship itself, there was no bloody way that history was repeating itself. No, no, no.
If it was, I will scream. Don't think I won't.
===
Being born a girl in royalty was very different from being a guy. Although, technically, the Potters were royalty in my last life. They were among one of the 28 elite families who'd settled in Britain centuries ago and had built up enough gold to destabilize the global muggle economy nine times over. To be fair, most of the other pureblood families had the same, more or less gold than we did.
Either way, living life as a girl wasn't all that different from being a boy, although I was only a baby. From my limited understanding of muggle child-developmental psychology, there were several growth stages for males and females, with males maturing physically faster than females, while females matured mentally faster than males. Maybe that was why Hermione was always annoyed with me, Neville, and the Weasley Twins for our childish antics and pranks. Those antics quickly stopped when the Triwizard Tournament drew that night for champions.
Either way, muggles had pointed out an early gender stereotype common with newborns. If it's a girl, then the child's bedroom should be pink, they should wear girly clothes, and be given dolls to play with. If it's a boy, then the child's bedroom should be blue, they should wear plain, patterned, or striped clothes, and be given blocks, models, and toy versions of tools and weapons to play with.
I had already noticed that stereotyping. My nursery (which really just was the corner of the King & Queen's bedroom) was decorated with pink walls and paintings of this dragon that had very similar features to the Chinese Firesnout, but minus the wings, and looked to be made up of pure fire, not a magically-resistant hide or flesh. My nappies were white, my baby blanket was blue, with 'Bloom' inscribed in the corner, and my crib had a silver mattress. The crib was made with golden-brown wood that reminded me strongly of the shade of Hermione's hair.
I was dreading the way that I would have to dress as I got older. Pureblood etiquette (which Susan had drilled into my head) wouldn't work here, as I'd been taught about the male half, not female, and I knew that there was a lot more to the female part than Susan was willing to tell. Still, there were things that would be more obvious, such as remembering to keep my legs closed when wearing skirts--I blushed when I realized that--as it would be questionable to be spread and open like that.
Bras too, oh Merlin! I'd be growing breasts in a decade or so, and then I'd have to deal with cramps...I immediately shut off this train of thought before I thought of something else that would be maturing come puberty, which I was told was a bitch to girls.
Still, I was doing my best to stay open-minded, especially since I'd be viewing life from a different perspective. One without a prophecy dangling over my head, without a dark lord, or a horde of snake-face worshippers hunting me down. A life where I wouldn't be growing up in an abused house, I wouldn't be a malnourished, frail child who dresses like a dirty street urchin and was unaware of his family's legacy and their true nature.
I took a deep breath, then mentally screamed as a pink puffy nipple was shoved in my face.
===
In many ways, being reborn as Bloom was one of the greatest gifts I'd ever been given, but also one of the greatest curses. I still had all the memories and moments of my last life. I was in the body of the opposite gender, and I was fearing being raised as a girl. Don't laugh, this is serious! I could get pregnant!
The loss of my family had been replaced with something else. Someones. And they made this new life not just bearable, but something that I started to look forward to. Every day, I awoke smiling in the protective arms of Queen Marion, King Ortiel's muscular arms wrapped around us both. I would wake up and see a perfect bedroom, so different from the master bedroom in Potter Manor. In this life, I knew that I'd gotten extremely lucky. I had rich elite parents, a king and queen, and an elder sister, who was the heir to the throne. All of them loved and doted on me, and every single one.
Breastfeeding was extremely awkward, especially since I'd seen and done many things with breasts in my past life. Although, the memory of those round breasts would likely be branded in my perverted adult mind forever. And I'd likely grow those too...ugh...bad thoughts, Har-Bloom. Need to get used to that change too.
Apart from that, my new life was very good. I was born with the silver spoon in this life, though I couldn't fucking pick it up. I really couldn't do much apart from moving my tiny arms and legs. I couldn't lift my neck, nor could I get off my damn back. Couldn't roll over, couldn't stand, couldn't walk. Curse these underdeveloped limbs and poor motor control!
I was usually too tired within a few minutes of this 'writhing' as I'd mentally called it. Within a few hours, I'd fall asleep as soon as I'd been burped. Bugger. I couldn't wait for my body to develop that involuntary expulsion reaction to stomach gas, and for my body to strengthen so that I could stay awake longer. And do more apart from coo and flail my limbs around!
Daphne was a sweet young woman and honestly was the sister I'd only dreamed of while in that damn cupboard. She was pretty (that's a lie, she was a drop-dead gorgeous), she was courteous, and kind. Honestly, she reminded me of that fictional muggle character Padme Amidala, but with a little less bite.
