The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

The Wizengamot chamber had been silent for hours, yet Amelia Bones could still hear the echoes of indecision bouncing off the walls of her mind.

Another dead end.

She had hoped—foolishly, perhaps—that there would be clarity this time. A consensus. But the room had dissolved into the usual chorus of half-measures, hesitation, and politics. And Dumbledore, usually the quiet weight that tilted the scales, had remained unusually silent. Watching with unreadable eyes.

So she left.

And now, she stood outside a quiet Ministry safehouse nestled deep in the countryside. A rolling stretch of hills, wild hedgerows, and enchantments strong enough to choke a Dementor.

Two Hit Wizards flanked the door. They stiffened slightly as she approached, but made no move to challenge her.

"Director Bones," one of them greeted. "You're expected."

She nodded once. "Open it."

The wards parted with a low hum. The door creaked open to reveal a small, modest interior—clean, well-kept, but sparse. A temporary residence. No personal touches beyond the books.

And in the far corner, seated on the floor by the window with a book in his lap, sat Caelum Sanguine.

His posture was relaxed, but his eyes met hers immediately. Alert. Observing. Too sharp for a child that age. Too still.

He didn't stand.

"Caelum," she said calmly. "May I come in?"

A quiet nod.

She stepped inside. The door closed behind her, muffling the world.

"Would you like to go outside?" she asked after a pause.

Another flicker of thought passed over his face. Then another nod.

Together, they stepped out onto the stone path that led from the house to a gentle trail winding through the countryside. The air was cool, the skies touched by the orange and violet hues of the setting sun. Ward lines shimmered faintly at the edges of the field—protective, ever-watchful.

They walked in silence for a while.

Birdsong. Wind through grass. No footsteps but their own.

"They couldn't decide," Caelum said eventually, his voice quiet.

Amelia glanced sideways at him. "No. They couldn't."

"I heard some of it."

She raised an eyebrow. "You shouldn't have."

"I always do."

There was no pride in the statement. Just truth.

"They're afraid," he added. "Not because I'm dangerous now. But because I might be."

She didn't respond immediately.

"They see someone powerful," he continued. "Someone they can't control. And no one knows where I came from."

They reached a curve in the path where a wooden bench sat overlooking a wide lavender field, glowing faintly in the dusk. Amelia sat, smoothing her robes. Caelum stood, arms crossed loosely, eyes on the horizon.

"What do you want, Caelum?" she asked.

He looked down at her, startled for just a second. No one had asked him that. Not really.

"To learn," he said finally. "To be more."

A pause.

"And to be left alone while I do it."

She smiled faintly.

"You don't want to be part of the world?"

He shrugged. "I never was."

Amelia studied him. Not just the words—but the restraint. The effort it took to say them without emotion.

Her mind, unbidden, flicked to her niece. Susan. Left orphaned when Death Eaters came for the Bones family during the Wizarding War, which had ended only a few years ago.

They were targeted because of their name—because they stood for something. Nearly the entire family had been wiped out. Susan had lost her parents… but at least she had her aunt.

This boy… who did he have?

Left alone. Not just by chance. But by design.

She stood again, brushing imaginary dust from her cloak.

"Caelum."

He looked up at her.

"Would you like to stay with me?"

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument she'd heard in the Wizengamot. His eyes didn't light up. He didn't flinch. He just looked at her—studying, dissecting, waiting for the part where it turned into another form of containment.

"Why?" he asked flatly.

"Because I believe you deserve the chance to choose who you become," she said, voice steady. "Not be shaped by fear. And because I'd rather offer you my roof than see the Ministry build you a cage."

He said nothing for a long time.

…

"Okay."

And that was that.

They stood together in the amber hue of early evening, the last rays of sunlight stretching across the hills like golden silk.

Amelia turned toward the horizon, arms loosely crossed, eyes squinting slightly.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said softly. "The sunset."

There was a beat of silence. Then Caelum, voice quiet but unmistakably dry, answered:

"I hate the sun."

Amelia blinked, caught off guard—until she saw the faintest tug of a smile forming on the boy's pale face. Not mocking, not bitter. Just… there.

It was the first real smile she'd seen from him.

Amelia let out a startled laugh—quiet but warm, and threaded with more relief than she'd care to admit.

"Well," she chuckled, shaking her head, "let's get inside then, Mister Nightshade. I also brought dinner."

Caelum nodded.

And for once, he didn't feel like he was being escorted somewhere under guard.

He simply walked beside her.