Next morning, Harry could not get off his mind the image of Flora throwing
her curly hair back when she laughed at Hagrid’s hut: but this time the similarities between her and the terrible Bellatrix that got him worried weren’t there . Actually, thoughts about Flora filled up his mind again. Apprehensive, he decided to send her an owl cancelling their meeting later on.

For the time being, he needed to set a greater distance between them so as to put things in a better perspective. He was safe when away from her, even though his cheeks still kept the memory of her kisses. At least, he didn’t have to worry anymore about one of his greatest concerns: she didn’t want to see anything else about Voldemort. She wouldn’t know about the Horcruxes, which was a relief. Although she looked more and more sweet and honest, as a very powerful and intelligent witch, she was far from being harmless. He could see both qualities on how quickly she learned everything.
Besides, she had an immense power over him. What was happening? He went on loving Ginny, more and more, but he was obsessed by another woman.
Surely he’d withdraw a little from her. The need to work was a good excuse.
As for that, the Ministry didn’t lack work at all. Moreover, it had been a long time since he’d last watched Draco.

*

Flora is sad when she got Harry's owl. However, once she’d already dismissed her friends and mentors, she decided to practice something new.

Her aunt Narcissa had commented en passant that Voldemort didnot need a broom to fly at the end of his life. By observing her son hovering in the air between small skips, she devised a possibility there. She hateed the idea of flying on brooms. She’d try it. Was there some instruction in a book?

After hours of researching in the books she’d borrowed from Hogwarts without finding anything, she decided to make a fool of herself in the backyard. She looked around to see if there was anybody watching – just in case. However, she knows no one would be craning over the fence, as it was not a habit among wizards to snoop on other people's lives.

She stood under the tree. Then, she imagineed herself flying. Nothing happens. She tried to concentrate harder; thought on the lightness of her hair; emptied her mind of any thoughts. Then she imagined her body getting lighter and lighter. Firstly she focused on her neck, then on her trunk, and finally on her feet. She closed her eyes. She swung a little before trying to soar up into the air. Nothing happened.

Smiling, she thought this kind of thing could only be done without anyone looking, just as then. Determined to fly, she thought on birds and imagined herself as a bird flying high up in the sky. She closed her eyes again, and focused on the flight. She even stood on tiptoes, and…nothing.

She shaked her head. No, she wouldn’t give up so soon. If he did, why wouldn’t she? Was he better than her? Flora got mad. She did not want to admit that the nasty Tom Riddle could have got more power than her. At that time, he was repulsive to her. She had mixed feelings for her father then. Pity and anger. She was angry he had made her go through the pain he caused to so many people.

She walked stepping on dry leaves in the yard. The feeling of them under her bare feet brought lightness, and quietness back to her. She went back to her exercises. She believed she was on the right track. She had to think on things that fly. She began to list them:

“1. Butterflies; 2. Birds; 3. Owls; 4. Bats; 5. Fairies; 6. Pixies; 7. Kites; 8. Airplanes; 9...”

She could not remember of anything else that flies. Then, a green leaf from the tree falls on her shoulder.

“9. Harry Potter…”

Why was she thinking on Harry Potter again? She would never seen him flying! She knows he was a great Quidditch player, Hermione had told her that, but anyway… She was angry with herself. And then she decided: the nineth item would be Yan:

”9. Yan. 10. Brooms, 11. Wingardium Leviosa...”

That was it. She needed to figure out a spell that made her fly. She took her wand and casted a spell of levitation on a stone. It rised in the air. Flora studied the stone, the wand. She felt the energy that flowed through her veins being channeled into her wand. It almost numbed her fingertips.

That was the trick. This was how she’d fly.

Then Hannah’s calls from the gate interrupt her. Flora let go the stone, sticked the wand in her pocket, and run to her friend. Hannah had out-of-time cramps and was asking for her help. Flora drove her to the small clinic in town, in which a very attentive witch received them. While Hannah was resting, the witch quickly prepared a potion. Flora sent her husband a message asking him to tell Neville where they were. She spent the rest of the afternoon with her friend that got better soon. It had been only a mild discomfort. It’d take the baby more than three months to come yet. When Neville arrived at evening, Flora went home.

Yan, Felipe, and her got home almost at the same time. After dinner, they played wizard's chess. The loser should clean the kitchen.

Flora was oblivious of the game. She had her mind on Hannah, on the baby, on the flying stone... She got scared when her queen was shattered by the black king’s sword:

“Mom, what’s happening; do you want to checkmate my king with your piece next to him? Do you really think I’m eager to do the dishes?”

“Sorry, son. I was with my mind on Hannah. I was so worried about her this afternoon that I can’t concentrate now. Doing the dishes will do me good, mainly because I won’t use magic.”

She got up and went to the sink. She needed to get her hands wet in the cold water; to wait for the soap to form bubbles, and to see them bursting afterwards. A bubble comes loose and floats in the air for a moment. Flora remembers of her flying attempts. They seemed to have happened a thousand of years before.

An owl came through the window still open. She knew that owl. Flora's husband took the letter and said:

“It's for you. Harry says he’s coming tomorrow morning to take you to the school again.”

She replied with an emotionless "thank you", as if Felipe had said that the rubbish collection schedule had changed. He found it strange and said:

“If you want to stop with it, we’ll ask him not to come.”

“No, it’s not that. You may reply confirming I’ll be waiting for him. However, it was so shocking last time that I'm afraid of what I can find now. I decided that I won’t try to know anything else about Voldemort. I already know enough. It only pays to know about the terrible things he did not to repeat them. I can just pity him for having killed and tortured lovely people. Every day I’m more grateful to Mr. Lestrange.”

“Me too.” Felipe smiled.

“Tomorrow we should investigate a little about my paternal grandmother’s family. Harry said he kept a reminder. It's crazy, love, memories stored in bottles. One day you must come with us to see that.”