Oritel was different from what I was expecting, considering the only father figures I had were dead, too lost in their own past, or regularly beat me as a child. He was fair, stern, and had a prankster's side. From what I saw during a tournament (Domino's annual fencing tournament), he was very skilled with a sword, probably on the same level as the Malfoys, but far better (in my mind, because fuck-you Malfoy).
He was a generous man with his family and kingdom and did everything in his power to ensure the protection, comfort, and safety of everyone. He believed in redemption but saw no one as pawns (cough, Dumbledore, cough), and wouldn't hesitate to stop or put down someone if he believed that they threatened his life, his family, his kingdom, or his allies (which I admired and respected).
Marion was everything that I'd imagined my own mother, Lily Evans to be. She was a beautiful (again a lie, her appearance was just too incredible to be described with a few adjectives) redhead with a fiery personality. She had ambition, bravery, and more love than I'd ever experienced (except with my wives Hermione and Susan). She was able to juggle time playing and feeding me, Daphne's training (to master control of her 'Flame' and her other duties before she could take the crown), and her duties as Queen. She had several cribs around the palace, including the library (which was bigger than Salzar Slytherin's). There she would talk to me (the way mothers do to infants) while going over her research projects, which intrigued the runemaster & spell-creator in me.
The four of us were the King, Queen, and Princesses of Sparx, a kingdom on the planet Domino. I didn't know why I was surprised that magic existed elsewhere apart from Earth, but I was grateful for it. Living without magic likely would've been a nightmare for someone who lived long days in a world when women were equal to men, marriage contracts still existed, broomsticks were used as modes of flight and in a sport, potions bubbling in cauldrons, need I go on?
My life was mainly confined to the palace, where there were dozens of maids and attendants waiting on hand and foot. Oritel wasn't always around--which was understandable, as he had a kingdom to run--but Daphne and Marion always spent time with me, and I was always with one of them when the other had to run off somewhere to do something.
Several months passed, filled with feedings, and nappie changes (that I hated, and couldn't wait for the day when I wouldn't need someone else to wipe stains from my own behind; I still was getting used to the feeling of having nothing between my legs), and lullabies. Teething was a painful experience, and because my tiny body wasn't used to it (like I was) I would often cry unless I got something cold to numb it. Still, I looked forward to the day when I could eat my own food instead of wrapping my little lips around Marion's pink puffy nipple.
At three--fourish months, I could finally make other noises apart from babbling and cooing, but nothing that sounded like words yet, to my frustration. I often heard people point out the intense concentration on my face, my eyes filled with curiosity, wonder, and determination as I tried to move. I'd gotten past the rolling stage, though the inner Marauder couldn't resist pranking my sister by rolling off the bed.
I still had magic, though it felt...well, not different, but unusual. Typically, a wizard or witch has a magic core, which generates its own magic. That magic is then fed throughout the body in another system, similar to blood circulation, 'pumps' (for a lack of a better term) magic instead. That magic is then sent to one of the optical magical nerves, where it can then be released by the body, usually found in the mouth, eyes, hands, ears, nose, feet, or anywhere else that is just under the skin.
My magic had always been somewhat sentient--Hogwarts was too--but it was more muted...and more open in what it could do. My magic back then could heal, it could manipulate matter, could conjure matter, could conjure sound, could power runes & ward stones, and with the Deathly Hallows it could call upon the spirits of the dead. My magic in this life felt more...alive, more primal for lack of a better term. It seemed to grow and shape with me and was more destructive than I recalled, although that could simply be because all my magic had to learn from was my memories.
I remembered what a stuttering Professor Quirrelmort told us a month into Hogwarts, about magical affinities, elementals, the sort of thing. It seemed that I had a natural fire-based affinity, as the light came to me much harder than causing the flames in the fireplace to shoot up when I would laugh or cry.
Another thing that was different in this world from my last was these magical bonds. I've heard of master and apprentice bonds, as well as the extremely rare soul bonds, but this was something else entirely. I had a connection, a mind link, with my new parents, and my sibling. I could feel their presence, no matter where they were, or the distance between us. The closer we were, the more I could feel. I could pick up their emotions, and I'm starting to suspect that they could pick up mine.
Each 'bond' felt unique, and my connection to all three helped to ground me. Any nights where I struggled with sleep, they would send waves of calm, happiness, joy, or peace. It was honestly a cool perk, and reminded me of the lore in the muggle's film saga 'Star Wars'. There was a part of my mind that disliked the bonds, which as you know came from having a connection to a wizard so scared from death that he split his soul and renamed himself with an anagram that translated to 'Flight-From-Death'.
I also learned that there was a BLOODY GALAXY of magical planets and that this was called the Magix Dimension, with Magix at the center of the universe, and all the other planets and pocket dimensions and banned dimensions interconnected by Andros's "infinite" oceans and portals.
I wasn't the only baby princess or prince either. Other magical royalty came to visit--from other planets, if you can believe that--and had their own children. I was introduced to an adorable blonde baby girl named Stella, and a cute baby boy named Sky, children of two other royal couples from other kingdoms called Solaria and Erak-something. I felt somewhat weird, mentally, I was much older than they were, and their minds were completely underdeveloped.
Still, it was adorable watching the boy and girl babble at each other, and enthusiastically, I joined in. Occasionally, a dark-skinned baby named Aisha would join the little princess & prince tot's club, but not very long. It was usually just the redhead and the blondes, a joke if I ever heard one.
Many times we'd be put in what I liked to call 'dignified play pens', which sounded like the new generation of royals were cattle, but it was simply a large room with more toys than my cousin would've ever owned in his life. Dolls, building blocks, mini-models of trains, plushies, and anything else that a child could imagine.
Of course, we were still too young to really understand the concept of play or sharing, so Stella hogged a little blonde doll with an orange dress. Sky clutched a tiny sword to himself, and honestly, I could bet money that he was going to be in that Specialist academy I'd overheard some guy with a gold dragon staff talking about. And I found a replica of a dragon without wings. A little accidental magic and then poof! The dragon had wings and now looked like a proper Chinese Firesnout.
Well, it would've worked, if I hadn't somehow set it on fire.
But seriously, a dragon without wings is a grounded fire-breathing lizard. And a crime against nature.
===
There was far more to this new life than I ever gave it credit for. Domino was the host of some of the most incredible baths, spas, and healers I'd ever heard of, or seen (yes, I'd been present when one of Daphne's friends had her spine mended). Many of the elite and royalty from across the Magix Dimension (yeah, I don't believe it either) paid good money for just an hour in the spas.
Oh, and Domino had dragons! Not just any type of Dragon, but fucking domesticated dragons. What the fuck! Hagrid would've loved Domino.
And some of these dragons were bonded to people! My mother, father, and Daphne all had dragon companions, like in that movie, 'How to Train Your Dragon' I think. Apparently, they had bonds, which I'm guessing were similar to the bonds you'd have with a familiar, or maybe they were more connected to them than in the lengths I'm thinking of.
My parents and sister would go dragon riding, and sometimes they would take me with them when we flew into the sky. It was different than riding on the back of a Hippogriff, and it was most certainly different from riding that blind Ukrainian Ironbelly that I'd used to escape Gringotts with. It was more peaceful, and primal the way these dragons flew. Considering that I've fought many dragons, I have a natural fear and appreciation for them. A part of me hopes that when I become older, I'll bond with my own dragon, and then we'll join up with Domino's Dragon Rider militia.
Seriously, riding a dragon into battle? Count me in.
===
Being a baby, most people felt comfortable talking around them, unlike a child. This baby, however, was more mentally developed than they knew and could understand everything that was said, even if she couldn't reciprocate it (by this point, I'd gotten used to the idea of being a girl, though the rebel in me was still unhappy about it).
I learned that there was an on-and-off war going on between three evil witches (seriously, is it that hard to just call them Dark Ladies?)--said to be at the height of their power--and fairies, swordsmen, axemen, wizards, sorcerers, and other witches of various realms and kingdoms.
While swordsmen, wizards, sorcerers (Isn't that just another name for a wizard?), and witches were something that had been a part of my last life, sorcerers made me pause to scratch my head while fairies made me blink and take a step back (well, if I could anyways, since I still couldn't even stand, to my ever-lasting frustration).
The closest thing I could compare fairies to from my past life would be the Cornish Pixies that Lockheart brought or the Bowtruckles that Hagrid showed during their respective lessons. Bwtruckles were tiny winged creatures that cared for all the plant life. Cornish Pixies were little blue-winged creatures that looked like angels but had the mischievous nature of a demon.
Fairies here were nothing like that. Fairies here were beautiful and slender teenagers and women who could transform into rather form-revealing outfits with wings growing out of their backs and some kind of power. They were all rather colorful, and each outfit seemed to stick to the theme of their element. Fire, air, magma, light, lightning, moon, sun, earth, life, technology, crystal, basically all the normal elements, and then the ones that you'd never think of.
Of course, it wasn't easy pretending to be a child, but because of my underdeveloped brain, it was easy to cry, to try and reach for something, to scream until I got something.
Honestly, I was starting to like it here. My parents (I'd chosen to accept that I'd have them as additional parents, but day by day, they were replacing Lily and James in my mind's eye, as I really didn't remember them) were as attentive as they could be and gave every moment to lavish their love upon me and Daphne.
Daphne was incredible. She was beautiful, likely going to be more pretty than me when I grew up, so there wouldn't be a repeat of a Lily & Petunia feud (I hoped). When she wasn't in lessons, training, or meeting with other lords and ladies, she was spending time with me. She'd show me her magic in various lights that left me figuring out how to imitate her (I actually conjured embers wandlessly), and even her 'Enchantix' fairy form, which was very pretty, with dazzling colors of gold, greens, and yellows.
Every few days my father and mother would take Daphne and I to meetings focused on defending the realm. The 'Company of Light' was established by Oritel, similar to Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, focusing on combating the concept of battling the forces of evil and darkness. In this life, it was the "Ancestral Witches" and their 'Army of Decay' instead of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Despite the name sounding rather emo and laughable, their actions showed that there was nothing funny about them. They sounded like they were bad, worse than Voldemort ever was (I can't say the same for Delphi or Grindelwald). They were believed to be the representation of all things evil in the Magix universe. Well, at least they weren't dark ladies obsessed with a prophecy, although I was a little concerned about the use of covens.
Covens had long since died out in my previous life. They were the combination of three witches, three wizards, or a general mix of gender. They bound themselves to each other in an ancient blood pact that had also fallen out of favor. It made magical share and take in each other's blood, portions of their magic, and genetics. It also altered their external look, so if they carried a specific affinity in their bloodline, it would show.
There were several numbers that carried significant magical influence. Three, four, seven, and thirteen to be precise. Each magical number was specialized for different things, and each had its own effects.
Thirteen was the easiest to explain. It was the most powerful, but had the highest risk of unprecedented side effects, along with an unhealthy dose of bad luck and negative karma. It is ill-advised to utilize this number for anything involving runes, soul, or blood magic, or with certain enchantments of metals, which can and have been unknowingly cursed while enchanting. The curses in question could be extremely dangerous or just very unlucky (like a random skin color change each time you picked up a sword).
Case in point, a runes project that Tonks worked on back in her Hogwarts days backfired, causing an explosion. She'd been trying to use the power of thirteen to enhance a rune ring, but the power was too much for the object's metals and it detonated, thankfully without severe casualties. Following her recovery, the only thing that was left as a reminder of that encounter was her very clumsy behavior, thankfully not life-threatening.
Seven is an odd number. It is the second most powerful, but due to its extremely high increase of a person's good karma and luck, the chances of double the success are not just likely, but imminent. They can also enhance and protect the intent of the spell or active magic cast by a magical. It was why Voldemort had been nigh-bloody unkillable for decades, that powerful number of seven enhanced and protected the damage he'd done to himself when he'd split his soul. It was why he'd kept all his power & sanity (which should have split with his soul), although the latter started to vanish when he restored his body using the power of three, which countered most of the enhancements of the power of seven.
Four was the only even number. This was only used in the base of magic. Four provided a strong foundation, a supportive base, or a core that the rest of the magic would latch on to. It was commonly used in things like keys for portals, runes, arithmancy, and a few other secrets that I learned from Dumbledore's notes and the Founder's Journals. Its influence was limited, and so many utilized it when working on large-scale runic projects. Curse breakers memorized the rune sequence with four, as the combination could open or break into tombs with ease (once the nastier and external wards were broken down).
Three was the weirdest of the numbers. It wasn't the weakest number, but it wasn't the strongest either. It did provide a boost of power but messed with minds. It always seemed to connect and enhance the supernatural, of which most witches and wizards only held a minuscule trace in their bloodlines. If it was used along with another magical number, it would cancel positive effects while amplifying the negative or unexpected. The number not only encourages growth but also encourages destruction, almost foretelling the rise and fall of dark lords, who gain power only to be slain for the crimes they commit with it.
The three Peverell brothers, the originals, were not blood-born, despite what the Beetle Bard's tale says. They were all geniuses in their own right and very accomplished wizards at that. Antioch Black, Cadmus Gaunt, and Ignotus Peverell joined together. While the Beetle & Bard's tales told of the three brothers meeting death, the reality was far different. The three wizards formed a coven (did you think that only witches could?) together, performing the necessary rituals and magics. The power enhanced the qualities of their bloodlines and drove them to madness.
During that period of madness, they made a pact with death via another forgotten and forbidden ritual. When they died, their powers and memories would be turned into three objects, which could them make someone who united all three immortal. Their sanity never recovered, and though they eventually separated, the brothers died one by one, as each became a dark lord in their own right.
Internally, I suppressed a shiver, as the feeling of being watched filled my bones. Years of being stared at and situational awareness training helped me, especially when we learned that Voldemort was able to scry and observe us through divining orbs in that present moment. The feeling of being watched happened on and off, but I didn't know what to make of it, so I ignored it for now. It's not like I could do anything in my current state, and holding onto Moody's healthy sense of paranoia was only going to give this tiny baby body a heart attack (no baby formula existed here, so there were no chubby babies).
This Company of Light consisted of young fairies, swordsmen, and a few witches and wizards. I was astonished to learn that my kind had evolved. They no longer needed a foci to direct their magic, like a wand, stave, staff, or enchanted tool or weapon. Although, there was some prejudice against the few witches present (I suspected that there was bias against them for what these Ancestral Witches had done), most of them formed covens & kept to themselves.
The swordsmen seemed to just wear fancy uniforms, likely just princes and other young men of the realms. Their weapons were all shiny and glowy, like Star Wars, but in the form and shape of actual Medieval weaponry. Swords, double-blades, katanas, sabers, mini-laser guns, etc. The school's military and physical trainer is a muscular man named Codatorta, who looks like the sergeant in one of those muggle films.
I learned that the deputy headmistress of Alfea--a three-year school for fairies--was a woman named Faragonda Dowling (who apparently was also my godmother from a ritual that they did with blood while I was asleep?), the deputy headmaster of Specialist's Red Academy--a four-year military-esk school that trained young men, regardless of background to become noble, self-sacrificing warriors--was a man named Saladin, and another woman named Griffin (a rival of Faragonda) was a professor at Cloud Tower--the school for the biggest, worst witches of all.
Apparently, wizards were loners here, mainly keeping to themselves, researching, learning, and hoarding new spells. Only a few wizards were present at many of the public events my family hosted or went to, including the one guy named Valtor, who gave me a bad vibe. Not Voldemort or Bellatrix, but more like Pettigrew...although that could simply be his magical affinity.
I shook my head (I was soooo happy to master one form of expression at least), there were more parallels between this life and the last. Alarmingly so. Now, all there needed was a prophecy, an attack on Halloween, and a scar on my forehead while these witches became wraiths, and my life would be identical.
"Bloom, are you hungry?" Unlike my early childhood years, in this time, I displayed my intelligence at every opportunity.
I nodded and eagerly reached out my arms (feels so good to use them for something at last). Marion picked me up, undoing one of the lapels on her nightgown, bringing my face to her tender breast. I began to suckle, and in another moment warm milk started to pool into my mouth. As soon as I turn ten, I will be using Occlumency to isolate all the memories I had of seeing her bare breasts and other embarrassing moments.
After a quick feeding and sucking of my mother's breasts, I was dressed, burped, and carried out, turning my neck to look around. The people of Domino, primarily the Kingdom of Sparx, were always excited to see us. I guess it's cause our family has a history of being associated with this mystical fire dragon and they treat their subjects well. As my mother walked down the street carrying me, accompanied by several guards on foot, dozens of citizens lined up to greet us, offer things, and give compliments and praises.
It's funny. I'd heard of royalty, of knights, princesses, princes, kings, and queens, but I'd always alluded that to fantasy. Then I learned that magic was real, even if the hierarchies were Victorian instead of Monarchies. And now I was in a world where I was supposed to grow up as a princess. Half of me hated it, and the other half had a wait & see mentality (though I still planned to knock anyone's head sideways if they even so much as suggested that I was a helpless damsel in distress).
===
My first birthday turned out as one of the biggest celebrations I'd ever seen or been to, and that was including every single ICW or Ministry Ball, or important pureblood function that Hermione and Susan had strong-armed me into attending since the Triwizard Yule Ball.
Hundreds of people came from around the various realms (still felt weird to think that there was life and magic on other planets apart from Earth) for this occasion. Apparently, the seas of Andros (another magical planet) connected every single magical planet, realm, and kingdom together in the Magix Dimension, which was why hundreds of flying ships could be seen from across the water. Royal delegations, headmasters, professors, guards, and families came from all over Magix. It was honestly a bit overwhelming, although I couldn't tell if that was just my baby brain acting up, or if it was a remnant of Harry Potter's shyness coming through.
Planets such as Zenith (a planet that heavily relied on technology), Oppositus (a planet where everything was both the same and opposite, thinking about it for too long gave you a headache), Andos (which had a duel monarchy, one group of royals coming from the land, the other family from the seas; both were present today), Callisto (and their ability to give birth to twins every single time), Serenia (known for terrible & eternal storms), and Liphea (and their intent to live high amongst the trees.
There were visitors from other schools, including Oscuria College for Magicians and Sorcerors, Alphea College for Fairies & Nymphs (created generations of talented, powerful fairies); Red Fountain Boarding School for Swordsmen, Magicians, and Specialists (created generations of 'Specialists' and the occasional magical Wizard); Magic School for Forgers, Smithers, and Armorers (created generations of talented blacksmiths); and Malacoy Paladin Academy for Warriors, Knights, and Crusaders (created generations of Paladins & Wizards).
After everyone (people were still arriving) arrived, the ballroom along with beverage and snack tables was opened. The ballroom was round, with arches over the eight main entrances. The floor was gold with an imploding flower pattern. There were steps to a slightly elevated area along the outer ring, where six of the doors were set, three on each side. Above those six doors were balconies, gold railings with Gryffindor red drapings, and black curtains with gold embroidery and flower patterns.
The two other doors were in between the elevated areas. One opened to a set of Gryffindor-red steps rising higher into the palace. The other opened to descending steps to take the guests to the courtyard outside. A massive glowing quartz chandelier hung above everyone's heads, the mystical light casting back all shadows. Tables were set on the elevated levels, the doors were left open. In between the six doors were tables with drinks and light snacks of all kinds. Crackers, cheeses, and fruits. Wines, juices, and milk. In front of one door, several tables had been cleared to make way for a stage, where a band was playing music, their current song being 'Dragon Hearted (captainsparklez)'.
Marion bounced me in her lap as she chatted with other ladies of the high and middle class, some of them also carrying their (adorable baby) heirs in their laps. My father met with various delegates from the other kingdoms, schoolmasters, and magicians. My sister met with several of her friends at another table, likely from Domino and Alfea College.
I was eventually passed to Daphne so that our parents could open the ball dance. Her friends cooed and awed over me, gently rubbing the baby skin of my face and the wild red hair that I was already growing. I squirmed, rather uncomfortable with all the hands rubbing my face and lightly squeezing or pinching my thighs, although I did smile 'cutely' and giggle anytime someone found a tickle spot, which seemed to be all over me (Merlin!).
I eventually got picked up and spun around by my father, and I couldn't help but giggle, something about his face, the action, or just my underdeveloped brain found the whole thing funny.
Following the afternoon wall was dinner, and it was probably the largest dinner I'd ever seen. The banquet hall was similar in design to the ballroom, actually, most of the palace had similar designs. There were again balconies overlooking the dining hall, although those had guards posted.
I was placed in a high chair in the banquet hall. My father sat at the head of the table, My mother to his left, and me between mother and Daphne. The foods were things that I both did and didn't recognize. Strangely colored meats of various colors, vegetables of various colors, sizes, and shapes. Thankfully, I got milk in a bottle, which I sucked as I took everything in. Other infants, a few children. Stern-faced guards at every entrance, others likely around or outside.
Kings and Queens sat together, indulging in gossip and politics. Princesses were gossiping, talking about betrothal contacts (which I was annoyed still existed), dresses, and other handsome young princes and specialists. Further down the table, wizards and witches sat mostly with their fellows, chatting with or speaking to the headmasters, mistresses, and professors of the schools present.
Following the banquette came a seventeen-layer chocolate cake with sky blue icing, clouds, and the Dragon Flame on the sides, chasing its own tail. At the top was an edible, smaller cake that was carved and iced to look like Sparx. Bloody hell, royalty in this life doesn't do anything by half. I was appreciative of the grand gesture but felt that this was unnecessary. Then again, if it was a small cake 96% of the guests would be missing out on a slice of the main dessert.
After a loud chorus of singing, the cake was cut, and everyone but the birthday girl got a slice (I couldn't wait until I had teeth). There was a literal mountain of gifts in one of the guest rooms, and I was very happy overall. I saw a lot of faces and made sure to commit the royalty, their children, and any people of important status to memory.
All in all, I was very tired that night and fell asleep without hearing my mother's lullaby.
===
"Princess Daphne."
"Sorceror Supreme." Daphne greeted Valtor, who was dressed in blue robes with silver. "What brings you to my chambers?" she asked, giving him a warning glare if he even thought about making advances as he had on many others.
She knew of several maids who would fight for the right to clean his room, and 'fix his bed'. Those girls had often been seen leaving his quarters early in the morning with noticeable limps, messy appearances, love bites, satisfied smiles, and had the 'glow' about them. The Supreme Guardian couldn't disagree, he was handsome, magically powerful, and highly intelligent, with a 'bad-boy aura'.
"I would not dare make advances without the permission of your father, your highness. That was not my intention, nor is it appropriate considering the circumstances." Valtor shook his head, the youthful aura she'd seen him carry in the court looked all but absent.
He had shadows under his eyes, parts of his hair tangled with split ends. He looked exhausted, as though he hadn't slept in days. "I do not know how long we have, so I must give you a warning, while I still can."
Daphne froze. "Is the attack coming?" Griffin had been their spy among a group of witches who worked for the Ancestral Witches for several years. She knew that the Ancestresses were due to attack within the coming week. Soldiers from the other kingdoms and graduated warriors from schools in different realms had been smuggled into Domino, in preparation for the large battle coming. The Company of Light knew that they also had a mole, but not who. Griffin likely knew, but for the sake of her position, could not tell.
Valtor looked like he was struggling with himself. "N-yes." he gasped, rubbing his throat.
"When?" she asked, grabbing onto his robe, suddenly afraid.
"That, I do not know." he shook his head. "It will be within a few days. But the matter at hand is more dangerous than you believe."
He too knew the attack was coming, despite them only informing the royalty of the Company of Light. Valtor might be the Sorcerer Supreme of Magix, but his status did not permit him to be at that meeting. Unless someone else told him, she couldn't understand how he knew of the incoming attack. Daphne frowned. "How do you know of the attack?"
Valtor huffed, looking at her like she was stupid for not connecting the dots. "The Ancestral Witches answer to a higher power," he spoke cryptically, his tone filled with urgency. "One I cannot speak of, one who helped the witches create me."
Daphne stilled. The Company of Light had lost three members, one who had died, and two who had withdrawn after their kingdoms fell under siege. All of their whereabouts have been known to only a portion of the Company of Light. Distrust had sewn itself among the members with each loss.
Loss that could've been prevented, if only they're spotted the real monster that was among them all along.
"It's you." Daphne breathed, shock, fear, and anger warring in her breast. "You're the spy," she said slowly, moving carefully to put more space between her and him. Was he here to assassinate her?
Valtor tilted his head, speaking apologetically. "I am. They found a piece of the Dragon Flame years before they began their war against the Magix Dimension. The spark of the Great Dragon's power was too small for their purposes. So instead, it was taken, molded, and reshaped into the man you see before you with more than a bit of their darkness inside of me."
"Why are you here then?" she snarled, her irises flaring orange, fire springing to her palms as she gathered her magic. She was not unaware of his power, and with his origins explained, she was even more wary of an attack. "Why come to tell me this? To gloat about your eventual victory?"
Valtor raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender. "I was stationed here, not to prepare for the Witches' eventual invasion of Domino, but for an entirely different reason."
She froze. There could only be one other reason why they would come. "The Birth of the Keeper of the Dragon Flame."
He nodded, his gaze was apologetic and solemn. "The Ancestresses' master knew that the next Keeper of the Dragon Flame would be born in this century, so he had the original witches prepare a dimension-wide siege, perfectly timed for the day that your sister would be born."
Daphne stepped back, a hand rising to her chest, nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood. Her mind reeled at the fact that the evil Ancestral Witches had a master--who was probably more evil and dark than them. Her body and voice trembled as she spoke. "They want Bloom."
He nodded, his expression blank, his stance tensed. "You finished your training to become the Supreme Guardian of the Keeper two years ago, yes?"
The Guardians of the Dragon were the first-born heirs of the throne, as well as any other children of the royal bloodline that were born that weren't the Keeper of the Dragon Flame. Their mission was to protect the Keeper at all costs, even if it means committing the ultimate sacrifice. To do this, they were allowed to inherit unique magical spells of their realm--similar to the magical secrets within schools and other realms--that they would use in the defense of the keeper.
Seeing the princess nod, he continued, "He wants the Dragon Flame. Not for its power, but to use it to unlock a greater power."
Daphne spun away, before turning back again, a new fire in her eyes. "Who is he?"
No one threatens her little sister. And it was also her duty to protect the Bearer of the Dragon, one that hadn't been born for over a hundred years. Other members of the royal family had a connection to the Great Dragon's power, but it only manifested entirely in a Keeper.
Valtor gave her another look, which made her irritated. "Who has been the polar opposite of the Great Dragon?" he asked rhetorically. "The shadowed embodiment of death to the Dragon Flame's life?"
Her eyes widened, the orange glow of her eyes vanishing as new fear filled them. He was supposed to be a myth, a monster that you tell your children about so that they don't stay outside at night and go to sleep. "Dar-"
Valtor's hand covered her mouth tightly. "Don't say his name." he hissed in a low tone, sounding angry. "He is always listening. He knows."
Daphne removed his hand from her mouth. "Don't touch me." she snarled back, furious that he had put his hands on her without her permission.
They both realized how close they were standing and moved back a little from each other. "He isn't interested in conquering the Magix Dimension. That, and my mothers' actions over the past few years have been a long-term diversion." Valtor explained.
"To steal Bloom for her powers?" she clarified, giving him the stink-eye.
He nodded, his stance relaxing. "The Ancestresses will be the ones to take her and kill anyone in their way. I will be expected to play my part as a saboteur during the attack as well."
Daphne looked angry again. "I should bring you to trial. For acting as an agent of chaos. A willing puppet. An imbecile. A rotting maggot. A coward." she spat.
Valtor let the insults move by, although the last one made him glare, his eyes brighter, glowing with anger and power. "It wouldn't matter. I came here to give you a chance."
"I'd believe that, but you're known for being selfish." she shot back, embers falling from her palms.
"I do not have a choice." he hissed, his eyes glowing slightly. "When the Witches created me, they left several fail safes in my genetics if I was to ever rebel. I cannot, I do not have a choice. They are my mistresses, they pull my strings, just as their strings are pulled by an even darker master. The being you see before you are the one they want everyone else to see, on the price of pain beyond existing."
Daphne struggled to not feel pity. She wanted to be angry. Here was the man who'd put all the realms in danger. She knew he was powerful, knew that he was dangerous, knew that he was a womanizer, and knew that he was selfish. The fact that he'd been around her little sister for so long, an agent of the Ancestral Witches, made her want to roast him alive.
But, if he was truly created to be their slave, then how could he be anything else? Know anything other than the life of obedience? And yet, here he was, defying his masters. He was risking his entire existence just to warn her of the real threat, and the method that would be used to carry it out. That action wasn't selfish. No, that was selfless.
It warmed her heart a little, though she could never trust him again.
"I apologize," she said formally. "I was out of line."
Valtor shook his head, although he did look like he was itching to fight something now. "You couldn't have known. I respect your father and mother and see them as friends. I cannot warn them, not without risking Him changing his plan."
He shot her another look. "With Him, always expect there to be more than there actually is," he warned cryptically.
She nodded slowly, although he could see that she didn't quite understand yet. "Thank you, Valtor," Daphne said instead.
"Just ensure that the Dragon Flame doesn't fall into their hands. Otherwise, the Magix Dimension will be dark forever." The man glanced at her before making his way out of her chambers.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
PhoenixFire71
PhoenixFire71 Author's Note: How did I get into writing a Winx Club fanfic of all things? Weeeeeell, I might've stumbled across the complete collection of winx club comics on an anime comic site. I found myself reading some and wondered how much better the Winx Club episodes could've been if some of these were used in place of the episodes in the series.
So I'm going to shoot my shot at this rewrite. Don't know how many seasons I'll cover (lost interest in the show after season 6), but I would like to see Icy save her homeworld, so I may pull some stuff from season nine as a sort of epilogue. And maybe some stuff from the reboot that's coming out in 2025.
I feel as though I should mention; this is a Harry Potter OC in a canon character's body (Bloom). This will make references to Harry Potter, but it will not follow the Harry Potter timeline, but rather, the Winx Club timeline.
The general plot will be the same as you'd expect from the 4Kids and RAi Winx Club episodes, but I retain the right to move episodes or events, or introductions of characters around from when they canonically appear. I will also be adding in other universes where it feels right and will add a bunch of OC characters similar to other existing or fan-interpreted characters we know and love.
My main intent with this fic is to expand upon the universe that is Winx Club with all sorts of magical lore, while building up character development and making sure that certain pairings get the justice their canon episodes did not give.
Obviously, I don't own any of this, Igino Straffi, Netflix, and JKR do.
Updates will be random (we all have our own lives, plz don't hate). If you want to read the next part sooner, I release prototype versions in quartets on Wattpad, which are edited and combined for Ao3, and then are cross-posted onto here. My Ao3 account is PhoenixSlayerx1217
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